Page 27

CHAPTER 27

REN

The Under World

THE ROOM THEY’D pitched her into was dark. Darker than the Under World was, even at night. She didn’t know where she was or how far she’d traveled. They’d at least had the courtesy to remove the bag over her head. Holding her hands out before her, she rose to her feet. She’d done tricks blindfolded before; it wasn’t not seeing that frightened her, it was that she didn’t know what sort of room they’d tossed her into.

Her stomach connected with a low table. Grunting in pain, she fumbled her hands across its surface, knocking over an object. A candle. She swept her hands wide and found matches. Righting the candle, she grabbed the matches and lit one, bringing the flame to the wick.

The light of the candle slowly illuminated the space, enough that she could see she was in a study. A great desk sat against the far wall, adorned with thick candleholders and several scrolls stacked on a gilded tray. A curved sword was displayed on the desk, but it looked heavy, and she didn’t think she could wield it effectively.

To the right of the desk was a bookcase. It was magnificent, taking up the entirety of the wall. The boxlike shelves were of varying sizes; some were tall and held neatly stacked side-stitched books and scrolls, others short and squat, presenting only a single decorative object. She found herself moving closer to the shelves, peering at each object. There were celadon vases and calligraphy sets, game boards, ink paintings, and miniature carvings of turtles and other animals.

A bead of hot wax slipped onto her skin. She flinched but didn’t drop the candle. She needed to focus. There must be something here that hinted to the Sareniyan captain’s identity and what he wanted with her.

Perhaps he wished to undermine the general, or—she thought bitterly—present her to him to gain favor.

She was surprised, however, that he’d left her in his study, assuming this study belonged to him. The room felt deeply personal, especially the bookcase. Peering at the contents was like having a glimpse into his mind.

Curious, she placed the candle onto the shelf to reach for the top book on a stack of them. After reading a few pages, she realized it wasn’t a ledger or a recounting of military exploits, but a storybook.

Was that why he’d been surprised when she’d called him a storyteller? Not because he liked to tell stories, but because he liked to read them?

She noticed that the bottommost cabinet was slightly ajar. Poking her finger through the circular brass handle, she drew it open. Inside was a single item—a wooden jewelry box.

It was locked, and so she slipped a pin from her hair, inserting it into the lock and jiggling it around until she heard a distinct click.

As she lifted the lid, a soft white light filtered out, illuminating the room more brightly than the candle ever could.

Inside, placed carefully on a bed of red silk, was a feather.

Her heart started to race as she stared at it, uncomprehending. It was hers. The same feather she’d found on her pillow the morning of the Festival of Light. Ten years had passed, but it didn’t matter—she would have recognized it at any time, any place. The feather was long, almost the length of her forearm. Like mithril, it was luminescent, appearing to glow from within. But more than all those things, she could hear it singing, a low, soft hum.

She didn’t understand. She’d dropped the feather in the forest, believed it to be lost. What was it doing here ? And why did he have it?

Slowly, she lifted her hand, her fingers grasping the stem.

A hand snatched her wrist back.

“What are you doing?” the captain snarled.

She tried to pull away, but he kept her in a tight hold. She’d been so enraptured by the feather, she hadn’t noticed his entrance. Light flooded the room from the open door, cutting a path that ended where he stood, his face in shadow.

“Why do you have this?” Ren demanded. The feather glowed between them, pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “It belongs to me.”

The captain’s grip on her wrist tightened. His eyes were like black pools, without light, except for when he shifted his gaze to the feather, and then she could see its reflection there, like a snowflake in winter. “It’s mine .”

Ren realized the feather meant something to him. But why? And how did it come into his possession?

She let go of it, forcing him to drop her wrist. He snatched the feather from the air, cradling it as if it were as fragile as a butterfly’s wing, placed it back into the box. He closed the lid, sealing off the light. When he turned to her, his face was devoid of expression.

“You’re leaving in the next hour,” he said.

Ren gaped at him. “What?”

“A train will take you south to the sea, where you’ll cross to the Tama Isles on a boat. My lieutenant, Sana, will escort you.”

“I’m not leaving.” She had to get to the mithril mines, where the symbol of the black wing led. She and Sunho had promised to find both his brother and the cure for Little Uncle. Together.

An odd look came over the captain’s face, as if he were piecing a thought together.

“At the teahouse,” he said slowly, “you looked comfortable, not like someone who’d been forced to stay there against her will. You chose to come to the Under World, didn’t you? Even knowing there were mercenaries sent from here to kill you. Why?”

“My uncle—”

“You don’t have an—”

“I do,” she interjected fiercely. Sareniya might not have had uncles—but Ren did. “He was attacked by a demon from the Under World. Afterward, he developed an illness. I came to find an antidote to the poison in his blood.”

“A demon…” For the first time since she’d met him, the captain appeared uncertain, but then he shook his head. “What was your plan? Or did you even have one?”

“I had a plan! Sunho and I—” She bit off her words. Why was she telling him ?

“Sunho.” The captain had gone still. “The swordsman. So he survived after all.”

“He told me why he took the job,” Ren accused, “that you held knowledge of his brother over his head. I didn’t think anyone could be so cruel.”

“He must not care for his brother all that much if he forsook him for you .”

“He didn’t forsake him!” Ren shouted, furious on Sunho’s behalf. “His brother is waiting for him. Once he remembers—”

The captain’s eyes widened. “You’re healing him, aren’t you? He doesn’t need the knowledge I have, not if you can give him back his memories.”

Now it was her turn to stare at him in surprise. “What do you know about my powers? Who are you?”

He looked away. “I misspoke.”

When she’d found Sunho in the reed field, she’d healed his wound, but that was because it had been physical. His mind wasn’t something she could touch. But if there was a way to restore his memories… She grabbed the captain’s arm. “What do you know? Tell me.”

