Page 26 of King Foretold (Realm of Four Kingdoms #2)

Ethan and I sit with our backs against the wooden railing of the pagoda and look out at the serene lily pond. The only thing saving me from a food coma is the pot of coffee I drank. Even so, my body feels heavy and relaxed, and I yawn into my hand.

“Are you tired?” Ethan shifts beside me. He clears the table away with a wave of his hand, and a neatly folded blanket appears in its place. “You should take a nap. I’ll watch over you.”

“What are you? My nanny?” I scowl but ruin the effect by yawning again. “I don’t need a nap.”

“Right.” He reaches for the blanket and shakes it open, then he pats his thigh.

“What?” I ask crossly, even as my traitorous cheeks heat.

“At least lie down. You don’t have to sleep. Just rest a little.” He pats his thigh again. “I’ll be your pillow.”

“You’ll be my pillow?” I know I’m just repeating what he said, but my brain is trying to shut down. I tug on my bottom lip with my teeth, then get a grip on my libido. “It’ll be like laying my head on a brick block.”

“I promise it’ll be an upgrade from those wooden blocks they use as pillows here.” His lips stretch into a lazy grin, and my pulse flutters. “Come here.”

My center turns molten at his low command, but I give him a sardonic smile. “I’ll pass.”

“You keep pushing me away.” Ethan stares out at the pond, his throat working, then he turns back to me. “I think I know why.”

How? My heart lurches as my eyes skip around the garden. How does Ethan know? I have to fix this. Oh gods. My thoughts churn aimlessly in my head.

Stop it, Sunny.

I take a calming breath. The best lie is a half truth.

“We have a history, Ethan. I’ve known you since you were a teenager, and I’ve come to think of you as a friend,” I say in an even tone. You can do this. “And I can tell you want something I can’t give you. I care about you, but if you keep doing this, we can’t even be friends.”

“Then I’ll take friendship.” Ethan’s shoulders sag on a shuddering exhale, and I’m both heartbroken and relieved. “And you don’t have to feel responsible for my feelings. That’s for me to worry about.”

“Easier said than done,” I whisper. I’m in love with him. I care more about his feelings than mine.

Suddenly, I’m dizzy with exhaustion. I slide down the wooden railing onto the floor and use my own scrawny arm as my pillow. After a forlorn sigh, Ethan covers me with the blanket—it smells like him—and carefully smooths it over my body.

I would purr if I were a cat. Even the fox in me wants to lean into his touch with a happy growl. But I hold myself stiff, and he removes his hands without lingering. Being friends is so awesome .

“Go to sleep, Sunny.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear as though he can’t help touching me. “You need to rest.”

“I want to hear your story.” I close my eyes.

“You do?” He sounds hesitant. “It’s not a happy one.”

“I want to hear your story,” I repeat. Then I blink my eyes open and rush to add, “I’m tired of being in the dark about things that everyone else knows.”

“M ... my mother was kind and full of life. When my father forced her into marriage, she didn’t give in to despair and tried to make the best of their life together. And she tried to see the good in my father, even though he stole her dream of becoming a mother.

“Then, despite the impossibility of beings from two different life sources having a child together, she conceived me.” He swallows thickly. “You said I was a miracle, but I can’t help thinking it would’ve been better if she never had me.”

“No, don’t ever think that.” I shift to look up at him. “Your mother never would’ve thought that.”

“I know. She was ecstatic when she found out she was pregnant with me.” Ethan gets a faraway look in his eyes.

“She thought she would finally have a child to love with all her heart. She thought she and the King of Mountains would be a real family at last. Happiness seemed within her grasp, but ... she couldn’t have been more wrong.

“When my mother foresaw my destiny and shared it with my father, he became obsessed with killing me. Becoming a real family was the furthest thing from his mind.” His smile isn’t a smile at all. “And you know the rest of my story.”

“No, I don’t.” My hand twitches at my side, but I don’t reach out for him. “No one does. Your story has only just begun.”

“Has it? It doesn’t feel like I’m living my own story, though.” He brushes his knuckles down my cheek. I don’t have the heart to pull away, but he catches himself and snatches his hand back. “I feel like a pawn in my grandfather’s story. A story of war and vengeance.”

“I know you don’t want to risk ruining your relationship with your grandfather, but can’t you talk to him?” How can General Bak not understand that a war against his own people would devastate his grandson? “You need to tell him you don’t want more bloodshed.”

“You think I haven’t tried? He is dead set on starting a war.

