Page 50 of King Foretold (Realm of Four Kingdoms #2)

I nearly whimper with relief. Our plan would never work if Shim Duna’s deranged rant about the king’s scar had been a lie. If the king still had the power of invincibility, my acupuncture needles wouldn’t so much as prick his skin.

But cold sweat beads on my forehead as I realize a flaw to our plan.

Every subject in the Kingdom of Mountains must know that their kings have the power of invincibility.

The physician and his assistant are not supposed to know that the tyrant’s skin can be pierced.

If we offer him acupuncture, he will suspect us right away.

“This l ... lowly one would not d ... dare,” Jihun stutters in feigned fear as he places the tips of his fingers on the king’s pulse point. I try to catch his eyes, but he has his head angled away from me.

“Tell me, physician,” the king drawls, even though there’s desperation in his eyes. “What is it that ails me?”

The king already knows he isn’t ill. He knows his power of invincibility is gone, but he doesn’t want to accept it.

So he will kill Jihun and me—or rather the physician and his assistant—for being unable to cure him, just to have someone to blame and punish for his loss.

The tyrant is killing his own subjects to vent his fear and frustration. He is as cruel as he is cowardly.

My hands fist beneath my apron. I can’t let him get away with it. I have to figure out a way to paralyze him without raising his suspicions. I won’t give up without trying. For Ethan. For the people of the Kingdom of Mountains.

“Your life force is weary, Your Majesty. You have given too much of yourself to the service of your people,” Jihun says in a simpering tone.

He and I decided beforehand to tell the king that his gi needs strengthening.

That generic yet popular diagnosis had always appeased the hypochondriacs in my old village.

“We are humbled and grateful for your sacrifice, but this lowly one implores you to think of your health.”

The king harrumphs, even though he is obviously pleased by the flattery.

“My assistant—” Jihun continues, and I burst into tears, clapping a hand over my mouth to quiet my sobs.

“If only His Majesty weren’t as powerful as the gods ...” I stop to take a shuddering breath, risking the barest flicker of a gaze toward Jihun. “If only he could receive acupuncture like the rest of us ...”

“Silence, you insolent girl.” Jihun plays along with my act, a slight tilt of his head the only indication of his surprise. I hope he understands why I’m doing this. “You dare speak in the presence of the king?”

“Let the girl speak.” A greedy kind of hope flashes in the king’s eyes.

“This lowly girl has restored the life force of many commoners through acupuncture, Your Majesty.” I dip my head and speak in a trembling voice.

“I feel as though the heavens are collapsing at the thought that you, whose life is worth a million of ours, cannot receive the ministrations which may heal your gi.”

“You dare presume to understand my powers?” the king blusters. “I should have your head.”

“Please forgive the foolish girl, Your Majesty.” Jihun bows with his forehead pressed against the floor.

I bow down as well, holding my breath. I took a gamble, hoping to tap into the king’s desperation. I prepare for the tyrant to call for his royal guards to execute us on the spot, but I pray that he takes the bait.

“I can withdraw my invincibility at will,” the king lies smoothly, and my body goes limp with relief. “If the girl is as good as she claims, I will permit her to administer acupuncture on me.”

It worked. Thank gods.

“Gratitude fills this lowly one to the brim,” Jihun intones, raising his head at last. “This uinyeo has been gifted with the most sensitive fingertips of her generation. The gods must have bestowed such a talent on this common girl so that she may be of use to you. It would be her greatest honor to administer acupuncture on you, Your Majesty.”

“She would normally lose her lowborn hands if she touched the king’s body.” The tyrant wants to believe Jihun. He wants to believe that I can restore his magic. “But, perhaps, I will let her keep them if she can cure me.”

“Your generosity and mercy know no bounds, Your Majesty,” Jihun says. “Might this lowly one dare ask the king to lie down on his sleeping mat?”

Arching a condescending brow at Jihun, the king walks over to the sleeping alcove, then lies down on his mat. He sighs ponderously and closes his eyes, as though he cannot bear to look at our peasant faces any longer. “I presume you will ask to bare my chest. Do as you must.”

