An Illicit Temptation by Jeannie Lin

titled upward in a sign of
stubbornness and pride. “This is not only for me.”
    Kwan-Li understood sacrifice. He also knew what it was to lose
one’s sense of self to duty. The thought of An-Ming being placed in the khagan’s
court suddenly pained him. He had desired her from the start—perhaps the way a
man coveted beautiful things he had no chance of possessing—but he admired her
now. He was in awe of her.
    It wasn’t that he was afraid she would lose herself, he
realized. It was that he didn’t want to give her up.
    They returned to the horses and he untacked the animals to set
them to graze. When he returned to An-Ming, he was surprised to see she had
started the cooking fire without his assistance. She started to pour herself
some tea, but he took over the task.
    “You don’t have to serve me,” she protested as he handed her
the cup.
    Wordlessly he poured another cup for himself. For a moment,
they sat facing the valley, shoulder to shoulder without touching. He drank. She
drank.
    “Do you think that everything—” He cast her a sidelong glance.
“That our night together was me serving you?”
    She almost spit out the tea.
    He hid a smile as she sputtered. She deserved some punishment
for tormenting him. For the long nights he slept on the cold ground while she
lay hidden away, so temptingly close.
    She looked around in desperation as she recovered. “So how good
are you with that?”
    He followed her gaze to the saddle packs and extracted his bow.
“Better than any of your Han archers.”
    She raised a questioning eyebrow. “Teach me then.”
    He laughed.
    “Don’t Khitan women know how to ride and shoot?” she asked.
    “Some, but…”
    An-Ming set her teacup aside and held out her hand for the bow.
“Teach me.”
    “You are not strong enough to bend this one.”
    “Come now. I’m not as soft as you think.”
    Indeed she wasn’t, but she was soft in all the right places.
Gamely he handed the bow over. It was fashioned from wood and sheep’s horn and
designed to be fired from horseback.
    He stood when she stood, taking a moment to position her with
his hands on her shoulders.
    “You’re taking liberties now that I’m no longer royalty,” she
accused, shrugging out of his grasp.
    “You asked for the lesson, my false princess.”
    She made a face at him that he doubted he’d ever see on a
princess. As he predicted, An-Ming was unable to make any progress pulling at
the drawstring. She returned the bow after a few attempts.
    “Can you hit that tree over there?” she challenged.
    There was a poplar tree a good distance away. This sort of game
was commonplace to any boy growing up on the steppe. Suddenly he found himself
in the mood for bravado. He stood laconically and aligned himself with the
target.
    “The first branch on the left,” she identified.
    Kwan-Li nocked an arrow against the drawstring and took his
time sighting the target. “If I hit it, you spend the night with me.”
    An-Ming made a choking sound as he released. The arrow flew
true, but continued past the tree to land in the grass beyond.
    “You missed,” she said after exactly three heartbeats, her
voice faint.
    “I didn’t.”
    She gave him a doubtful look. He returned it with some
arrogance. Together, they walked toward the tree with purpose. The bark on the
underside of the branch had been grazed away. An-Ming touched her fingertips
lightly to the pale telltale mark before turning on him.
    “I never agreed on the terms,” she protested.
    “Another target then?” he suggested, enjoying himself more than
he had in years. His gaze moved up to a dark shadow in the sky. “I can hit that
eagle, if you wish.”
    He started to take aim without any true intention behind it.
An-Ming grabbed his arm with a look of exasperation. “Scoundrel.”
    She turned on her heel and strode away, leaving him to admire
the sway of her hips. The wager remained enticingly unresolved. He looked back
up to the skies, tracking the