Frustration surged through her veins and she yanked her arm out of his grip. She didn’t even know this man; why on earth would be start a fight with her?
Then she realised – to assert his superiority over her and gain the respect from others.
Great. Another arsehole to deal with.
A snarl stretched across her face and she leaned in slightly, keeping her voice low and her words hard. “In this camp, you’re nothing, and you know it. You pick on those smaller than you are to make yourself feel big, when in reality you’re nothing but dirt beneath their feet. Grow up, shut up, and get out of my way before I trample all over you.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes for the briefest of moments before anger exploded within them. His fist came out of nowhere, a blur of speed that smashed into her face, sending her stumbling backwards.
For crying out loud, why does everyone want to hit me?
Sensing the movement rather than seeing it, Mulan ducked, narrowly missing the fist that shot at her again. Releasing the reins, she kicked out, striking his knee and then swirled around him in a graceful action. He swung again; Mulan blocked it with her left arm and struck him with her own, throwing her shoulders and back muscles into it.
Knuckles grazed his jaw, sending him back a few steps, before he lashed out again. This time the blow forced her to the ground, rolling, the air whistling over her head. Her back met the hard ground with a dull thud, and pain blossomed throughout her body.
“Get up, smart boy. Show me what that big brain will do.”
Shaking her head free of the blurriness at the corners of her vision, the sounds of jeering penetrated her ears. A quick glance told her they’d drawn a crowd. Men surrounded them, some without their tunics, their faces stretched with expressions of excitement and enthusiasm.
On your feet, she told herself. You can’t let this bully walk all over you.
Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, Mulan got to her feet, determination racing through her veins. Her foot moved forward, mirroring her opponent’s.
Suddenly, a blast of wind threw them back to the ground. Wondering what in the eighteen hells had just happened, Mulan glanced up. The throng of men parted, giving way to a newcomer. Mulan remained on her arse in the dirt, her breath coming in gasps.
Standing taller than any man she’d ever met in her life, whoever he was, he carried himself with incredible power. Energy crackled off his skin like fat from a roasted pig. Long black hair hung over his shoulders in a midnight curtain, his eyes wide and dark as a river beneath a starry night sky. Smooth skin the colour of cream flowed over his body, his cheeks high and his nose regal. Leather armour etched with intricate dragon designs fashioned from steel enveloped his body, his brown boots reaching his knees and splattered with mud. Across his face, he wore a thunderous expression. “What is going on?”
Silence descended until I-Kill-More-Men-Than-You piped up. “He started it,” he squealed, now sounding more like a rat than a man, pointing his finger at her.
“You hit me first,” Mulan retorted, snorting at him.
“I will not have fighting in my camp,” the newcomer shouted, his voice echoing all around. “Save it for the Rouran.”
So this was the commander of Black Gate. Prince Kang, the Prince of Qin, second son of Emperor Taiwu, and the limits of her knowledge on the imperial family. Forcing herself to breathe through the apprehension, Mulan rose to her feet once more, attempting to steady herself once she did. That wind wasn’t natural. He must possess magic.
The commander strode over to the bigger man and yanked him to his feet in a fluid motion. “Get your arse to the pigs. Tell Shu you’re mucking them out for the next week.”
Dejection washed across his face and he nodded repeatedly until released. “Yes, sir,” and scurried through the now dispersing crowd.
Those dark eyes turned back to her. “I don’t want problems in my camp, understand?”
Nodding, Mulan reminded her heart it didn’t need to beat so fast, but something about this man made it flutter against her ribs like a butterfly yearning for escape. “I had no intention to cause any problems,” she finally said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so breathless as she climbed to her feet. “I just got here five minutes ago, and he hit me.” Why do you have to whine like a small child?
“Somehow I get the feeling you’re going to be more trouble than your worth. Name?”
“Zhou Mohuai. Chief Zhou of Shenzhou is my father.”
Something shifted behind his eyes and he nodded to her horse. “I’m heading your way, so I’ll show you to your tent.” When Mulan made no indication of moving, his eyebrows knitted together in an angry line. “Move it. I don’t have all day.”
Quickly, Mulan grabbed the reins and fell in line behind the commander, hurrying to keep up. Deciding it was better to keep her mouth shut, she glanced around, watching others offer nods and respectful bows in his direction before hurrying in whatever task they’d been assigned.
Eventually, he led her to the far end of the camp, long past the shabby brown tents. Slightly smaller, the blue ones were fashioned from animal hides expertly dyed. The area smelled less than the others. Mulan wondered how many men slept in the blue tents compared to the larger brown ones. This part of the camp lay drenched in silence; no one else was around, leaving them alone.
After tying the horse outside, Prince Kang led her inside. Warmth coated her skin like a second layer, the light dim but relaxing. There was enough space for several men to lay down and still have room to move. Then it hit her.
Daocheng and the others were most likely on their way here. And would be staying with her.
In the tent.
Alone.
Providing they didn’t rat her out first, the little voice in the back of her head reminded her.
Daocheng had been her best friend since they were small children, but never had she shared a room with him, let alone the others.