“You are as wise as you are merciful.” Jihun kneels near the king’s head with my unnecessary guidance, and I kneel directly in front of the king’s torso. “May she proceed?”

“The faster this ordeal is over with, the better.” The King of Mountains smirks, as though he is impressed by his own munificence.

We have him. I carefully draw apart his robe and shirt, my blood pounding in my ears. I withdraw an acupuncture box from my sleeve and open it to reveal a row of silver needles. We’re so close.

Please let this work.

Exhaling quietly, I press the first needle into the pressure point on the side of his neck.

Just three more. My hand trembles lightly as I insert the next needle below his right clavicle, then another one over his heart.

My breath quickens. Once I place a needle in the last pressure point, the king will be paralyzed.

Just one more.

I poise my needle over his solar plexus and fight to steady my hand.

I can’t miss the pressure point. I lower the needle, but before the tip can pierce his skin, the king’s hand shoots out and grabs my wrist in a punishing grip.

I only have time to gasp before his other hand is pressing a sharp knife against my throat.

Jihun lurches forward, and I feel the rush of wind as his wings burst open.

“Steady, seonnam,” the king croons. “I don’t want to slit her pretty throat ... yet. Unless you leave me no choice.”

Jihun freezes, even as his lips pull back in a snarl. “Let her go.”

“I wasn’t entirely certain what she meant to do until she embedded the third needle over my heart.

Why would you want to paralyze me, little girl?

” The king presses the tip of his knife into my skin, and warm blood trickles down my throat.

A look of surprises ripples across his face as he gingerly sniffs at my cut.

“A gumiho ? I am both intrigued and disgusted. Whatever do you want with me, beast?”

The king licks his lips and twists the knife against my throat, drawing more blood without pushing it in any deeper.

He smiles when I hiss. Fuck. I hate that I gave him the satisfaction.

I have to stop him. I don’t want Ethan to kill his father.

But I can’t get out of the king’s grasp before he opens up my carotid artery. I’ll be dead in fifteen seconds.

“Leave her alo—” Jihun’s roar is drowned out when the doors to the king’s chambers rip off their hinges and crash into the room.

“Sunny,” Ethan shouts as he runs toward me.

“Ethan, don’t ...” The knife presses deeper into my throat, cutting off my words.

“Stop where you are,” the king shrieks, fear and confusion in his eyes. “Or she will be dead before you reach her.”

Ethan jerks to a stop, his face contorted in fury. Then he raises his arm from across the room and holds his palm out toward his father. “I will end you.”

From the corner of my eye, I glimpse the king raising his own hand, and I lunge to stop him.

The next second, a fiery burst of energy skims over my head and rams into the tyrant’s chest. I stay ducked low to the ground as the king is thrown into the air and slammed against the back wall.

He grunts as he drops to the floor with a thud, his knife rolling out of his limp grasp.

I clap my hand against my neck to stanch the flow of blood.

The king had the wherewithal to slice the side of my throat as he was thrown back.

The cut isn’t deep, but it’s not a papercut either.

Jihun’s nostrils flare with rage when he sees blood seeping through my fingers.

He closes the short distance between us and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

I glare at him to tell him to keep his mouth shut. If Ethan sees that I’m hurt, he is likely to lose his shit even more. Fortunately, he still stands halfway across the room, distracted by the sight of his father lying on the floor.

The King of Mountains struggles to his knees and stares at his son, tears flooding his eyes. Ethan comes to stand over Jihun and me, but his gaze stays glued to his father. I look at Jihun, and he nods. The king’s tears look genuine, but we can’t let our guards down.

“You look like her,” the king whispers before his face crumples on a sob. “My s ... son.”

Ethan’s eyes soften for a split second before the Prince of Mountains takes command. “Do not speak of my mother, tyrant.”

“I loved her.” He means it. The king believes that he loved the Queen of Mountains.

