Page 23

Rui

Rui pants through his teeth as Kang slathers his wound in some foul-smelling paste that brings with it a stinging sensation worse than a dozen wasps. They are once again in Gyeulcheon, in Kang’s study. Seojin grabs fresh bandages from where they are stored in one of Kang’s many drawers.

“This complicates matters,” says Kang. The shadows under his eerily wise eyes are deeper than usual.

“What uncanny wisdom you possess, Kang,” snaps Rui, arching a brow in an expression that is half droll, half furious. “I hadn’t realized. Thank you so much for bringing this to my attention.”

“The red thread of fate between the two of you has grown stronger.” Kang is focusing on the deep gouge in Rui’s shoulder. His advisor has tried to stitch the flesh closed, but each time, he fails. Rui has the terrible feeling that it will not heal until the original wound, on the Prophecy, heals. All Kang can do for now is staunch the bleeding. “Any injury she receives, you will receive. And I’m assuming it also goes the other way, as well.”

Rui hisses through his teeth as Seojin gently begins to wrap the cloth around his shoulder. He left Lina reluctantly only a half hour ago when the pain of this wound jerked him out of his trance.

His advisor does not know that the true Lina still exists, imprisoned within the mind. Rui has not been able to tell him, for fear that the Prophecy is listening. It seems as if the Prophecy does not know he has found his Lina, and he shudders to think what would happen if the secret is revealed too soon. Some instinct, deep inside of him—perhaps born by the soul-stitching itself—warns him that the safest option is to keep quiet.

For he is certain that the imprisoned Lina is his soul-stitched in love, while he is soul-stitched to the Prophecy in hatred. And if he wants to reclaim his love, he must play this game very carefully indeed.

“I’m assuming,” Rui drawls as Seojin finishes his work, “that now, if one of us dies, we both die.”

“You would likely be correct in that assumption,” Kang replies quietly.

Interesting.

This, then, is what the Dalgyal Gwisin heralds.

Rui can use this to his advantage—for now. When the troops are alerted to this, they will be more hesitant to kill Lina’s body. And perhaps it will offer an excuse to his confused soldiers as to why he ordered the Prophecy to be taken alive, rather than killed, at the Battle of Seocheonkkotbat. If they play it right, this could very well work in his favor. Not to mention, he thinks wryly, that the Prophecy very much does not want to die. Once she learns of this, she will be less thirsty for Rui’s death. The Prophecy cannot kill him without killing itself. He doesn’t quite feel like dying just yet, either, so this is not an entirely unwelcome development.

Rui watches as Kang scans his face warily, but his advisor apparently chooses to hold his tongue. If he suspects the direction in which Rui’s mind has strayed, knows that Rui has always been loath to strike the killing blow toward the woman he loves, he does not give anything away. Kang clears his throat.

“I will consult the books tonight,” he says quietly. “Perhaps there is a way to undo this linking.”

Perhaps. Likely not. “Alert the troops,” Rui commands, standing from the chair and reaching for his tunic. “And bear this warning: some of them may wish to end this war by murdering me, and by extension, the Prophecy.” He attempts his old smile, that wicked, taunting grin, but it feels stiff on his face. “And let the soldiers know that if any of them are struck by that fine idea, that I will smite them down. There is—there is much to do before I die.” The words feel odd on his tongue, as if they’re not quite real. The image of the Dalgyal Gwisin flashes through his mind; he forces it away.

Kang hesitates.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” Rui drawls with the distinct feeling that he knows precisely what the advisor is suggesting.

“One sacrifice,” the advisor replies carefully, sweat beading on his brow underneath the intensity of the emperor’s stare, “could…could save many .”

Rui stares flatly at Kang and considers, in great detail, the ramifications of slamming the advisor’s self-righteous face down onto the surface of his herb-strewn table. One, Kang would be dazed, and the wounded need him. Two, his forehead would crush the herbs, and it would be a pitiful waste of resources. “No,” Rui snaps coldly. “And if you try to instigate my untimely demise, Kang, I assure you that yours will come much faster. We will do our best to stop this Prophecy and win this war before I resort to my death.”

He will stand under the moonlight with Lina again. He will fight by her side again. He will.

Kang swallows hard. “Of course,” he says hoarsely. “I understand it.”

“Understanding it is not enough.” The emperor holds his gaze for a moment longer. “See that you remember it.”

Kang nods, and as the emperor leaves, he does not know that his advisor’s eyes stray thoughtfully to the herbs on his table.