She lay still on the pebbles, her cheeks streaked with Elemér's blood, a stray lock of dark hair obscuring her view, glazed eyes staring at the cloudless sky. For a moment, the noise around them turned into a steady hum of a beehive. Leaning over Emőke, Elemér proffered her a hand that she rejected. Again. Even now, she did not accept him.

No matter how high Emőke rose, no matter what she became, she would always remain the 'girl that rejected him' for Elemér. She did not remember, of course. Why would she?

Once, in a far-away land, in front of another bridge, a handsome young man knelt before a promising architect, saying, "Take my heart, take my life. Anything." A cold 'no' was her answer. She didn't give him an explanation, but he didn't need one. She didn't want him not because she was busy studying materials and proportions. Not because she had no time.

No, it was because she, like everyone else, saw Lightning - the strange bastard famous for the eccentricities that would have landed every other Magor in prison. He was a brilliant musician, everyone said. A man who knew no rules and paid no respects, an artist flaunting his freedom without deserving it. That was unfair! Of course, Emőke would fall for someone like Lightning, not Elemér, who wouldn't have been considered an artist had he not been Magor.

When Emőke rose to her feet, rearranging the string decoration on her green jacket, the brightly-dressed Sen officers surrounded them in a circle. Disciplined and moving like limbs attached to the same body, they dipped their heads and quickly formed two rows, making way for General Min Lian.

The most powerful man in Senrei barely reached Emőke's shoulder. As if to highlight this discrepancy in height, his red-golden uniform made his thin figure appear even tinier. Like other Sen soldiers, he wore a shirt with a leather front, wide pants, and a cloak that flapped behind him like a continuation of his long hair. By no means could Elemér consider someone as slender and small a hardened soldier. And, yet, Min Lian's fearsome reputation preceded him. A nightingale rather than a hawk, he moved silently and adorned a thin smile.

His grin reeked of poison. And when he spoke, his melodious voice promised nothing but doom.

"Welcome to Senrei, lady Emőke," he said, clasping his hands in front of his chest to greet her. "I hope your little excursion proved to be illuminating. At the very least, I assume you'll take no unnecessary risks in the future."

Not a single muscle in Emőke's face trembled when she replied, "I don't doubt your ability to ensure the safety of your guests, General."

"Fine words from an artist." The general clasped his hands behind his back and approached Emőke to size her up. If he noticed Elemér, he did not give him much heed, snorting and squinting at the indifferent woman in front of him. "You must be very troubled by the Moon-Marked farms that will soon render the glory of your nation irrelevant. Who knows..., your Magor hell may soon become empty."

"That is doubtful," Emőke replied, standing still. Then, looking down at Min Lian, she added, "Art cannot be stifled. Temporary suppressed - yes. Snuffed out – no."

"Ha, Xin Yuan, the leader of the Longgrasses, believed so." He paused, keen eyes darting from Elemér to Emőke. "She also believed she could save the Moon-Marked—those unnatural animals. But, you see, lady Envoy," he pointed into the distance with his manicured hand, "she won't be bothering us any longer. Perhaps, her burnt body is still swinging from the upper gates of the city. You may want to see it."

"An interesting offer, General. But I am here to represent my people. And we focus on the living." Unreadable face, no emotions, only a mask. But why did Elemér shiver?

When Xie Fenmian and Min Lian gestured for them to follow, Emőke did not hesitate, her gait confident and measured. In mere minutes, they reached the impressive round gates of the General's residence decorated with ornate heads of fire-breathing beasts. With no wish to traipse about town, Elemér breathed out in relief when Emőke entered.

Watching her green silhouette sway as it circled the artificial ponds and gardens with elaborately placed stones, Elemér pouted and shot suspicious glances at the locals. He would have given heaps of jewels to anyone who could have told him what transpired in Emőke's mind. But there was none to elucidate that mystery. Perhaps, she thought about the fate of Xin Yuan, the General's rival—the famed leader of the Longgrasses.

Having accused Xin Yuan of treason, the General revealed her attempts to free the Moon-Marked and elevate spinners above all else. That was what Elemér and every other Magor diplomat knew. With the meddling noblewoman out of the way, nobody and nothing could stop Min Lian from becoming the Chairman and usurping power.

Truth be told, Elemér didn't see anything particularly terrible in Min Lian. The General's ambition was similar to that of so many other barbarian leaders he had met. But why did Emőke care?

As they entered the reception pavilion with wide stairs and columns supporting curved roofs, Elemér stopped to flank the Envoy. If things went as they did, he could pretend to perform his duties with due diligence. His time to shine would come.

Taking out a scroll from her sleeve, Emőke offered it to the General with pointed courtesy. None of her gestures was impolite or brisk, yet, all gave off an icy vibe that chilled the incense-filled air of the pavilion. Lined with bookshelves of redwood and curiosity cabinets, the pavilion shimmered in yellow light, scattered by multiple floating lanterns. For a moment, Elemér's gaze lingered on a large pedestal with burning oils and fragrant incense sticks, but then his eyes shifted to the wide table before it.