“Why do I find it hard to believe that the male who murdered my mother loved her?” Ethan snarls but walks up to his father as though drawn to him despite himself.

“Son.” The king holds out a trembling hand. “Please ...”

“‘Please’ what?” Ethan grabs the king by his lapels and raises him to his feet. Then he shoves him in the chest, sending him stumbling back against the wall. And his confusion, fury, and desperation distill into a single word. “ What? ”

“Please don’t make me”—the king’s face morphs into an ugly mask of hate as he lunges for Ethan—“ kill you .”

Shock makes me slow to react, and I see the glint of metal too late. The bastard made a show of groveling on the floor to retrieve his knife. And suddenly, I know with chilling certainty that the king’s blade is forged with Dangun’s tombstone—a knife capable of killing his son.

Jihun and I rush toward Ethan, but Jang Sanggung somehow reaches him before us and throws herself in front of the king’s knife. She gasps as the blade sinks into her stomach.

“No.” Ethan catches her before she falls to her knees and lowers her to the ground. “Please no.”

“You stupid bitch,” the king screeches, backing away from them. “Guards. Come protect your king, you worthless bastards.”

“Enough.” Ethan doesn’t raise his voice, but it booms through the chambers and smothers the king’s shrill outburst. With one arm holding the wounded sanggung against him, he aims his palm toward his father and blasts a jet of tightly coiled magic from his hand.

Ethan caught him unawares earlier, but the king is prepared for him this time.

He only stumbles back two steps before he regains his footing and pushes out both palms to counter the attack.

Ethan grunts as the force of the king’s magic shoves his shoulder back, but he manages to keep his arm outstretched.

Gritting his teeth, Ethan sends another pulse of magic out of his palm.

The king staggers but holds his ground. The open flaps of his shirt whip around him, drawing my eyes to his torso.

The needles I placed in him still protrude from his chest and the side of his neck.

I spin toward the doorless entrance as the king’s royal guards rush into the chambers with their swords drawn.

“Stand down, guards.” Jihun steps in front of them and summons his longsword. “You have no reason to die tonight.”

But the royal guards seem to have a death wish and rush the formidable suhoshin with a battle cry. With a resigned sigh, Jihun blocks and parries their strikes with unhurried swings of his sword, making no offensive moves of his own.

Ethan’s shoulders are squared again, but his extended arm is trembling under the strain of battle. The king grits his teeth to hold himself steady, but he won’t be able to last much longer either. Even so, Ethan can’t win this battle with Jang Sanggung in one arm.

My hand is slick with my blood, but the wound has already stopped bleeding.

I hastily wipe my palm and fingers on my apron and reach for my acupuncture box.

Jihun still holds off the royal guards without attacking them, but his movements are sharper, more focused, as they advance on him.

Trusting he has the situation under control, I withdraw a needle and grip it tightly between my thumb and index finger.

I focus my eyes on the magic pulsating between the King of Mountains and Ethan.

Their life forces extend forward and outward, creating a long cylindrical stream of power between them.

The green of the king’s gi and the silver-green swirl of Ethan’s gi clash evenly at the middle, where fiery bursts of magic erupt like crashing waves.

I definitely do not want to find out what happens if I so much as brush against such powerful magic. But my stomach lurches when the king launches a surge of power at his son and Ethan’s silver-and-green gi loses half the ground.

I have to get the last needle into the king’s solar plexus and paralyze him.

The king will see me coming. It can’t be helped.

I just have to be fast—so fast that the king won’t get a chance to react and aim one of his hands at me.

But if he does, then that would divert some of his power toward me and Ethan can overtake him.

It’s basically a win-win situation, except the second win will cost me my life. Ethan will live, though.

I shift into a runner’s crouch, wishing I could take my gumiho form. I’m so much faster in that body. Too bad I need opposable thumbs for acupuncture. There’s no time to overthink it. Sorry, Captain Seo. I have to act, not think.

And I take off toward the King of Mountains.