Dragon's Fire Consort
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 13
The wedding was a state affair—elaborate, expensive, politically necessary. Zhang Mei attended because refusing would have been insulting, but she stood at the back of the ceremonial hall, watching.
Lady Chen wore crimson and gold, her hair adorned with phoenixes. She looked radiant, composed, every inch the proper noble wife.
Liang stood in formal robes, his expression carefully neutral. When their eyes met across the ceremony, Zhang Mei saw the same thing she felt—duty accepted, feelings buried, practical choices made.
It didn’t make it hurt less.
Crown Prince Zhao presided over parts of the ceremony, playing the role of benevolent elder brother. Zhang Mei watched him carefully, looking for tells, for signs of his next move.
He was too satisfied. Too confident.
That worried her.
The ceremony concluded with traditional bows, exchange of ceremonial items, formal pronouncements. Liang and Lady Chen were married. Legitimate. Official.
Zhang Mei slipped out before the celebration feast began.
She found herself in the palace gardens, by the koi pond where this had all started. Months ago, she’d thrown Liang into this pond. Established boundaries. Made it clear she was a partner, not a possession.
Everything had been simpler then.
“You’re not at the feast.”
She turned. Xiu stood there, looking concerned. The girl had been increasingly worried about Zhang Mei lately—probably noticed the tension, the sleepless nights, the way Zhang Mei threw herself into work to avoid thinking.
“I’m not needed there,” Zhang Mei said.
“Prince Liang asked for you. Three times.”
“He has a wife now. He should focus on her.”
Xiu was quiet for a moment. Then: “My lady, can I speak frankly?”
“When have you ever not?”
“You’re in love with him. Prince Liang.”
Zhang Mei opened her mouth to deny it, then stopped. What was the point? Xiu had been with her through everything—campaigns, poisonings, late nights in the war room. The girl wasn’t stupid.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said instead.
“Of course it matters!”
“No. It doesn’t.” Zhang Mei kept her voice level. “He’s a prince. I’m a foreign advisor. He needs a legitimate wife who can provide heirs and political alliances. I can’t be that. So it doesn’t matter what I feel.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“That’s reality.”
Xiu looked like she wanted to argue more but was interrupted by running footsteps. A guard appeared, breathing hard.
“Captain Zhang! You’re needed. War room. Emergency.”
Zhang Mei was already moving. “What happened?”
“Reports from the northern garrison. Xiongnu forces—massive movement. Thousands of riders, maybe five thousand. They’re not raiding. They’re invading.”
Her blood went cold. Five thousand Xiongnu riders was an army, not a raiding party. And they’d moved while Qin was distracted by a royal wedding.
Perfect timing. Almost too perfect.
She reached the war room at the same time Liang did. He’d shed his ceremonial robes for practical clothing, Lady Chen right behind him—she’d done the same.
The room was already full of officers, maps spread out, reports coming in.
General Zhao—now permanently commanding the northern garrison—had sent urgent dispatches. “They hit three outposts simultaneously. Coordinated assault. Overran defenses before we could respond. Now they’re moving south in force.”
“Toward what objective?” Zhang Mei asked, studying the map.
“Unknown. Could be raiding in force. Could be testing our response. Could be—” General Zhao hesitated. “Could be invasion. Trying to establish permanent presence in our territory.”
“We need to respond immediately,” Liang said. “Full mobilization. How many troops can we deploy?”
“Eight thousand, if we pull from garrisons. Ten if we include reserves.”
“Do it. Mobilize everything. This isn’t a raid we can weather. This is—”
“A coordinated attack timed to capitalize on political distraction,” Zhang Mei finished. She looked at Liang. “Someone told them. About the wedding. About when our defenses would be divided.”
“Zhao,” Liang said quietly.
“We don’t know that,” Lady Chen interjected. She’d moved to study the reports, her analytical mind engaged. “It could be coincidence. Or spies observing normal patterns.”
“Or Crown Prince Zhao coordinating with foreign enemies to eliminate his brother,” Zhang Mei said bluntly.
The room went silent.
“That’s treason,” one of the officers said weakly.
“That’s survival,” Zhang Mei corrected. “If Liang dies fighting the Xiongnu, it’s not assassination. It’s heroic battlefield death. Tragic. Unavoidable. And convenient.”
“We can discuss conspiracy theories later,” Liang cut in. “Right now, we deploy. Captain, tactical assessment?”
She forced herself to focus. To be professional. To analyze rather than feel. “Five thousand Xiongnu moving in force. They have mobility advantage, superior archery, knowledge of terrain. We have numbers, discipline, your tactical training.”
She moved markers on the map. “We can’t defend everywhere. We need to predict their objective and concentrate forces there. Force a decisive engagement on our terms.”
“What’s their objective?” Lady Chen asked.
Good question. Zhang Mei studied the terrain, the settlement patterns, the strategic positions. “They’re not going for cities—too well defended. They’re targeting...” She traced a line. “Supply routes. If they cut our main northern supply line, we can’t maintain permanent garrisons. We’d have to withdraw, concede territory.”
“So we defend the supply route,” Liang said.
“No. We let them think they’re successfully cutting it while positioning our main force to engage them when they’re committed.” She outlined the strategy. “Feint weakness, draw them in, trap them in terrain that favors our tactics.”
“That’s risky,” General Zhao said. “If they don’t take the bait, they actually cut our supply line.”
“Then we make the bait irresistible. Small, visible defense force. Appears undermanned. They’ll see an easy victory.”
“And the actual defense force?”
“Hidden. Waiting. Ready to execute the tactics we’ve drilled a thousand times.”
Planning took hours. Deployment orders, supply coordination, communication protocols. Zhang Mei worked alongside Lady Chen—the woman’s logistics expertise was invaluable for rapid mobilization.
They were good together. Complementary skills, shared focus, mutual respect.
It should have made Zhang Mei feel better. Instead, it drove home what she’d known all along—Lady Chen was the right choice. The practical choice.
The choice that meant Zhang Mei was no longer necessary.
Dawn brought chaos. Eight thousand soldiers mobilized in record time, marching north in organized columns. Zhang Mei rode with the command staff, Liang at the center, Lady Chen managing the logistical coordination.
Everything was happening fast. Too fast for proper preparation.
That was the point. Speed was their advantage. The Xiongnu expected slow, bureaucratic response. Instead, they’d face rapid, decisive action.
If it worked.
Three days of hard marching brought them to the defensive position Zhang Mei had selected—a valley with steep sides, multiple exit routes, and terrain features that would force mounted archers into predictable patterns.
Perfect killing ground.
They set the trap carefully. Visible defense force at the supply route chokepoint—maybe a thousand soldiers, appearing undermanned and vulnerable. The rest concealed in elevated positions, ready to spring the ambush.
Then they waited.
The Xiongnu came at sunset on the second day—four thousand riders in a massive wave, whooping and firing arrows as they charged the visible defense position.
The defense force held formation, returning fire, appearing to desperately hold ground they couldn’t actually defend.
The Xiongnu committed deeper, pressing the attack, seeing victory.
“Now,” Liang ordered.
Flags signaled. The trap sprang.
Hidden archer units opened fire from three sides. The visible defense force scattered into spread formation. Cavalry struck from concealed positions.
The Xiongnu tried to wheel, to adapt, but they were caught in the valley with limited maneuvering space. Their mobility advantage was neutralized. Their superior archery was matched by positioned forces with elevation advantage.
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