After leaving Vladimir, Güyük’s army marched north. From Rostov they turned west, plundering and burning towns, villages, and settlements as they advanced toward Torzhok.

  Under Güyük’s command, Sarnai led her own troops, setting fire to every settlement she found. The number of buildings did not matter.

  Whether the villagers resisted or not, she ordered their limbs severed. Those who fled had their skulls smashed without exception. Her cruelty was feared even within Güyük’s ranks. Nothing remained in the wake of her army, not even half-burned charcoal. Everything was destroyed thoroughly, the ground stained black with soot and dark red with blood.

  The young princes, M?ngke among them, and their soldiers feared her in their hearts. Some had begun calling her the Ruthless Princess General, the Merciless Commander.

  Yet Sarnai took women and children captive.

  They were gathered into large tents reserved for prisoners, given blankets and food. Some accused her of being soft in her treatment of captives. She would reply that in poor villages with no valuables worth seizing, what else was there but slaves? Women fetched higher prices than men. Children died quickly, which was why they were kept in tents and fed. If someone believed a dead child could be sold, they were welcome to try.

  When Sarnai entered the prisoners’ tent, the women and children all turned toward her at once. The women were pale, clutching their children tightly.

  She walked through the tent, checking for sickness or injury.

  One child suddenly darted forward and fell at her feet. A sharp intake of breath rippled through the tent.

  Sarnai looked down.

  The child stared up at her, eyes wide, frozen in terror.

  She knelt and helped the child up, then lightly pressed a finger into the softness of the child’s cheek. A woman who must have been the mother prostrated herself, as if begging for mercy.

  Sarnai said nothing. She gently pushed the child back toward the mother and left the tent.

  The faint warmth of the child’s skin lingered at her fingertips. She clenched her hand as if to shake off the sensation.

  She had failed to kill a child again tonight.

  She would never be able to, she knew. Born this way. Nothing to be done. It could not be helped.

  Now her unit had been ordered by Prince Güyük to scout the northern movements. They had turned their course toward Novgorod.

  She would not see Norjin for some time.

  Why waver now?

  She had chosen that farewell herself.

  Zaya and her party left Novgorod and headed for Torzhok. There was no need to hurry. The Novgorod council would not send any reply for at least a week.

  When would Güyük’s northern army reach Torzhok? Norjin privately hoped they would burn it before he arrived. The snow would melt soon. Perhaps they could even pass the time fishing.

  “Zaya, look.”

  One of the soldiers pointed ahead. Several mounted riders were approaching.

  Zaya raised her hand, halting the unit, and waited for the riders to draw near.

  They were scouts from Sarnai’s army, separated from the main force on their way toward Novgorod.

  “I didn’t expect to meet you here,” Sarnai said as she greeted Zaya and Norjin. Her eyes paused briefly on Norjin’s face, then shifted away.

  “You said you would move south from Torzhok. Novgorod is too far west. I suppose they didn’t expect you to extend your march this far,” Norjin replied.

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  “What is Torzhok’s situation?”

  “I parted from the army before reaching it. By now they may be surrounding it. We’ll leave Novgorod to you. We’ll return to Torzhok. It’s a little early, but we’ll camp here tonight and turn back at dawn.”

  “Understood. Let us join you. What do you say, Zaya?”

  “I don’t mind. I’m your escort. I go where you go.”

  “Very well. I’ll give orders for camp,” Sarnai said, turning to instruct the supply handlers.

  Zaya also turned her back on Norjin and returned to her unit. Norjin followed after her.

  Past midnight, Norjin awoke to the sound of running feet. He threw on a fur cloak and stepped outside.

  People were moving in and out of a larger tent toward the rear. He stopped a servant carrying a pot and asked what had happened.

  “One of the captive women has gone into labor. It seems difficult.”

  Behind him, Zaya suddenly ran back to her tent and returned almost at once with a leather pouch of medicines.

  “Take me there. I know what to do.”

  She hurried toward the tent, urging the servant to move faster. Norjin followed more slowly.

  Inside, women and children were huddled together. Sarnai was supporting the laboring woman, rubbing her back and encouraging her.

  Zaya knelt beside the woman, speaking gently as she examined her.

  Norjin hesitated. Perhaps he should leave. But he could not leave Zaya alone. He seated himself near the entrance, careful not to interfere.

  Time passed.

  At last, a baby’s cry pierced the air.

  The women began murmuring encouragement and relief.

  Sarnai stood abruptly and stepped outside. She did not seem to notice Norjin.

  He followed her.

  Dawn light was beginning to spread across the sky. Sarnai stood some distance away, head bowed.

  As he approached, Norjin realized she was crying silently.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, hurrying toward her.

  She flinched, startled. Her face was wet with tears.

  “It just... got to me, that's all. It’s extraordinary, isn’t it? A child being born.”

  Her voice trembled.

  Norjin’s eyes narrowed slightly. It was the look he wore when he sensed a lie.

  Sarnai quickly wiped her eyes and straightened.

  "The child we never had — were you thinking of it?"

  Sarnai went rigid. Like a deer that has seen death standing right in front of it.

  "How do you know that." Not a question. Barely a sound.

  "So it's true."

  His eyes went cold and flat.

  "You baited me. You filthy—" She wrenched away. He caught her wrist.

  "When? No. Don't." His grip tightened. "By the time you came back from Goryeo with that ridiculous lie — it had already happened. Hadn't it."

  "I don't know what you're talking about. Let go of me."

  "Don't tell me I'm wrong." His voice dropped. "And don't pretend you've forgotten. You told me you had someone else. And then you still came to me. What does that make you, Sarnai."

  Her eyes flashed.

  “I didn’t know. I didn’t know I was carrying a child.”

  Her strong expression betrayed by her trembling voice.

  Norjin released her hand.

  “You could have said that instead of telling a foolish lie.”

  At his weary tone, something inside her finally collapsed.

  “I… I can’t have children anymore.”

  Her voice shook.

  “I know you don’t like children. But even so, it’s strange, isn’t it? One day you would need one. A child. A family. I wanted you to be happy.”

  “That's not yours to decide. My happiness is mine.” Norjin said flatly.

  “Please. Try to understand. All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

  Norjin looked away from her pleading face.

  Small flakes of snow drifted around them as they stood there.

  By the time Zaya returned, the sky was fully bright and Sarnai’s army had already departed for Torzhok.

  Zaya was guiding a woman who had given birth the night before, carried on a plank. In her arms was the newborn, and beside her walked a young boy, likely her son.

  “They can’t travel with them. We’re not in a hurry. We can make our way back to Torzhok slowly, watching their condition. That’s what I told General Sarnai.”

  Norjin could not find any words to say to the exhausted Zaya.