Page 15 of Reign of the Talon
Here lies the older sister, who protected and cherished and provided.
Here lies the wife of Haneul Rui.
Here lies Shin Lina, the Reaper of Sunpo.
The last of the Talons.
“Lina,” Rui breathes and nearly falls to his knees. Only his desire to open this door, to take his wife in his arms, keeps him standing as he wraps his hand around the handle. Rui lets out a low cry. It is locked, and even as he strains and pants and pushes, it will not budge. He strides around the door, but what he meets is identical to the opposing side. The golden talon, the inscriptions. The emperor shoves until his muscles ache with pain and his skin is slick with sweat. Bitter disappointment swelling up within him, he leans his hot forehead against the cold stone and wonders if he somehow fell asleep in the stables, if this is only another of the nightmares sent to him by the Prophecy. If she is toying with him, as she does in the dreams where he holds Lina in his arms only for her to transform into a serpent and tear out his throat.
“Lina?” Rui whispers desperately, knocking softly. “Little thief?”
There is no reply.
“Lina!” he bellows, hoarse with grief as he summons the last dregs of his strength.
Nothing.
Swallowing the taste of tears, the emperor steps away and returns to his body in the royal stables.
He does not know that in the dungeon where the door leads, the Prisoner is staring at one of the walls of her cell, wondering if she truly heard a…a voice on the opposite end, a voice that somehow did not sound like the wet rasp of the Aglyeong. He does not know that her traitorous wish to hold the Dokkaebi she once loved haschangedsomething, something integral, something with the power to shake the stars.
He does not yet know. Neither does she.
But they will.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Prophecy
I am very inclined to murder my two hundred human mercenaries and assassins.
Perhaps I can sate my desire by disemboweling one or two. Yet I do tend to get carried away, and I will need these mortals—these humans that are all weak muscle and sagging skin. To others, perhaps they look strong. Imposing, even. But to me, they look like pathetic little worms. Their raucous laughter and their stench disgust me to no end.
They are recently arrived from Im Yejin’s ship, meeting my forces and me on the expanse of near-barren, flat land—so aptly entitled the Stretch—between the Yaepak Mountain Range and the Wyusan Wilderness. They proved some semblance of their worth by finishing off the soldiers stationed on the Stretch before I arrived. It is not as impressive as it sounds.
Bomin’s inside intelligence, which arrives daily as a scroll in the beak of a clever black-winged bird, informs us that Empress Moon has chosen to concentrate her forces in the Wilderness itself. They and Gyeulcheon will make camp in Seocheonkkotbat, the flower god Hallakkungi’s garden. The garden is located only a few miles from where the Wilderness begins. Bonseyo has still not replied to Gyeulcheon and Wyusan’s summons. I am beginning to think that the taking of the northernmost kingdom will be the easiest by far. Do they know that we approach? Do they even care?
I ride atop Sonagi as we cross the Stretch. Here, winter has faded back into natural fall. The few scraggly trees that dot the land harbor some leaves of browning orange. Skinny birds swoop overhead, and the air smells of rich soil. Mist coils around the Imugi as they lead the long stretch of mortals forward toward the wide land of towering trees and brilliant foliage in the distance.
Next to me, on Uloe, Iseul makes a small noise that sounds almost like pain. Confused, I look at her and follow her gaze toward the forest in the distance. Sensing my puzzlement, Iseul clears her throat. “I used to live in these woods.” Her nose is red, and I hope it is only from the cold. I do not feel like dealing withemotions. They are useless, spineless, disgusting things. “When I was a young fox, before I gained my human form—” She tries for a smile, but it doesn’t quite work. “I lived in this wilderness with my eomma and appa. It’s where they—” Iseul falters, eyes growing bright. “It’s where they were shot down.”
“Mm,” I say, bored. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I’m not, though.
Iseul seems to have plenty of motivation for taking Wyusan, and that is quite useful. Yetmustshe wax poetic about her dead parents? It is tiring, to listen to these heavy words and figure out how I am supposed to respond.I’m sorryseems adequate. I nod, pleased with myself.
Iseul stiffens. “Is something preoccupying your mind, Lina?” She sounds…hurt.
I grimace.
“Not at all,” I bite out, annoyed by her insolent tone. “Only our imminent invasion of Wyusan.” My throat crawls, and I snap my fingers at Bomin, who rides near us. “Cigarette. Now.” Only when the halji curls down my throat do I relax and look again at Iseul.
Her mouth is a hard line. Her eyes are still glassy, but her shoulders are drawn tightly back.
“Your emotional intelligence,” she says, “istrulyimpressive.”
“Thank you,” I reply, blowing a smoke ring into the frigid air.
