The interior of the chieftain’s tent was warm, the air thick with the scent of leather, wool, and the faint sharpness of burning herbs. Ashekan Si ducked through the entrance flap and straightened, her braided hair catching the firelight.

  "Ama!" she called out lovingly, crossing the room in swift strides to embrace the woman seated by the brazier.

  Her mother, delicate in appearance but with eyes sharp as a hawk’s, smiled and ran her fingers affectionately over her daughter’s cheek. "My little cub has returned."

  Her father, Ashekan Temur, laughed from his seat by the low table. "Little? She could break a man’s ribs with a single blow."

  Ashekan Si grinned, dropping to sit cross-legged before them. "I would only break them if necessary."

  Ashekan Temur's face, weathered and strong, turned serious. He set down his drinking horn and leaned forward, folding his hands. "Si’er, there’s something your Ama and I would like to discuss with you."

  Ashekan Si straightened, sensing the weight behind his words. She erased the sheepish smile off of her face and nodded sternly.

  “You don’t need to be so uptight.” Her mother rubbed the side of Ashekan Si’s arms.

  Ashekan Temur’s gaze met his wife’s and then he cleared his throat.

  “It’s nothing serious–I mean, it’s not that serious–I mean–” He stuttered. Ashekan Ruolan shot a glance at her husband, warning him with her eyes to speak properly.

  “How about you do it.” Ashekan Temur sighed.

  Ashekan Ruolan took in a deep breath, annoyed at how her husband, who could be so decisive and courageous on the battlefield—and in fact, in almost every aspect—could not even speak properly at this moment.

  She reached for her daughter's hand. "Si’er, the Tang court has sent word. They’re proposing a marriage alliance."

  There was a pause. The fire crackled in the brazier, the only sound filling the tent.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Ashekan Si’s brows lifted slightly, her gaze darting between her mother and father. “A marriage alliance?”

  Ashekan Temur leaned forward again. “It’s not a demand. Not yet. But they’re hinting. And I—” he ran a hand through his thick beard, “—I think it might be worth considering.”

  “For peace?” Si’s voice was calm, but edged with steel.

  “For caution,” Ashekan Temur replied. “The Tang are powerful. They see us as a threat. A marriage could make them think twice before marching north.”

  Si looked down at the rug beneath her, fingers curling around her knees.

  “We would never force you,” Ashekan Ruolan said gently. “You are our only daughter. No man has ever dared to try and take you—you ride harder, fight better, and speak more wisely than most of them.”

  Ashekan Temur shifted his weight, reaching for his silver cup of tea instead of wine this time. “Si’er, your Ama and I have been talking.”

  Ashekan Si raised an eyebrow. “That you both think I should agree to this?”

  Her mother let out a soft chuckle followed by a short sigh. “No, silly. We will never decide about your life on your behalf.”

  Ashekan Temur smiled. “This marriage alliance that they are proposing. Not with you going to Chang’an—but with one of their princes coming here, to us.”

  Ashekan Si blinked. “To us?”

  “Yes. Strange, isn’t it?” Ashekan Temur said, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “The Tang, sending one of their own into our hands. They must think we’re the fiercer side.”

  Ashekan Ruolan tucked a loose strand of hair behind Si’s ear. “They fear us just enough to want peace. It’s a good thing, I think. With all the battles lately, our tribe is stretched thin. We’re strong, but even stone can wear down.”

  Ashekan Temur nodded. “And we don’t want Mobei or Monan thinking they can strike while we’re catching our breath. If the Tang are tied to us, even in name, it makes others pause.”

  “But,” Ashekan Ruolan added, her voice firm but kind, “this isn’t something we’ll decide for you.”

  Ashekan Temur leaned in, his tone softening. “We don’t want you making sacrifices just because it seems like the right thing to do for the tribe. You're not a pawn, Si’er. You’re our daughter.”

  “As stubborn as your Aba,” Ashekan Ruolan teased, giving her husband a pointed look.

  “And as fierce as your Ama,” Ashekan Temur grinned.

  They both turned to Ashekan Si, warmth in their eyes.

  “It’s your life,” Ashekan Ruolan said. “You choose.”

  Ashekan Temur raised his silver cup. “And whatever you choose, we’ll stand behind it. No questions. No regrets.”