"Watch," Tianlong said to him then, mildly, and began to undress.
"Watch what. Watch, no. NO. Whatever you are about to do, do not do it in front of my sister, do not do it in front of me, do not..."
But Xiaoyue was already giggling and Yanshi was already growling low in her throat like a warning and a purr at once, and Ling Xue had folded her hands and turned her serene face toward it with the terrible tolerance of a principal wife at a court function, and Tianlong drew the wild woman to him by the hip.
"This is a message," Tianlong said, to the man in the belt, "for a king. Watch it well, so you can repeat it accurately."
He took Yanshi facing the tree.
Deliberately. Her back to his chest, her front to the captured brother, both hands stripping her leaf-wrap away with ceremonial slowness, baring her body to the morning and the enemy in the same unhurried gesture that a herald unfolds a banner. Her heavy chest spilled free.