If I didn’t give Father a heart attack before, he’d have one now if he knew about this.
“I know your father.”
The commander’s silky tones forced her to face him. “You do?” she asked, a frown pulling between her brows.
“He saved my life at the Battle of Jizhou a few years ago. A Rouran sorcerer plunged an enchanted dagger in my gut and left me to die, but Chief Zhou yanked it out and stopped the bleeding. Went on to kill three of those worms.”
“He never told me that story.”
The commander strode forward until he stood before her, towering over her with a dark gleam in his eyes. “I tell you this because it’s the only reason why I didn’t throw your arse out of this camp with my boot lodged between them so far up you’d be spitting leather for a week. We’re at war and I need every man to beat the Rouran, but I will not tolerate violence between my soldiers. Do you understand?”
Mulan swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as a desert. “Yes.”
“Good. I will not repeat myself again.”
Mulan could only nod, gazing up into those eyes. Something in them mesmerised her, caught her in their web and refused to release her. Something fluttered in her stomach, clenching between her thighs.
Heat stained her cheeks and she sucked in a breath as she realised what it was. Don’t look at him that way. He’s your commander, remember? The one that will have you killed if he finds out you’re a girl.
The voice in her head was right. She took a step back but couldn’t look away from him.
Inhaling deeply, the amusement on his face gave way to speculation. “You look too feminine to fight,” he finally said, his voice edged with confusion, along with something else she couldn’t identify.
Without thinking, Mulan rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard that before but meet me on the field and I’ll knock your arse on the ground.” Why in the eighteen hells did you have to say that?
A dark brow shot up towards the heavens. “Such confidence for one who looks too dainty to pick up a sword, let alon
e use one.”
“This sword has seen more action than you’ve seen your entire life,” she replied, patting her jian hanging by her side.
Laughter erupted from the commander’s mouth. “I get more action than I know what to do with when I’m back home.”
Realisation of what he meant stole the words out of her mouth. A blush stained her cheeks and her eyes momentarily dropped lower. Prince Kang’s laughter boomed in her ears. Turning away, he strode out of the tent, leaving her mouth wide open.
Handsome, the voice in her head said.
“Arrogant and conceited, more like,” she muttered.
That, too.
Eight
An elephant stomped its feet, crushing Mulan’s chest – at least, that’s what it felt like each time she inhaled.
Mulan rolled to the side, her jian tight in her grip as she faced her opponent. Sweat dripped down his bare chest, his dark skin gleaming in the noonday sun, his face set with determination and frustration. They’d been at this for at least fifteen minutes by now.
Mulan feinted to the right as he shot forward, ducking beneath his arm and swiping out with her leg, sending him crashing to the floor. His fists were fierce and strong – the ones he rained down on her chest only moments ago testament to that – but the clumsy movements gave her more than enough advantage against him.
“Stop,” shouted Trainer Gao, a small man with a clean-shaven face and tiny eyes. “Ban, Chu. You’re up next.”
Staggering to the side, Mulan watched the next pair begin their training as she willed the constant ache in her body to disappear.
Six days had passed since her arrival and still Daocheng and the others hadn’t arrived. Not that she had a lot of time to dwell on it. Early morning starts and a rigorous training schedule left both the body and mind exhausted. As soon as her head hit the floor, she was out.
Across the way, the more experienced soldiers parted, revealing the commander who watched with an assessing expression upon his face. Ao Kang, she learnt, his name whispered with equal measures of respect and dread.
Rumours circulated the camp with each gust of wind. One stated he was a monster, sent to punish the Rouran; another claimed his father saddled him with the worst army as punishment for defying him. Others maintained he transformed into a dragon and burnt his last army to ash for annoying him.
Whatever the rumours, Mulan couldn’t deny the incredible power that radiated from him. It was as if a river of magic welled beneath his skin, ready to flood the world with it.
Shouts reverberated through the area, the thuds of fists and booted feet striking flesh. Half the men in the camp remained stripped to their waists, their bodies layered with sweat. The notion of being surrounded by half naked men she didn’t know left her uneasy at first, but a few days in and she’d became used to it.
But not to the occasional glances Prince Kang sent her way.
Like the one right now.
Standing on the opposite of the ring, those dark eyes of his met hers, locking in and refusing to let her look away. What magic did he possess to do this to her? Controlling her breathing, Mulan reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it beneath her leather helmet. His nostrils flared, his jawline ticked.
Just off to his left, another man threw his tunic to the ground. Unlike the others, stripping down to just her trousers was out of the question. Training and the beating heat of the sun left her body sweating like a pig but unfortunately, it was just something she had to endure.
A body sailed past her, causing her to drop her gaze and take a step back. She didn’t know which was Ban and which was Chu, but one of them lay motionless on the floor, his face eating dirt. Cheers rang through the crowd and someone helped drag him to the side.
Every day for three hours, the newest recruits would compete against each other in hand to hand combat, the idea behind it to get them used to fighting real people. Four hours were spent in group formation, learning how to swing a sword in time with each other without striking fellow soldiers.
