Page 37

Rui

The Dokkaebi emperor dismisses Miyoung with a curt wave of the hand and grimaces as a familiar panic rises up within him. The extraction failed. Shit. Shit .

But there is no time for this panic, and he shoves it down as much as he can manage before departing Gyeulcheon for Sanyeongto in a flurry of darkness. He knows it will consume him later in a vicious attack, but for now, he must move.

Rui steps onto the Beast Wall, that mammoth construction of towering granite. The soldiers stationed on the southern edge, where he’s appeared, tense in surprise but quickly bow respectfully. He ignores them, striding to the edge, bracing his hands on the cold stone, leaning forward and squinting into the distance. The surrounding area, although not the dangerous density of the Wyusan Wilderness—that feral stretch of land—is still forested, and he cannot yet see the Prophecy and her captive. But she has him, and he has Iseul, so there is an opportunity for an exchange. Yet do the benefits outweigh the costs? Rui forces himself to think as a strategist, as a practitioner of wartime logic.

Kim Chan. Supreme Commander of the Gyeulcheon Army. Unstable. Grieving. Rash. Went rogue. Disregarded Rui’s orders. Likely to do so again.

Song Iseul. The last Gumiho. Powerful. Dangerous. Clever. The Prophecy’s most cherished weapon. Responsible for the lives of hundreds of Dokkaebi and human soldiers.

If things were different, he would consult Kang. But Kang, Rui thinks with a bitter sneer, can no longer be trusted . He has muzzled him rather than killed him, only if to utilize the benefits of his healing expertise.

Rui takes a look around him. The troops, now under his direct command, have not faltered as he feared with Chan’s capture. Rui is just as skilled at militaristic stratagems as Chan, and he has prepared these troops well for the battle that encroaches on their doorstep. Could he count on Chan to obey Rui’s orders regarding the Prophecy? He already failed to do so once.

Heart pounding, Rui scrubs at his bloodshot eyes. Can he really refuse this trade? Chan, his friend, his brother in all but blood. Can he refuse him?

The answer is not comforting. Yes . Rui can—and he will. Giving Iseul to the Prophecy could very well seal their fates. No matter his personal feelings, Rui cannot do so for one Dokkaebi who has a tendency to disregard orders and neglect his duties.

He is not so foolish as to think he can trick the Prophecy on this, grab Chan while retaining Iseul. Not when deceiving her is nearly impossible, thanks to this damned red thread. He has only managed to lie to her once: inventing the story about the golden door and the rabbit, rather than admitting the truth—that Lina laid behind. Yet he is not so certain she believed him.

Rui swallows hard, hating himself, knowing it is likely that he has sealed Chan’s fate.

He sends a missive, a piece of parchment in the beak of a Sanyeongto general’s personal raven. General Lee is a nervous-looking man who smells of sweat and wartime terror. Rui ignores it as he dips a quill into ink. Only one word needs to be used, really.

With a swoop of fine calligraphy, Haneul Rui writes the word No.