Page 52

SORA

ROSE PALACE, GAYA

A eri and Royo rush out of the kitchen in the least subtle way possible, and that leaves me alone with Tiyung.

I haven’t even been able to process the fact that he’s standing in front of me.

Or that he’s here at all. He died in Idle Prison, and I had accepted that.

Well, not entirely, but I knew it as a fact.

The same way I knew Hana was dead. And Daysum. The same way I knew my parents sold us.

I press my hand to my forehead. I don’t even know what’s real anymore.

“Are you actually here?” I ask.

“I am, Sora.” He takes a step closer to me, and I lean away. He reaches his hands out but keeps his distance, which is good. I don’t think I could handle him touching me right now.

“I don’t understand,” I say.

He told us the whole story in the living room, and everything made sense, but it all still feels like a fever dream. Like the vivid dreams Daysum had as a child.

And now I wonder: Is she even dead? I want to hope she isn’t, but in my heart, I know she is.

The kitchen staff busies themselves cleaning up the blood.

Within moments, it’s clear we’re in the way, and Tiyung gestures for me to follow him out.

We leave the kitchens and the servant quarters and enter the main palace.

This place is unlike anywhere I’ve been before, with the outside blended inside from the cool stone walls to the fragrant flowers.

It’s both grand and earthy. Undoubtedly the home of a god, yet natural.

Tiyung tries the first door we come across, and it opens to a study.

On second thought, it’s not a study but a war room.

The main feature is an enormous central table.

Tiyung lights the lamps because it’s pretty dim in the green-painted room, even with the rays from the sunset streaking in through the windows.

On the table, there’s a map of the island with figurines of soldiers and arms. Most of the soldiers are off the island, sent to Khitan.

A map of the four realms occupies the entire western wall.

Books and scrolls line the eastern wall, and there is a bureau with ten drawers that I imagine are also full of strategic maps.

But I don’t care about strategy at the moment. I stare at Tiyung from across the war table. He seems different, but I can’t put my finger on how. His eyes are the same shade of blue, his black hair is short the way it was, but his air, his manner is different.

Yet I know it’s him standing in front of me. First Hana, and now him.

“I’m sorry,” I say, lowering my chin. “This is a lot.”

He nods, looking a little disappointed, but then he clears the expression. “It is, Sora. Today has been a great shock for you. I was so excited to see you that I hadn’t considered what you would feel on seeing both of us again. But I had to find you. You are what saved me in prison.”

“Me?” I ask.

He slips a card out of his pocket. It’s dirty, and the paper has been bent and wrinkled dozens of times, but I know my own hand. It is the message I sent to his father when we first arrived in Khitan. I was trying to tell him that the plan to kill King Joon failed and Tiyung was in prison.

Tiyung slips the note back into his pocket, unwilling to part with the letter.

“I knew you were alive and still trying to help me,” he says. “It was enough to get me through the darkest times.”

He shudders, and I realize that’s the difference—Tiyung is more haunted, less convinced of the goodness in the world.

He’s more like me.

I sigh. “I couldn’t even think about what you were going through.”

Shame floods me, sending heat into my cheeks. I was all he thought about, and I couldn’t bring myself to think about the realities of Idle Prison.

“Of course not,” he says. “You were on a very dangerous mission. You still are. But I’m with you now, Sora. Whatever comes our way.”

He takes a step closer to my side of the table. A part of me wants to fall into him. I missed him, and I’m so tired of being strong. I wouldn’t have to keep holding myself together if I fell into him, because he’d wrap me in his arms. But I stand straight. I can’t—for so many reasons.

“Your father killed Daysum,” I say.

He draws a breath. “I know he sold her to Lord Sterling. And Hana told me when she died.”

“He was responsible,” I say.

He nods. “I know. I’m so sorry, Sora. I wish I could’ve done something, anything to have prevented it. I wish I could have found her indenture or smuggled her away to Khitan. I should’ve. I could’ve done so much more. It’s as much my own failure to act as anything else.”

It isn’t his fault—not at all. But I don’t have the grace or kindness to say that aloud. Not now. Not when it comes to her.

“I’m going to kill him.” I stare at Tiyung, waiting for a reaction.

He blinks but doesn’t break eye contact. “I know.”

I search his face, still handsome despite the broken nose that was never properly set. But that can’t be it—that can’t be his full reaction to me wanting to murder his father.

“Seok is who he allowed himself to become,” Tiyung says as his fingers trace along the map.

His expression is grave, his forehead lined.

“I don’t pretend that he’s a good man. To ask you for mercy for someone who never showed you a drop of kindness isn’t fair.

I know who you are, and I know who he is. I also know what he deserves.”

I’d forgotten this side of Tiyung. How reasonable and fair he can be. This is why Mikail wanted him on the throne—because, in the end, he is a good person with a kind heart. He grew to be different from the soil he was raised in.

He is not his family.

“What do we do now?” I mutter.

He takes another step closer and reaches out slowly, his hand seeking mine. When I don’t do the same, he lets his fingers fall onto the table. “We survive. And then maybe there will come a day when there can be more than survival.”

I force a smile. “That’s a nice fantasy.”

His ocean-blue eyes scan me, and then he frowns. “You have to believe in hope, Sora. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“Revenge—that’s the only goal.”

He shakes his head. “Vengeance is a fire without warmth. And you deserve warmth.”

It’s a sweet thought, but it’s unrealistic. I pull my hand away from his and run it through my hair.

His fingers curl in, and he nods, dejected. I hate causing him pain, but there’s no room for love and affection when all I feel is rage and emptiness.

“I need to go lie down,” I say.

He nods, and I leave him alone in the war room.