Page 53 of Reign of the Talon
“No.”
Because you smell like a corpse.I’m shifting from foot to foot. Any moment now, the Dalgyal Gwisin will appear at the edge of the field, its maw open and ready for me…
“No. Be honest with yourself, Lina. Why were you afraid of me?”
I am utterly lost. Everything I told the beast was true.
I was a child, and it was a hungry monster with a gaping maw. I was small, and it was large. I was clumsy, slow, and it was so godsdamned fast. Yet I suspect it will find none of those answers acceptable. As it regards me with the red eyes that are somehow kind, I take a deep breath and try to do as it asks. No other stairwell is in sight. I suspect it will not appear until I uncover this truth. Why was I afraid of it?
It was composed of shadows, and I feared the dark.
It reminded me of the beasts prowling in the Wyusan Wilderness, beasts my young mind feared would somehow find their way into Sunpo.
It was unnatural.
The monster shakes its head to all of these. With one paw, it reaches out, grazing my forehead. And then I know.
The answer is such a fragile, vulnerable thing. It trembles within me. The beast looks at me expectantly as I gaze into those deep, scarlet eyes, seeing—compassion.
That compassion gives me the strength to begin moving my hands.If you were in my dreams, it meant you were created by me, I answer with small, hesitant motions.And it frightened me that I could create something so awful. I never wanted to be wicked.
Yet look what I became, in the end. The irony lances through me like a spear.
The monster bows its head. Presses it against me. Tears spilling down my face, I hesitantly stroke my fingers over the nightmare’s fur as the sea of barley begins to part. It reveals another staircase in the center, dark stone steps waiting for me. Just as the terrible sound of chittering teeth is carried upon the wind…growing closer.
“Go,”says the beast.“And hurry. I am only one of seven keys. Six more await.”
Keys?
“Goodbye, Lina,”whispers the monster, beginning to vanish into the air.“And good luck.”
And then it is gone.
Wiping the tears from my face, I stagger to the stairs, aware of the susurrations of the barley behind me: aware of the Dalgyal Gwisin on my trail, crawling after me on all fours. Part of me wants to stay and fight it. Kill it. Yet deep down I know it’s a chance I can’t risk. Better to try and stay ahead of it, to get as far as I can before I am faced with such danger.
As I lurch up the first step, something materializes around my neck. A chain of cold metal, connected to a small, silver key with a charm that looks suspiciously like the nightmare’s beast. Understanding blooms within my mind as I remember the seven keyholes on the padlock of my cell.
Seven keys.
Six more to go.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Iseul
“Stopdraggingme,” Iseul bites out as she stumbles after Seojin in the Gyeulcheon sickbay. The wounded glare at her, and she sneers back at them. Oh, they’re sosensitive.All she did was shove them over and trash this very infirmarya little bit—
Seojin ignores her, focusing on administering the healing brew to the victims of Imugi venom. Iseul knows this brew. It’s a very potent painkiller, and this victim certainly needs it. His flesh is being eaten away little by little. Imugi venom adheres to the skin like a suckling leech.
“Ow!” Iseul snaps as Seojin moves his right hand, which forces Iseul’s left hand to move. The handcuff is sotight.
“Please stop complaining,” he whispers out of the corner of his mouth as he pours the brew onto a spoon and slips it into a soldier’s slack mouth. “We both know who landed us here.”
The Gumiho scowls. She will complain if she pleases, and she will make it a point to do it oh-so-veryloudly. “I am aprisoner of war,” she huffs, “manacled to acrueltraitor—”
Seojin sighs and moves to the next cot, pulling Iseul along with him. She scoffs in outrage, the skin on her left wrist chafing.
It really is a horrible punishment, Iseul reflects, to be trapped next to Ryu Seojin all day long. An exquisite sort of torture. Their wrists are rubbed red and raw, but nothing hurts as much as the deep gash in Iseul’s heart. Oh, she loved Seojin. He was her best friend, the first boy she ever kissed in a clumsy bumping of noses and grinning lips. He healed her when she was nothing but a tiny, wounded fox, and he stood steadfastly by her side as she expertly swindled Sunpo into making her a notoriously rich madame.
