Page 22 of Reign of the Talon
I feel the Aglyeong watching me, but I do not cower from it.
Rui?I think, wondering if my soul-stitched, my husband, is on the opposite side of the wall. Surely I am imagining this. Surely…
The wallshifts.It ripples, and for a moment, it looks like a door—a door embossed with golden paint and words I cannot make out. I stumble backward with a soundless cry as in that split second where the wall is a door, it swings open and…
And…
“Lina,” gasps Rui, staggering into my cell, covered in the dust and grime of battle. “Lina.”
…
Rui.
Rui is…here.
In my cell. In this place that is not a place, only a tiny crevice of a mind. In this strange realm of the spiritual, of the intangible. He ishere.
My husband is bracing himself against the wall that is once again the wall, his golden-beige skin pallid, his silver eyes glinting in the darkness as they pierce me, tracking the red thread extending from his chest to mine.
I am frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe. Unable to do anything butstareat him. His hair, once so beautifully long, scrapes against his cheekbones, and I remember the night I cut it with a pair of sharp shears. An uncomfortable feeling tightens my stomach as I look closer and realize that he is not wearing the ornate hanboks I am so used to, nor the glittering jewelries. This Rui is wearing the Imugi-scale plate armor over black combat robes—simple, easy to move in. Attached to his waist is an empty hilt, no blade in sight. All he wears on his fingers is one simple, silver ring. And I know it is a match to the one I crushed with the jade garakji.
Call to me, and I will come.
Even his face is different. War-hardened. No mischief sparkles in his eyes. Gone is his air of languid indulgence.
This is not my Rui. This is—this is the one I have seen through the Prophecy’s eyes. This is the one with a body heavily toned by the rigidity of a time of unrest. This is the one who is looking at me with shock and guilt and grief because he knows…
C R A C K.
He knows the part he played.
“Lina. Is it really you?” he whispers, a tear trickling down his face as he reaches for me with hands that are just as stained with Eunbi’s blood as mine are. I jerk away violently, the red thread of fate between us extending as I lurch backward. In my haste, I slam my head against the opposite wall, but the pain barely registers.
In my chest, agony is ripping open my heart. It is tearing the pulsing red mass open, exposing valves and shredding ligaments.
“Little thief—” He cuts off with a blanch as the Aglyeong laughs, drawing Rui’s attention to it. All the blood drains from Rui’s face as his eyes rest on the demon. He makes a sound of agony and shock low in his throat, eyes flaring wide.
I have never seen him so pale.
“No,” he whispers hoarsely, as the Aglyeong laughs again in aknowingway. “Not this. Not this. Oh, Lina, my love…”
I do not know whether I have ever stopped crying in here, but I am more acutely aware of the salt and sorrow than ever before as I hug myself around my waist and stare at the ground, at the cracks in the cold stone floor, at everywhere and anywhere but Haneul Rui.ShinRui.
“I’ve been trying to find you for so long,” my soul-stitched breathes, tearing his gaze away from the Aglyeong and holding the thread between us. I feel the slight ripple as he pinches it. “I never stopped looking for you. Perhaps…you had to reach out first. Ifeltyou. Ifeltyou, Lina.” He takes a hesitant step forward. “This is where you have been? All this time…”
He trails off as I slowly raise my eyes to him, letting him see every broken, bitter part of me. I let himfeelit, sending that emotion through the thread, knowing it feels like shattered glass underneath the skin.
Rui flinches as if he’s been slapped.
“Oh,” he whispers, his voice terrible in its grief. “Oh.”
My lips tremble violently. Words want to escape—hoarse words of blame—but I cannot open my mouth. I will not speak. I cannot speak. Instead, I hold his gaze as tears flow down my cheeks.
He is shaking violently, and his hands are quivering, as if he does not know what to do with them. A long moment passes, during which I feel the tumultuous sea of his emotions crash through the red thread of fate. There is the bitterness of self-loathing and regret, the icy shock of horror. Fiery rage, fragile grief. And under it all, as delicate as a baby butterfly, yet as unwavering as an ancient oak…
Love.
Rui swallows hard. There are dark purple circles underneath his eyes, and I wonder, despite myself, when he last slept. “I am not leaving you here,” he finally chokes out. “Not with this—not with thisthing. The door. Come with me through the door.”