He won’t even consider another way.” Ethan straightens and looks out at the water.

“He said that it’s my duty to liberate the Kingdom of Mountains from the tyrant king, and an outright war is the only way.

He told me it’s what my mother would have wanted. ”

“That is not true, Ethan. You must know that.” I dig my nails into my palms. That manipulative old snake. General Bak has been guilt-tripping his grandson this whole time. “Your grandfather has always wanted vengeance, hasn’t he? You just provided him with a convenient excuse to exact it.”

“I ...” He wipes a hand over his face. “I don’t know what to think.”

“You know what your mother would’ve wanted.

You know her truest self. She shared her memories with you.

” I sit up and face him. “She would never have wanted you to start a war. She wouldn’t have wanted the people of the Kingdom of Mountains— her people—to suffer.

” I reach out to take his hand, then pat him awkwardly on his arm instead.

“You’re like your mother, you know. You’re kind and full of life. War is not the answer.”

“You’re right,” he says with a determined nod. “And we found a way to infiltrate—”

I’m knocked onto my back so fast and so hard that I bang my head on the wood floor of the pagoda. I have no idea what’s happening because Ethan’s huge body is sprawled over mine, shielding me from danger.

“Get off me.” I push at his shoulders to zero effect. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Stay down,” he growls.

“You fucking have to stop using your body as my personal shield.” My rant turns into a sharp yelp when he rolls both of us behind a pillar and bodily props me up against it. “I can take care of my—Ethan!”

His eyes widen as he stares down at the arrow shaft sticking out of his shoulder.

I push him against the pillar, switching places with him, and peek my head out to scan the woods for enemies.

But I draw back as an arrow whooshes a hair’s breadth away from the tip of my nose.

The assailant is an expert marksman. He is nowhere near the pagoda, but his aim is deadly.

“How are you hurt?” I crouch low in front of Ethan. I’m small enough that the pillar actually hides most of my body. “Shouldn’t that thing have bounced off you?”

“I don’t know.” He rips the arrow out with a grunt, and his wound starts closing immediately. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” If my voice rises any higher, dogs will come running.

The word of power prickles on my back, but I can’t let my bloodlust overtake my logic.

Ethan needs me. I capture his face between my hands and peer into his eyes.

“Do you have blurry vision? Are you having difficulty breathing? Does your mouth taste metallic?”

“The arrow wasn’t poisoned.” Ethan grasps my wrists and tugs my hands off his face. “I need you to stay here while I go check things out.”

“That’s precious.” I laugh in his face despite the grim circumstances. “We don’t have time to play around. I’ll take left. You take right.”

“Fine.” He scowls but knows better than to argue with me. “Ready?”

“Go.” I shoot out from behind the wooden pillar and jump over the pagoda’s railing. With a muttered curse, Ethan takes off in the other direction.

I hike up my floor-length chima as I run and inelegantly unsheathe my hwando from my thigh strap. It’s not as cool as summoning my weapon with a subtle flex of my hands, but I haven’t mastered weapon summoning yet. I couldn’t risk slashing my palms by calling my hwando blade-side down.

A flash of beige flits through the trees. Shit. Bunching up my skirt to one side, I chase the assailant. The trees are thinning—we’re in a garden, not a forest—and we’ll soon hit the streets. I can’t endanger the civilians.

In a burst of speed, I catch up to the bad guy and grab him by the scruff of his shirt. He’s dressed like a commoner, in a hanbok made of rough, unbleached fabric, but he has a quiver slung across his back and a bow in his grip. He’s our marksman.

Using both of our momenta, I spin him away from the direction of the streets and slam his back into a tree.

The male is so big that his shoulders almost span the width of the trunk, and I have to tilt my head way up to look into his eyes.

But when I do, my face goes slack with shock.

His lips tremble as tears slide down his gaunt cheeks. He’s ... afraid.

“It’s okay.” What am I saying? This bastard shot Ethan with an arrow. But when his tears come faster, all my rage drains out of me. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m s ... sorry,” he stutters, then his eyes widen when he sees something behind me.

“Who sent you?” Ethan raises the golden axe and the silver axe, ready to strike.

“Y ... you ...” The male stares at the axes and slowly shakes his head. “How ...”

“Ethan, he’s scared.” I release my hold on the male and take a step back. “I don’t think ...”

“Sunny!” Ethan pushes me behind him as the assailant draws an arrow from his quiver in a lightning-fast move.