"Who stole my fish?!" A torch spat flame into the night and a voice cut through the valley like a command. They sounded angry and entertained at the same time. I flattened myself into the grass and counted breaths the way my old team taught me: in, three seconds, out. Two more cycles and the world would narrow to the crunch of dry grass under palm and the heat of the embers on my skin. "Not one of the Hua family," a laughing tone said. "Those girls are ornaments, not thieves." "Maybe ornaments can spoil a hunt," the other voice said dryly. "Show yourself," the first voice ordered. "Show ourselves," an amused voice corrected, closer now, and then a new edge cut in. "Or I'll have the regent make an example of whoever dares sneak near his guests." I heard the silk on armor before I saw the man. The torchlight passed over a face someone had described to me in hushed court gossip: the Prince who smiled with other people's money. He moved like he belonged to every open field. "Prince Qi," someone murmured. That name landed in my bones like recognition and threat both. He came with a flank of gilded guards and another man who moved with the economy of someone who never wasted motion. The man was all shadows and measured steps. He watched the valley the way sentry dogs watch the gate—cold and exact. "Taifu Shen Rongyan," another low voice identified him