By the time they had fought their way to the top floor of the citadel, Erhi was exhausted but elated. Her sword arm was ready to drop dead and her shoulders were rubbed raw from the straps on her armour, but she barely took any notice. All her attention was focused on taking the enemy's standard, the flag she had seen fluttering so tantalisingly from down below. Her blood was up and she felt closer to her fellow warriors than she had ever felt to anyone before. She vaguely understood that Yue and his father were somewhere nearby, but she hadn't paid them any attention since entering the citadel. The flag was all she could think about, she had to find that flag.

The spiral staircase came to an abrupt halt. In front of her was a wide open space, a balcony atop the citadel. A handful of finely dressed Khwarezmid's were huddled at the end of the balcony, cowering beneath the shadow of the flag, praying for it to protect them. On seeing Erhi, one of the courtiers climbed onto the balustrade and tumbled over the edge, clearly preferring death to captivity. A few ran forward and prostrated themselves at her feet, trying to grab hold of her boots and kiss them. She kicked them aside. One brave man stood up with his head held high. Erhi walked towards him, raised her sword and cut him down without breaking her stride. Resistance was futile. Death had now become second nature to her.

She heard a sharp intake of breath from over her shoulder and glanced to see Yue looking ashen and pale. She shrugged as if to say so what. This was war. Men died, women too. If anything she was showing the courtier mercy by killing him. Better to die now than stay alive for this evening's entertainment. She stood beneath the flag and gazed out over the city. All the buildings were now covered in a pall of smoke. Fires raged everywhere and cries had become like water running over rocks, a constant background hum. She felt a savage triumph well up inside her and raised her fist in salute to the Great Khan who must be somewhere below. Once you developed a taste for it destruction was easy, satisfying even. Watching a city burn was addictive, especially when you were the one setting the fires.

Erhi tore herself away from the doomed city and turned her attention to the flag. She clambered up onto the railing and reached up to untie the ropes holding it to the pole. As she was doing so she heard a shout go up from the balcony. One of the courtiers who had prostrated himself at her feet had stood up and was running towards her hollering at the top of his lungs. Erhi froze. Caught in the horrifying realisation that she was about to tumble to her death. There was a blur of movement and the before he could reach her the courtier let out a cry and keeled over onto his front, an arrow sticking out of his back. Yue slowly lowered his bow and walked towards the dying man. It had been the perfect shot, reactive yet precise. Looking at Erhi all the while, he reached down and snapped the man's neck. His eyes speaking the words that his mouth could not say. This is what I would do for you, he seemed to be saying. Erhi nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Relief at being alive coursed through her veins alongside a heady dose of reality. She was still mortal and Yue still cared for her. Ever so carefully, she stood on her tiptoes and lowered the flag. A great roar of victory boomed up from the city below, making her feel giddy all over again. She looked at the flag, a yellow crescent moon against a green background and was struck by how inconsequential it seemed now that it was in her hands. Had she really fought her way up the citadel, killing men floor by floor, in order to obtain this? She folded it into a square and held it in her arms, caught between the need to hold it tight and throw it away.

The Mongols who had fought beside her hoisted Erhi into the air and carried her round the balcony cheering. She was their lucky token, their gift from Tengri, the girl who had captured Samarkand. This was the moment she had been dreaming of, the scenario she had played through her head a dozen, probably even a hundred times. That point in the battle when her bravery was acknowledged and she ceased to be seen as a daughter of a concubine, a helpless captive to be traded from one owner to the next. Yet she didn't feel triumphant, instead she felt hollow, like there was something missing.

Yue and his father were whispering to one another out of earshot. Their conversation looked heated. Yue's father kept gesticulating, pointing inside the citadel, while Yue forcefully shook his head. What an earth could they be taking about, wondered Erhi? She wanted to go over and ask them but the men kept throwing her into the air and shouting. She began to feel sick and dizzy, overpowered by the clamour of hands and hot breath. She clutched onto the flag for dear life because it felt like the only tangible thing within her grasp. Everything else was disorienting motion. The world spun. She felt her bile rising. Then it happened. She threw up. The men cheered. They would have cheered anything that she did, but thankfully they put her down. She steadied herself and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. She wanted to rinse away the acrid taste of vomit but there was no water nearby. A familiar pair of hands gently brought her to her feet. Yue.

"Yue, don't" said his father.

But whatever it was that Yue wasn't meant to do, didn't matter. He hugged her close and spoke into her ear.

"There's a way out, a tunnel that the Shah used to escape. Come with us?" pleaded Yue.

She pushed him away. Escape? Run away at her moment of triumph? Did Yue not know her at all? He must have read the disappointment in her face because he started to speak again, his eyes imploring her, but her heart had turned cold. No, he couldn't ask her to make a choice like that, if he truly loved her then he'd never make her choose. She didn't stop to think about Yue's father, or about his life, his real life, in the future. All she could see was another man trying to stop her from getting what she wanted. So, this was it then. Yue had finally revealed his true colours. In a fit of spite she wanted to denounce him, tell her fellow warriors about the tunnel so that they couldn't' escape. But then she saw the look on the face of Yue's father. His weather-beaten features were full of careworn love for his son. She suddenly felt cruel and unworthy. Yue also had a family, a life removed from her. What should she do?

At that moment a horn rang out, blasting across the balcony. Jebe arrived, resplendent in his golden mask, a head taller than the other Mongols. He cast his eyes around the balcony and alighted on her, his features impossible to read beneath his frozen golden face.

"Girl" barked out Jebe, his voice rough.

"I'm not a girl, I'm Erhi" smarted Erhi.

This elicited a roar of approval from the Mongols on the balcony, some of whom had managed to find the palace's supply of wine and were busy getting drunk. Jebe lifted up his mask, revealing a surprisingly soft face, not at all in keeping with his tall frame. His eyes, however, were as hard as diamonds. Two piercing black dots that bored right through you and they were focused squarely on Erhi.

"Erhi, we've met before. Only then you were unconscious and I told that boy" Jebe waved in the direction of Yue "to take you back home, where you belong."

"Where I belong is here" replied Erhi, unfurling the captured flag.

They looked at each other, warlord and girl, sizing each other up. All good leaders of men have a sense for the current of the crowd, the fickle flow of their support. Jebe read his audience on the balcony and accepted their decision.

"There's a saying that a Mongol has no master except the sky. I can see that I was wrong about you Erhi and perhaps the gods were wrong about you as well. You never should have been born a girl, you should have been born a Mongol" said Jebe.

"I am a Mongol" replied Erhi, raising the flag above her head as the crowd roared its approval.

They locked eyes and Erhi knew that he was deciding her fate. She didn't blink or look away. Those coal-dark eyes didn't scare her, much.

"The Khan wants to see you. Bring the Chinese as well" said Jebe matter-of-factly.

There was an awed silence on the balcony. She was going to see the Great Khan, Genghis himself. She felt weak at the knees. Excited and fearful. She was going to meet a god.