“If we force them,” she said, “we are no better than the Huns.”

The wind moved through the bamboo like a held breath. Behind her, the guards shifted uneasily. The fate of three kingdoms balanced on the edge of a single question.

But Mulan had watched the princesses practice swordplay behind the pavilion tents. She had heard Ting-Ting whisper about the baker’s son she truly loved. She had seen Su cry into her sleeve when she thought no one was looking.

“How much do you want this?” she asked them directly.

Then he smiled—the small, crooked smile she had fallen in love with.

The next morning, the caravan took the low road through the bamboo forest. Halfway to the border, Mulan called a halt.

Shang’s jaw tightened. “The Emperor gave us an order. For the good of China.”