The wedding was held that same evening.
Following steppe customs, it was quick and without unnecessary ceremony. The khan ordered a sheep slaughtered, wine poured, and musicians called. The feast was loud, long, and drunk.
Amanda sat at the head of the table, her black armor gleaming in the firelight. Naya sat beside her, eyes lowered, occasionally stealing shy glances at her “husband.”
Amanda ate nothing. Drank nothing. She simply sat there, thinking about how to escape this new trap.
Leo, she called mentally. Are you there?
I’m here, my lady, Leo’s voice sounded in her head. Invisible, he stood just two steps away.
What am I supposed to do?
I don’t know, my lady. But this… this is quite amusing.
Leo!
Forgive me. I’ll be quiet.
Torglin, also invisible, let out a quiet snort from somewhere in the corner. Amanda was certain the old dwarf was eating and drinking for three, taking full advantage of the fact that no one could see him.
The feast lasted deep into the night.
The khan finally rose, said his noisy farewells, and clapped Amanda heavily on the shoulder (she barely managed not to flinch).
“Well then,” he said, “I’ll leave the newlyweds alone. Naya, be a good wife.”
He left the tent. The guests followed him out one by one.
Amanda remained alone with the girl.
Naya sat on the carpet, nervously fiddling with the hem of her dress. She had removed her veil, and Amanda saw her face clearly — young, beautiful, with high cheekbones and full lips.
“My lord,” Naya said softly. “I… I understand that you did not want this marriage. But I promise to be a good wife. I will take care of your household, your children…”
“Children,” Amanda repeated in her metallic voice.
“Yes,” Naya blushed. “I want many children. Boys, strong like you. I…”
“Naya,” Amanda raised her hand, stopping her.
The girl fell silent, looking up at the black figure with trembling reverence.
“You… are beautiful,” Amanda said. “Smart. Kind. You deserve a better husband than…”
“Better?” Naya looked surprised. “You are the greatest warrior in the steppe. You defeated my father multiple times. You wear black armor that you never remove, even in the face of death. You…”
“I will not remove my helmet,” Amanda interrupted. “Never. Not in front of you. Not in front of anyone.”
Naya froze.
“Is that… true?” she whispered. “The legends say…”
“The legends lie,” Amanda stood up. “I will not remove my helmet. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never.”
Naya stared at her. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Why?” she whispered. “Do you think I am unworthy?”
“It’s not about you,” Amanda turned away. “It’s about me. My face… it is my curse. Whoever sees it will be cursed. Or I will be. I don’t know. But I do know one thing: I cannot take that risk.”
Naya remained silent for a long time.
“I understand,” she said at last. Her voice was quiet, but firm. “You will not remove your helmet. That is your right. I will not ask again.”
She stood up and walked over to Amanda.
“But I will still be your wife,” she continued. “I will wait. A year, two, ten years. Until you decide. Or until I die.”
She took Amanda’s hand — the cold steel gauntlet — and pressed her cheek against it.
“You saved my father from disgrace,” she whispered. “You gave him peace when he was about to lose everything. I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life.”
Amanda stood motionless, feeling the warmth of the girl’s cheek through the steel.
Inside her, everything screamed with despair.
Randel… she thought. What have I done?
She didn’t know how she would ever get out of this mess. But she knew one thing for certain:
There was no turning back.
For three days the city lived in tense uncertainty, not knowing whether the Reaper would return alive. The khan’s army had withdrawn deeper into the steppe, but no one believed the war was truly over. Too much blood had been spilled. Too many deaths stood between them.
Amanda returned on the fourth day.
The sentries spotted her an hour before she arrived — a cloud of dust rising on the horizon. At first they thought it was another attack. Horns blared, warriors scrambled for their weapons.
But the cloud approached slowly, without the usual swiftness of steppe cavalry.
“It’s not an attack,” Tor said, peering into the distance. “It’s a procession.”
He was right.
When the first figures emerged from the dusty haze, the entire city fell silent.
At the head rode the Reaper.
Black armor gleamed under the sun — new, polished, without a single scratch. The khan had spared no expense: the armor wasn’t merely repaired, it was better than before. Golden inlays adorned the pauldrons, a black cloak trimmed with gold flowed behind him, and a new sword rested in a ruby-studded scabbard. The Reaper no longer looked like a steppe warrior. He looked like a lord.
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Behind him rode fifty horsemen in black armor — the khan’s personal guard. The khan had gifted them to the Reaper as a sign of respect… or control. Who could say? Either way, they looked formidable. Black horses, black shields, black spears with crimson banners. No unit in the city could match them — except perhaps Randel’s own.