He winced, though she hadn’t grabbed him hard. “You’re dangerous,” he said, stepping back. “Not just to yourself, but to the peace of both worlds. As long as you exist, there will be those who wish to use you.”

“Like you? Isn’t that why you were looking for me?”

He didn’t answer; he gave no reaction at all, his umber eyes almost like glass. There was something familiar about his eyes.

As she stared at him, a memory probed from the back of her mind—a boy sitting beneath a tree, his nose in a book…

“Who are you?” Ren whispered.

“Captain!” They both turned toward the door. It was the woman from the noodle restaurant, Sana. His lieutenant.

She was panting, as if she’d run a great distance. “Your father’s soldiers were spotted in the Under World. They’re on their way here.”

Ren frowned. His father?

“You’re leaving,” the captain said, pushing her forward. “ Now. ”

“No!” Whoever he was, she didn’t trust him. He wanted to control her life. Not like Sunho, who listened to her, who gave her choices.

The woman had backed out of the doorway to let them pass. Ren dashed forward and swiped the dagger strapped to her waist. She sprinted into a great atrium, the pale marble floors illuminated by a lone skylight, where light from the lanterns surrounding the military compound shone through. She was halfway across when the captain grabbed her arm, twisting her around. She raised the dagger to his neck.

“Captain!” Sana shouted.

“Stay back!” he said, holding out his hand to stop her.

With the other, he grabbed Ren’s wrist. He didn’t force her to pull the dagger away but pressed down upon her hand so that the blade broke his skin. “Do it,” he said. When she hesitated, his eyes darkened. In one swift motion, he drew the sword at his waist and brought it down across her shoulder. She raised the dagger, managing to block him.

He pressed forward, bearing down on her as she dropped to one knee.

She gasped, tears pricking her eyes, as her blade began to dig into her own shoulder, pinned beneath his sword. Warmth spread across her back as blood started to drench the fabric.

“You won’t k-kill me,” she said, though she wasn’t certain. He’d attacked her at full force. If she hadn’t raised the dagger, he would have. “Why would you put so much effort into saving me only to kill me?”

“If you don’t think I’d kill you,” he said, “then you don’t know me at all.”

Her arms shook from the weight of his sword. “I—” She faltered, the bite of the blade digging deeper into her shoulder.

Like the moon emerging from behind clouds, the memory that had been hidden from her revealed itself.

She was running across a meadow, the flowers tickling her ankles. He was there, waiting for her. Beneath the zelkova tree, like he promised. Jaeil. He was reading a book. It was his favorite thing in all the world. Sometimes he would read to her, while she weaved crowns from flowers. But more often, he would ignore her. This upset her. She wanted him to look up from his book. She wanted him to look at her . She had almost reached him when she tripped.

Before she could fall flat on her face, she felt arms circle around her.

“Are you all right?” Jaeil’s voice was anxious.

That’s when she saw it, his book, stuck in the mud. He’d dropped it to catch her.

She was slammed back into the present.

“Jaeil,” she gasped.

The captain’s eyes widened, and the pressure on her shoulder lessened.

Above them, the skylight shattered.

Sunho dropped through, his sword already drawn. Jaeil twisted around in time to block a blow that made them both go skidding across the floor.

Ren heard Sana curse, turning in time to catch the woman slipping a dagger from a holster. She flung it.

“Sunho!” Ren screamed.

Sunho jumped back and the dagger whizzed by, clattering against the floor.

He bore new bruises since Ren had last seen him. Her heart filled with anguish, then rage, that anyone should hurt him.

His gaze dropped to her shoulder where her wound was bleeding freely now. Something seemed to overtake him; his eyes flashed blue. He rushed at Jaeil with a roar. Their swords rang out as they clashed together.

“Sunho,” Jaeil said, and there was a laugh caught in his throat. “You found the girl… but not for me.”

Jaeil fought with a viciousness that frightened her, holding Sunho back with his sword while whipping out a dagger in his other hand.

“Watch out!” Ren screamed as he sliced at Sunho’s chest.

Jaeil’s eyes flitted to her. In his distraction, Sunho kneed him in the stomach. Before he could stand, Sunho’s sword was at his throat.

Jaeil spit blood onto the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Ren expected him to make threats, as he’d done before, but his expression was serious as he gazed up at Sunho.

“She’s in danger,” he said, his voice intense. “As we speak, the general’s soldiers are on their way to this base. I don’t know how they knew she was here; he must have been tracking me. He means to kill her in front of the entirety of the army, claiming she’s an imposter, to send a message to the nobles and any who oppose him that the time of the celestials is over. That there will be a new world order, with him as ruler.”

Jaeil turned his gaze to Ren. “You’re the greatest threat to his goal. If you don’t leave the Under World tonight, he will kill you.”

Ren felt as if she was being torn in three different directions, between saving Little Uncle, saving herself, or saving the world.

But she knew which of the threads was strongest—it had been strongest from the beginning.

“I didn’t make this long journey just to run away.”

A rope dropped through the shattered skylight. Above, she could make out the shape of a vessel, hovering in the air. It was the small aircraft, the vague shape of Yurhee at the helm.

Sunho removed his sword from beneath Jaeil’s throat, placing his boot through a loop in the rope. Grabbing on to it with one hand, he held his other out to Ren.

She went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He tugged the rope, and it began to ascend.

Ren looked one last time at Jaeil, wondering if he’d move to stop them. His soldiers swarmed into the room, surrounding him, awaiting orders, but he remained standing, cradling his arm, his gaze fixed upon her.

She turned away, pressing her face into Sunho’s shoulder as they were pulled from the compound and into the sky.