Page 36

TIYUNG

CITY OF TROVE, YUSAN

I ’ve taken two baths since arriving in Trove, but I’m convinced I still have an odor. I sniff, trying to discreetly smell myself, but it’s impossible to tell over the scent of food in this crowded tavern.

Hana sits across from me in the booth, looking lovely, as always.

She sips her ale as I demolish a second lamb shank with vegetable stir fry and rice.

I hunch over my meal like someone will try to steal my plate.

I hope one day this ravenous hunger fades, but I doubt it will.

The same way I still need to sleep with a fire and the oil lamps lit.

Hana looks at me over the rim of her glass. “You’re going to choke yourself before your father gets the opportunity.”

I stop cutting into the shank. “Very funny.”

Unsurprisingly, the poison maiden has executioner humor. But between burning Sora’s indenture and essentially faking my death, this joke hits a little close to home. My father might be happy to see me or furious. Or both. And he’s certainly not above throttling me.

Her lips turn up in a smile as she relaxes against the wooden booth. We are warm and dry after changing into fresh clothes. I threw out my old ones as soon as we checked in. I’ll need another cloak before we leave. It’s warmer, this close to Qali, but it’s still raining.

I’m nearly through with my second plate when I realize Hana hasn’t spoken in a couple of minutes. I find her staring off.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

She sighs. “Sora.”

It’s a strange thing to have in common—being in love with the same woman. But there’s no better commonality to have binding you than love. I’ve moved past my jealousy, I think. At my core, I truly want Sora to be happy, whether that’s with me, Hana, or anyone else.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

“She’ll be all right,” I say. “She’s a survivor, like you.”

Hana shifts in her seat, staring at me. She eyes me for so long, I begin to worry that I have food on my face or that I do, in fact, smell.

“I will admit,” she says, “I’ve misjudged you.”

“Join the club. They have swords.” I finish my last bite.

She smiles. “I’m…sorry.”

I put my fork down and wipe my mouth with a rough napkin, then toss it to the side. “Hana, there is absolutely nothing you need to apologize for.”

She looks to the side. “I don’t know if that’s true. This time tomorrow, you’ll reach Qali.”

She sounds a little off, and I suppose I am, too. I want to reach the palace, and yet a part of me would rather stay here and avoid the future.

We go our separate ways tomorrow. Hana can’t risk Seok’s wrath—therefore, I will have to go into Qali alone while she flees to Tamneki.

From there, she’ll try to find Sora and the others.

That’s been the plan since we came back to Yusan.

We’re just gloomy about it now. Maybe it’s the weight of knowing that we probably won’t see each other again.

My father has too many enemies who’d like me dead, and she is one double-agent spy against the world.

With a war of the realms at our doorstep, many people will die, including one or both of us.

But there’s Sora. And for Sora, we’ll try.

A fiddler and two other musicians start playing.

He’s actually quite good. My parents used to have musicians and balls in Gain, but that stopped fifteen years ago after an assassination attempt on my father’s life.

It was my “friend’s” father who stabbed him in the collarbone, just missing his neck.

The only reason he missed was because I’d screamed and Seok had turned to look at me at the last second.

After that, there were no balls, no friends. Instead, Seok began searching for girls to become poisoners. My father became who he felt he needed to be. I’ve survived by being his opposite.

Tables are moved out of the way, and people clap and begin to dance as the fiddler plays a familiar tune. I drum my fingers on the sticky table, tapping along to the beat.

“Do you dance, Tiyung?” Hana asks.

I raise my eyebrows so fast, my face hurts. “Are you asking me to dance with you?”

“No, just making conversation. I wouldn’t dare try to pull you away from licking your plate.”

I laugh and wipe my mouth again. This is too heavy a night, too somber for dancing. Which is exactly why I slide out from the booth and stand. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

She smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

I refuse to waste our final moments in dread.

Hana is, of course, a great dancer. I spin her as I put a hand behind my back, in the normal pose for gentlemen.

She twirls, and then I take her arm and catch her waist. She links her arm in mine as we spin through the crowd.

It isn’t long before people move to the side to clap and watch us.

Her footwork is impeccable as she floats, her dress billowing.

“Madame Iseul taught you?” I ask.

I pick her up by the waist as she jumps, and then I place her back down. It’s far more graceful than when I tried to save her.

She nods. “Where did you learn? You’re better than expected.”

“Tutors and my mother. The nobility must dance at balls, especially heirs,” I say. “It’s a great slight if you don’t.”

“Ah yes, your friends’ parties,” she says.

“I don’t have any friends,” I say. “Except for Sora and the others. And you.”

She looks away for a moment. “I guess we’ll see.”

I’m not sure if she means her, Sora, or anyone else, but it has the same feeling of hitting a false note, an off moment that sours the experience.

The song ends, and I kiss her hand as is customary, but there’s a shift between us.

All that’s left is a sneaking suspicion that I’m missing something important.