And behind the riders came camels, heavily loaded with gold, silk, carpets, and chests of coins. The dowry of the khan’s daughter. More wealth than the city earned in an entire year. More than Kaelan could have earned in his whole life.
And in the center of this procession of riches, riding a white horse beneath a silk canopy to shield her from the sun, was her.
Naya.
The khan’s daughter was beautiful. A silk dress the color of sunset, golden ornaments woven into her black hair, and a translucent veil covering the lower half of her face. Even through the veil, it was clear — she was smiling. Shyly. Happily.
Beside her rode three maidservants in green garments, holding fans and baskets of fragrant incense.
The city remained deathly silent.
Hundreds of eyes watched the procession in disbelief. The man who had come to them as a simple warrior was returning as a conqueror.
“Holy shit,” someone breathed from the crowd. “Is that really our Reaper?”
“They say he married the khan’s daughter,” another whispered.
“Married? But he’s already married to Mia…”
“Steppe folk allow multiple wives.”
“Quiet! Look!”
The procession passed through the gates.
Tor stood at the entrance, arms crossed over his massive chest. His face was like stone — the bear-man had never been good at hiding his emotions, but right now he was clearly trying. Respect and worry warred in his eyes.
“Reaper,” he growled. “You’re back.”
“I gave my word,” the Reaper’s voice rang out, metallic as always. Yet there was something new in it — confidence… or perhaps exhaustion.
“And…” Tor nodded toward Naya. “This is your…”
“My wife,” the Reaper cut him off. “Naya, daughter of the khan. She will live with us. I have struck a successful deal with the khan. I’ll explain the details to everyone later.”
Tor swallowed hard. He looked at the girl, who was watching him with a mix of curiosity and faint fear.
“Mia…” he began.
“I will speak with Mia,” the Reaper interrupted. “Where is Kaelan?”
“In the lazaret. He’s doing better, but the arm… we couldn’t save it.”
The Reaper nodded. He turned to Naya.
“Stay with the guards for now. I’ll return soon.”
“I understand, my lord,” Naya lowered her eyes. Her voice was quiet and obedient, yet it carried an unmistakable strength — she was still the khan’s daughter, and even in submission she knew her worth.
The Reaper dismounted and strode into the city.
The crowd parted before him like water before the prow of a ship. People stared at the black figure with a mixture of awe and fear. This man had saved them. This man had negotiated with the khan. This man had brought gold, soldiers, and the khan’s own daughter.
This man was no longer just a warrior.
He had become power itself.
Randel watched everything from the rooftop of the inn.
He saw the procession enter through the gates. He saw the black guard. He saw the camels laden with gold. He saw the girl in silk looking at the Reaper with open adoration.
He saw the city accept its new ruler.
“My lord,” Erhard stood beside him, unable to hide his astonishment. “This… this is unexpected.”
“Unexpected?” Randel gave a bitter smile. “This is brilliant. The khan didn’t just make a deal. He bound the Reaper to him — with gold, with troops, and with a wife. Now the Reaper is his son-in-law. His viceroy. His… man.”
“Do you think the Reaper agreed willingly?”
“I don’t know,” Randel shook his head. “But I do know that refusal would have meant death. For him. For the city. For all of us.”
“And so…”
“And so he married,” Randel gripped the railing so tightly his knuckles turned white. “The daughter of the man he fought against. A girl he doesn’t even know. A woman who…”
He fell silent.
“My lord?”
“Nothing,” Randel released the railing. “Go downstairs. Tell the men to prepare.”
“For what?”
“For anything,” Randel said, his eyes still fixed on the black figure that had already disappeared into the crowd. “The war is over. The politics have begun.”
Amanda walked toward the lazaret, each step heavier than the last.
Not because of wounds — but because of the weight crushing her soul. She felt the eyes on her. Hundreds of them. Respect. Fear. Admiration. But not a single one held any understanding.
She wanted to rip off her helmet. She wanted to scream: “I’m not him! I’m not a warrior! I’m not a leader! I’m just a girl trying to save her brother!”
But she stayed silent. Because the truth would destroy everything.
The lazaret was quiet.
Kaelan was sitting up in bed, pale and gaunt. His right arm ended in a neatly bandaged stump. Yet his eyes still burned with the same fire she remembered from the early days of the rebellion.
“You’re back,” he said when he saw the Reaper.
“I’m back,” Amanda replied. She sat down beside him and removed the Reaper’s helmet.
