Page 13 of Reign of the Talon
…
I try to see Eunbi again.
Of course I do.
If there is even the slightest chance that the visions in my dreams are true—if there’s even the slightest chance that she canseeme—I have to know. I have…I have to confess to being the monster I am, to assure her that I am locked away, in a place where I will never hurt anybody I love again.
Yet every time I begin to drift off, the Aglyeong—still furiously cradling its injured hand—rattles the bars of my cage with its other, jerking me out of whatever fitful doze I have been able to find. Filling my ears with merciless taunts.
Emphasizing how delicious of a meal I would be.
On the cold floor of my cell, I close my eyes and see only darkness.
CHAPTER SIX
Rui
Swords forged in flames of blue.
Kang, apparently, believes they could be the key to ending this war. For Rui’s fire is the one weapon lethal toward the Prophecy. His advisor proposes that should that fire create armaments, those blades will, concentrated, carry within them those deadly flames. And it will be not only Rui who stands a chance against the Prophecy, but any in possession of a Dokkaebi firesword.
Standing in the Gyeulcheon weaponry, Rui levels his advisor a long look, a formidable expression etched upon his face as he watches a bead of sweat trace its way down Kang’s pallid forehead. Rui lets his silver eyes flash with a hint of the very fire Kang needs him to channel to create the weapons. “Weapons forged in dokkaebibul,” the Dokkaebi emperor repeats slowly, running his eyes over the cold forges. He is only recently returned from Wyusan, and his mind is heavy with exhaustion. If he did not require her aid, he would not suffer Empress Moon Dahee to live. Disgust is still grimy on his tongue. “Made in the masses.”
Something in him falters. If his every soldier stands a greater chance of killing Lina, his goal—a quick, honorable death byhishands—will be harder to accomplish. He thinks warily of Chan, who still seethes, crazed by his deathbed promise to Hana. In the Supreme Commander’s hands, that weapon could bring forth torture and torment.
“If we leave soon for Iseung, we must be prepared,” Kang replies stiffly. Rui bristles. Once, listening to his advisor felt as natural as summer’s descent into autumn. Now, it feels as if Kang is crossing some invisible boundary. As if, despite his title—which Rui has not stripped him of—he holds no right to counsel Rui. Perhaps he does not. Perhaps he should have banished him long ago. But this is war, and Jeong Kang is valuable. “She will ambush us. Our soldiers have families waiting here. Why do you hesitate?”
Rui does not deign to reply, slitting his eyes and fixing Kang with a look that would have sent others running for Gyeulcheon’s hill lands.
But Jeong Kang knows his emperor. Rui wishes he did not as his advisor murmurs, “What you had is not coming back, Rui. The girl you loved is gone. You and Lina are soul-stitched as mortal enemies—”
“Don’t call her that,” Rui breathes, his hands spasming at his sides. His throat works, and it feels as if he is about to be sick. The words that tumble forth are barely more than a hoarse thread of a voice. “Thatthingis not Lina.”
“The Prophecy,” Kang corrects, eyes infuriatingly dubious. “How many times, these past months, did you attempt to again coax her out with your fire? You don’t need to lie to me. I know that even now, fighting to the death, you try to do it. Even knowing that it will not work, that our people depend on her defeat. That as you try, your people fall. You must let go of that hope, Rui. You mustfocus.”
Rui sneers, twisting his lips and curling his hands into fists as anger thrums deep in his bones and blood. “It almost worked once,” he says, low and dangerous. “We nearly thwarted a Prophecy. Lina broke back into her body, but Eunbi—” The emperor cuts off with a choke.
He cannot say it.
He has never been able to say it.
It lingers between the two Dokkaebi, as thick and choking as the hot winds of a summer storm. Rui, pain cleaving his heart, yanks his head to the side and presses a shaking fist to his mouth. Kang swallows hard and shudders, and Rui is grimly satisfied to see the agony in his advisor’s downcast gaze.
Kangshouldhate himself for what happened. For what he failed to prevent.
For what he instigated.
“My fire should be sufficient,” Rui rasps after a long moment, collecting the fragmented pieces of himself and valiantly attempting to piece them back together. “I am well-armed against her. These fireswords, Kang, they seem an unnecessary expense.”
Kang shakes his head. “With the rains, with the storms summoned by the Imugi, it is not possible,” he whispers. “Your fire weakens, it banks. But with the swords, the fire’s very essence will be melded into the metal. Concentrated within it. It will pierce her heart; it will kill her. You can end this.” He touches his emperor’s shoulder. Rui fights the urge to violently shrug him off. “Heat the forge, Rui,” Kang whispers. “For your people, and for the mortal realm.”
And with thatorder, every muscle in Rui’s body wants to shove Kang to the cold stone ground. He pants, jerking away from Kang’s touch, fury tingeing his vision red. How dare he? Howdarehe command Rui to create the weapons that will increase the possibility—that damned possibility—that Lina’s body will die a dishonorable death that is grotesque in its pain? The same body he has held, has loved, has cherished. How dare Kang invent the weapons of her death whenhe is the one who led them to this point?
Rui had thought—he had hoped thathewould be the one to end her. As quick as it could be. And perhaps a foolish piece of his soul had also hoped that by now, perhaps…perhaps she would have returned to him by some miracle, by some blessing.
But he’d seen her face as Eunbi fell.
He knows…she is never coming back.
