Behind her came Yuwen Jian and Yuwen Lin, their broad shoulders filling the doorway.
The scent of sandalwood and cold night air clung to them.
They found her not sitting in shocked stillness, but pacing through the torn rug, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, hands rubbing her upper arms as if freezing.
The motion was restless, frantic, a trapped animal measuring its cage. She stopped shortly as they entered, her body tensing up.
"Yueshuang," her mother began softly, but with unspoken questions. She reached out, but Yueshuang took a small step back, avoiding her touch.
Yuwen Jian's gaze was sharp, missing nothing. He took in her disheveled state, the wildness in her eyes that had nothing to do with tears and everything to do with caged power and fear. "Sister," he called her, his voice low and steady. "The healers are with him. The wound was clean. He is strong, he will be fine..."