Fortunately, years of training with Daocheng and her friends allowed her to join a group of soldiers possessing more advanced skills than the others.
“Zhou and Huo.”
Mulan’s name whipped her attention up to find Trainer Gao standing beside the commander. An indecipherable look stretched over his face, his dark eyes still fastened upon her face. “But I just went,” she blurted out, her hand covering her armour protected chest where her opponent struck.
“Shut up and get out there,” Trainer Gao scoffed.
Ignoring the chanting flowing around the human-formed square, Mulan slowly stepped forward. Refusing a superior’s orders would get her in trouble and as much as she wanted to head back into the crowd, she’d only be pushed back out.
A groan slipped out of her mouth as she recognised her newest opponent. The stench of pig consumed him.
“Little boy,” Huo called from several feet away. “Time for me to show you who’s boss.”
Snorting, Mulan reached for her sheathed jian and gestured towards Prince Kang. “I already know who he is. He’s standing there and he doesn’t reek like a pig’s arse.”
A burst of laughter erupted around them. Huo’s black brows winged down and his mouth stretched into an angry line. Pulling out a dao, the sunlight glinting off the metal almost blinded her.
Sidestepping to the right, Mulan pulled herself into a lower stance. Observing his approach, her muscles tensed.
Suddenly, the dao swung through the air in a deadly arc. Within her chest, Mulan’s heart thumped wildly as she spun out of its way, bringing up her jian. Their two swords sang from the impact, Huo’s face etched with resolve to bring her down.
When pigs fly.
Mulan slid her jian down his until they no longer touched and twirled to the right. A flurry of attacks sent her backwards several paces. Ducking beneath the outstretched sword, she swept his legs out from under him, and he fell to the floor with a thud.
Within a spilt second, Huo regained his feet and raced towards her, wearing a mask of rage upon his face. Mulan parried the strike he hurtled her way, bringing up her knee and acquainting it with his groin.
His mouth formed an almost perfect o-shape, and the surprise of it allowed Mulan to press her advantage. A battle-cry rushed out of her mouth, joining in with the laughter and shouting around them, as she unleashed her might. Knuckles white on the hilt, she threw away all caution.
Gritting his teeth, Huo brought up the dao just as her weapon came sailing down within an inch of his face. Sparks flew as their blades met. Mulan mirrored each action; following his footsteps, raising her blade as he did, meeting his sword each time his came hurtling her way.
Exhaustion from the earlier fight lined her limbs. The seconds stretched to an eternity and the crowd around them faded into nothing. Only the sound of her heart thrashing against the confines of her ribcage penetrated her ears.
As Huo’s sword slashed through the air, narrowly missing her shoulder by an inch, he shot her a look, his eyes promising nothing but pain. “Little boys should be playing in the dirt with their toys,” he taunted.
“Funny,” Mulan spat. “Pigs like you should be back in the sty where they belong.”
Metal rang out as their swords met above their heads.
As Huo opened his mouth to respond, the sound of a horn pierced the air. Turning her head in the direction it came from, she was away only of pain tearing through her chest before flying through the sky.
A throbbing blossomed through her chest, right at the same spot where her earlier opponent felt the need to strike. When she finally opened her eyes, the sky loomed above her. Mocking and boos echoed through her head as she realised she lay on her back.
Hands grabbed her arms, pulling her to her feet. It took her a moment to stand without falling over. Shaking her head to clear away the fog, Mulan glanced over to watch Huo heckling with a group of other soldiers, all pointing her wa
y.
Bastard.
“It could happen to anyone,” a voice said through the din.
She turned, identifying the face it belonged to. Vaguely recognising the young man but not his name, his hair was tied up in a knot upon his head, his rounded face warm and open.
Wincing, it took Mulan a second to locate her jian. “Thanks.”
As she bent down to retrieve the weapon, Trainer Gao ordered for them to take a rest and the crowds began to ebb away. Frowning, she sheathed her sword, gazing out, wondering what could’ve caused such interest.
“You’re a pretty decent fighter,” the commander’s voice said from her side. “If you didn’t allow yourself to be so distracted.”
Twisting her body, Mulan glanced at him. Sunlight glittered on the waterfall of black hair that fell past his shoulders, his dark eyes peering down at her. “Sorry?”
“Distractions will get you killed on the battlefield,” Prince Kang continued, his tone low and hard. “I’ve seen it happen to even the most skilled warriors.”
“I don’t plan to die on the battlefield.”
“Good. Trainer Gao says you’re one of the best men in the group. If you can keep your focus, you may make the cut.” He paused and narrowed his eyes. “Did your father teach you how to fight?”
Mulan shook her head. “Not really. I trained with my friends instead.”
A frown pulled at his forehead. “He didn’t teach you? Surely all men want their sons to be great warriors?”
Idiot! Mulan berated herself. Swallowing, she hurried to come up with an excuse. “Father thought I was much too delicate a boy to learn and Mother is incredibly overprotective.”
Before he could answer, one of the administrator’s came rushing up, his chubby face stained with red. “Chief Zhou’s bannermen have arrived.”
Honour, She Obeys Page 9
