Page 36 of Reign of the Talon
I cock my head. “Well, that was certainly the plan,” I purr. “Until just now.” He wants to die. I can feel it. He failed in his mission, and he is overcome with humiliation and a desire to see his poor, dead lover.Oh, please.
Trying to ignore the wound on my shoulder, I shove Chan to the ground with my unwounded arm and place a boot on his neck. I’ve never taken a prisoner of war before. I feel as if it will be amusing to torture this troublesome Supreme Commander. And perhaps he will come in useful. I plan to retrieve Iseul directly, but I have learned that war yields…unexpected surprises. Having a hostage may further guarantee the return of my Gumiho.
“Bomin,” I snap, “bring me the rope.Uloe, I hope you’re content with carrying a hostage.”
“Daughter. Are you well?”Sonagi sounds concerned as she winds closer and eyes the blood dribbling down my arm.
“Fine,”I pant. Albeit slowly, the wound has begun knitting itself back together. But it will be hours, I suspect, before the pain recedes and the injury fully closes. Chan went deep enough to nick bone.
Sonagi says something else, but I do not hear. Ifeelsomething instead, somebody watching from behind my eyes. Grimacing, I shove the Prisoner away from the scene…
And pause.
What is this?
Such a strange feeling, as if there is not one, but two small splashes of consciousnesses lurking deep within the recesses of my mind. One of them has faded, like a whiff of fragrance lingering in the air long after its wearer has left. Plum blossom. Licorice.
Lips thinning, I blame it on the blood loss.
But still, I wonder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rui
Rui pants through his teeth as Kang slathers his wound in some foul-smelling paste that brings with it a stinging sensation worse than a dozen wasps. They are once again in Gyeulcheon, in Kang’s study. Seojin grabs fresh bandages from where they are stored in one of Kang’s many drawers.
“This complicates matters,” says Kang. The shadows under his eerily wise eyes are deeper than usual.
“What uncanny wisdom you possess, Kang,” snaps Rui, arching a brow in an expression that is half droll, half furious. “I hadn’t realized. Thank you so much for bringing this to my attention.”
“The red thread of fate between the two of you has grown stronger.” Kang is focusing on the deep gouge in Rui’s shoulder. His advisor has tried to stitch the flesh closed, but each time, he fails. Rui has the terrible feeling that it will not heal until the original wound, on the Prophecy, heals. All Kang can do for now is staunch the bleeding. “Any injury she receives, you will receive. And I’m assuming it also goes the other way, as well.”
Rui hisses through his teeth as Seojin gently begins to wrap the cloth around his shoulder. He left Lina reluctantly only a half hour ago when the pain of this wound jerked him out of his trance.
His advisor does not know that the true Lina still exists, imprisoned within the mind. Rui has not been able to tell him, for fear that the Prophecy is listening. It seems as if the Prophecy does not know he has found his Lina, and he shudders to think what would happen if the secret is revealed too soon. Some instinct, deep inside of him—perhaps born by the soul-stitching itself—warns him that the safest option is to keep quiet.
For he is certain that the imprisoned Lina is his soul-stitched in love, while he is soul-stitched to the Prophecy in hatred. And if he wants to reclaim his love, he must play this game very carefully indeed.
“I’m assuming,” Rui drawls as Seojin finishes his work, “that now, if one of us dies, we both die.”
“You would likely be correct in that assumption,” Kang replies quietly.
Interesting.
This, then, is what the Dalgyal Gwisin heralds.
Rui can use this to his advantage—for now. When the troops are alerted to this, they will be more hesitant to kill Lina’s body. And perhaps it will offer an excuse to his confused soldiers as to why he ordered the Prophecy to be taken alive, rather than killed, at the Battle of Seocheonkkotbat. If they play it right, this could very well work in his favor. Not to mention, he thinks wryly, that the Prophecy very much does not want to die. Once she learns of this, she will be less thirsty for Rui’s death. The Prophecy cannot kill him without killing itself. He doesn’t quite feel like dying just yet, either, so this is not an entirely unwelcome development.
Rui watches as Kang scans his face warily, but his advisor apparently chooses to hold his tongue. If he suspects the direction in which Rui’s mind has strayed, knows that Rui has always been loath to strike the killing blow toward the woman he loves, he does not give anything away. Kang clears his throat.
“I will consult the books tonight,” he says quietly. “Perhaps there is a way to undo this linking.”
Perhaps. Likely not. “Alert the troops,” Rui commands, standing from the chair and reaching for his tunic. “And bear this warning: some of them may wish to end this war by murdering me, and by extension, the Prophecy.” He attempts his old smile, that wicked, taunting grin, but it feels stiff on his face. “And let the soldiers know that if any of them are struck by that fine idea, that I will smite them down. There is—there is much to do before I die.” The words feel odd on his tongue, as if they’re not quite real. The image of the Dalgyal Gwisin flashes through his mind; he forces it away.
Kang hesitates.
“Is there something you’d like to say?” Rui drawls with the distinct feeling that he knows precisely what the advisor is suggesting.