“So? Did the khan believe it?”
“He believed it,” Amanda nodded. “He gave me gold, troops, and his daughter.”
“Gold and troops are good,” Kaelan smirked. “The daughter… that’s a problem.”
“I know.”
“Have you told Mia yet?”
“Not yet.”
“She’ll find out. The whole city already knows. You married the khan’s daughter. That’s… a big step.”
“It was necessary.”
“All big steps are necessary,” Kaelan looked at her seriously. “Can you handle it?”
Amanda stayed silent.
“Sister,” Kaelan said softly. “Can you handle it?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know who I am anymore. The Reaper? A warrior? A viceroy? A husband? I’m playing so many roles that I’ve forgotten which one is real.”
“The real one is the one you choose,” Kaelan took her hand with his remaining left one. “You’ve always chosen correctly. You’ll choose correctly now too.”
Amanda wanted to reply, but at that moment Mia appeared in the doorway. Luckily, she had managed to put the helmet back on in time.
The wolfgirl stood with her arms crossed, staring at the Reaper. Her eyes were as cold as a winter sky.
“I’ve been waiting for you, husband,” she said.
“Mia…”
“Not here,” she turned sharply. “Follow me.”
Amanda glanced at Kaelan. He gave her a small nod.
“Go. Talk to her. She deserves the truth.”
The truth, Amanda thought as she stood up. She deserves the truth. But not all of it. Not yet.
She followed Mia out of the lazaret.
They stood outside the tent — the very one where the two of them had lived together. Soon, another woman would live there as well.
“You got married,” Mia said. Her voice was steady, but Amanda (the Reaper) could hear the tremor beneath it.
“It was a necessary measure,” Amanda replied, offering no excuses. “The Khan made it a condition. No marriage, no deal. No deal, no peace. And war… war means death.”
“I know,” Mia turned to face her. “I know you did it for the city. For us. For Kaelan.”
“Then why are you angry?”
“Because you didn’t ask me!” Mia’s voice rose. “Because you didn’t tell me! Because I had to find out about your new wife from the market women, who laughed in my face!”
“I’m sorry,” Amanda lowered her head. “I didn’t have time. I had to decide quickly. Every minute of delay could have cost us peace.”
“And what about my minutes?” Mia stepped closer. “My minutes spent waiting for you? My nights praying you’d come back alive? Do those mean nothing?”
“They mean everything,” Amanda lifted her head. The red lenses of her helmet met Mia’s eyes. “You mean more than I can ever give. I know that. And I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Mia let out a bitter laugh. “You’re telling me ‘sorry’?”
“I said ‘forgive me,’” Amanda corrected gently. “I know it changes nothing. I know you have every right to be angry. To hate me. Even to demand a divorce.”
“Divorce?” Mia froze.
“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you,” Amanda took a step back. “I’ll give you land, gold, guards. You’ll be free.”
“You… you’re asking me to leave?” Mia stared at her, disbelief in her voice.
“You fool,” Mia whispered. “You’re such a fool, Reaper.”
She stepped forward and struck Amanda in the chest. It wasn’t hard — more from helplessness than real anger.
“I’m not leaving,” she said. “Do you hear me? I’m not leaving. I didn’t wait through all those nights just to abandon you now.”
“Mia…”
“I’m not jealous,” Mia cut her off. “I’m not jealous, Reaper. I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“That you’ll become someone else,” Mia looked straight into the red lenses. “You’ve always been mine. Only mine. I knew you never took off your helmet. I knew you were hiding a secret. I accepted it. But now… now you’re sharing our life with someone else.”
“This changes nothing,” Amanda said, reaching for her hand. “Between us.”
“But it should,” Mia pulled her hand away. “You don’t understand, Reaper. You don’t understand what it means to be a woman who has to share her husband with another.”
If only you knew, Amanda thought. If only you knew that I’m a woman too…
She wanted to say it. Wanted to remove her helmet, show her face, explain everything. But she couldn’t. Not yet.
“Give me time,” she said instead. “I’ll make it right.”
“It’s already been made right,” Mia shook her head. “You brought her here. She’s here now. This is her home too.”
“Give me time,” Amanda repeated.
Mia held her gaze for a long moment. Then she turned and walked away.
Amanda stood alone.
She stepped inside the tent, dropped to her knees, and removed her helmet.
The air touched her face — damp, hot, carrying the salty trails of tears down her cheeks.
“What have I done?” she whispered. “What have I done?”
There was no answer.
Only the wind sighing across the steppe, and somewhere in the city, people cheering for the return of their hero.