When Emőke took a seat on a low chair next to the table, Elemér remained standing behind her. Mirroring his position, Xie Fenmian fidgeted behind Min Lian, who pretended to scan through the Trade Agreement he had enrolled in front of him. The exchange of diplomatic drabble never followed, replaced by thick silence.

"You may take your time to check the conditions we offer and deliver your comments, General," Emőke said.

She should have been there to please, to coax, to charm. Yet, all Elemér saw was the edge of green ice in her big eyes. To his shock, the general scoffed, leaned forward, and wiped the scroll away from the table. Had it not been for Xie Fenmian's quick hand, the document would have fallen to the floor like a discarded dry leaf.

"Lady Emőke," he uttered with malice, stressing each syllable of her name. Emőke did not respond. "The fate of Xin Yuan doesn't impress you, I see." Again, he gave her one of those sinister grins. This time, Emőke replied.

"No. But the threat of the Green Shadow does."

When the General's face went pale, Elemér knew Emőke had hit a nerve.

"The Green Shadow...," Min Lian hissed. "What a pompous name for someone as trivial as an outlaw, trying to help those rebels. Oh, the 'Longgrasses' believe they can 'free' the Moon-marked, destabilize the government, and let all spinners do as they please. But they can't. Just like their dead leader couldn't. They call the Green Shadow their 'vengeance', but the Shadow keeps failing." He smirked and spread his arms. "Worry not. One assassin cannot disrupt the workings of our government. One criminal can never disrupt my inevitable election. You should not be bothered, my lady."

"I am not bothered, General," Emőke replied. "Two of your people responsible for Xin Yuan's execution are dead—your second-in-command and the former Chairman's Spymaster. You're the third person directly responsible for her demise. You should be bothered. Not me." She paused. "My goal is only to make sure our people come to an agreement—regardless of the political turbulence in your country."

His eyes narrowed when he drew closer, almost bumping his forehead into Emőke's.

"There's no political turmoil in Senrei."

"As you say. You certainly know better than I do."

Their standoff ended abruptly, interrupted by the clattering of teacups. By all the Sen, Magor and other laws of hospitality, Emőke should have graciously accepted the tea. However, she did no such thing. Instead, rising to her feet, she dipped her head in acknowledgement—superficial enough not to appear scandalously rude—and delivered a cold apology.

"I'm unwell, general. The long journey must have taken a toll greater than expected. May we resume our negotiations once we've both taken time to study the terms suggested by the other side?"

"Of course," he answered through gritted teeth. He believed her as much as Elemér did—not at all. Faking exhaustion, Emőke refused the tea and left the pavilion while Elemér fell into step behind her. Once again, he watched her back, and, once again, he saw more than she would have liked to. Exhaustion, was it?

She walked with her back stick-straight. No, that was not exhaustion. What Elemér saw now was deep and unabridged hatred. She looked no more passionate than a stone. And she was, he could swear. But she did loathe with all her being. Well, at least her ability to feel something entertained him. The Envoy was not perfect.

Soon all of it would end. Soon Elemér and Emőke would reach the pavilion reserved for visitors, discover their quarters and take their leave. Dismissing him, Emőke would sit on the porch immersed in reading. And he would wait for her to leave her pavilion's wing to take a peak outside. And she would.

The parades of floating lanterns in Linsi were impressive enough to lure her out. As a talented architect with a love of colour, she would be smitten. And she would not notice Elemér behind her. He would be gone, of course, by the time she bled out. At least, that was the plan.

A gust of fresh wind caressed Elemér's ears when he finally bared his blade. It was time to put an end to it. Emőke threatened the High Architect and shared their secrets with the barbarians. She wanted to save those Moon-Marked and refused to see their danger. She needed to die.

The High Architect, lady Anikó, was right. It was not enough for Emőke to break Elemér's heart. She had to jeopardize the Domain. And such a crime could not go unpunished. Nevertheless, she would enjoy Hell, for it was empty—a far better place than their current location, where all the demons wanted her dead. What could be more hostile?

The blade glittered in his hand when Elemér sneaked up on her. An unmoving column, she stood still on the porch, staring at the twinkling stars of colourful lanterns. Mere three steps separated them, each making Elemér's heart beat faster. Now was the time. Unleashing his green threads, he was ready to cut her down before planting a dagger into her back. But she coughed, her whole body convulsing. And then, after the sounds of her muffled coughs died down, a serpent's hiss came from the darkness of peony bushes.

"I see you're enjoying the view, lady Emőke."

Out of nowhere, General Min Lian strolled towards her. Cursing the small agile man, Elemér had to retreat before drawing any unnecessary attention to himself. After all, what could the general think of his nightly escapades?