Page 67 of Reign of the Talon
Taking a moment to eye Eunwoo carefully, I lean forward and lace my hands together. Sonagi is beside me, gleaming eyes watching the prince in more than a little interest. Ever since he helped secure Wyusan for my own, Eunwoo has been with my forces, acting as if he is one of my own. Yet that does not mean I have given the entirety of my trust to this strange bird of a boy. Never had I heard of a bastard son in Bonseyo.
What if he is a gift horse that I have looked in the mouth?
That is to say, what if he is a spy, sent by the gods?
Or by the Jeons themselves?
But then why would he have attacked the Dokkaebi emperor, why would he have given me this second kingdom? The armies had no choice but to retreat after Wyusan’s claiming had sent tremors through the earth, and as my Imugi—crazed with both triumph and bloodlust, such a beautifully dangerous combination—had surged forth with renewed vigor. The Wyusan-Gyeulcheon alliance regroups in Gyeulcheon, suffering heavy losses.
No, it is likely that I can trust Jeon Eunwoo. His motives are selfish, which secure my belief in him. I know all too well the craving for revenge, how sweet it is once tasted.
“I will gladly take this intelligence. But first, the army you’ve mentioned,” I say. “Tell me, Eunwoo, are they entirely unaware of the approaching threat? Do you know?”
“All sounds travel down to that dungeon,” Eunwoo replies, the legs of his chair abruptly hitting the ground. His smile wavers but then sharpens, as if he is afraid that a glimpse of weakness will not impress me.
The prince is right. It won’t.
“I’ve heard every single whisper in the palace these past twenty years. Of course I know,” he says. “Emperor Jeon’s army is not worthy of any accolades.” Eunwoo waves a pale hand at the map. “Oh, they have weapons, and they have a line of command, but what use is any of that when there’s barely any semblance of military training? Myfather”—a strange expression crosses his face, half longing and half hatred—“spends the royal budget on himself. Gold, baubles, secondary palaces, luxury ships, etcetera, etcetera. And the only trained soldiers are the ones who guard him from my backstabbing aunts and uncles and cousins. They don’t have leave to share their knowledge with the base troops.”
Interesting.Until now, I have taken Bonseyo’s silence to mean ignorance. But perhaps it is a pre-emptive surrender. Perhaps they know how woefully underprepared they are. If so, they are cleverer than Wyusan by far. If only dealing with Empress Moon had been half as easy.
“In other words,” Eunwoo continues, searching my eyes eagerly, “you have no reason to worry. As for whether my father knows you approach, the answer is yes. It would have been impossible for him to ignore all the Dokkaebi who came to barter with him. He plans to hand over the keys to the kingdom when you arrive. He wanted to flee, but he wants power more. He stays only to make sure that none of his relatives seize the throne when he’s gone. And he thinks he can strike some sort of deal with you, get a title as a lord, maybe a slice of land for his trouble.”
“And the people?” I ask slowly.
Eunwoo shrugs in a jerky, unsure motion. “How many people do you think live in a kingdom run by a dynasty who have more fun killing each other than tending to the kingdom’s infrastructure?”
That’s true. Most of the Eastern Continent’s population is concentrated in Wyusan and Sunpo.
“The few villages there probably won’t even care about your invasion,” Eunwoo explains, and it’s clear he’s waiting for my satisfaction and thanks, as a dog salivates over a bone. I make my lips curve upward ever so slightly. Eunwoo’s relentless desire for connection is growing tiring, yet it is a sacrifice I must make. “In fact, they’d probably like being ruled by you more than they like the Jeon Dynasty. What’s your opinion on basic necessities like rations of rice and clean wells?”
“I am not entirely opposed to them.” A goddess needs healthy and hale worshippers, after all.
“Well, there.” Eunwoo’s strange smile takes on an excited edge. His words come faster and faster in clear hopefulness that he has proven his worth by providing this intelligence. Pathetic. “You’re better already. Now, back to the route I think you should take.” His finger returns to the map, tracing a line through the persimmon grove. “Not even my father knows of the underground tunnels leading into the palace dungeon. The Bonseyo Shadowshafts. I’ve seen them; I’ve explored them while imprisoned. I could never use them to escape, though: they’re blocked off. But something tells me you’ll be able to get through.” He flicks a hesitant glance at Sonagi. “The Shadowshafts start here, where the old mines were.” His finger moves to the very beginning of the vast orchards, just after Habaek’s Bridge. Habaek’s River winds all along the continent, with a good portion dividing Wyusan from Bonseyo. “Take them, and you will enter the capital’s palace with the Jeons none the wiser.”
I tilt my head, tracking the path from here in the Wyusan capital to that first stretch of orchard. We would journey north for a few days before reaching Habaek’s River. The bridge is a large, stone arch and could easily hold the weight of my Imugi.
My forces, despite the losses at the Battle of Sanyeongto, are recently replenished. The Imugi injured in the Battle of Seocheonkkotbat are recently returned from Jeoseung and fully healed thanks to Daeyang’s excellence. With them, we could make quick work of Bonseyo, even with the possibility of the gods becoming involved for this final battle.
“Clever,” I murmur. Clever, indeed.
Eunwoo practically preens, feathers ruffling.
With the Prisoner running amok in my mind and no doubt intending escape, and with the gods discontent in Okhwang, this strategy could make quick work out of reaching Fulfillment. Once Bonseyo is taken—once the tunnels take me to the palace located in its capital of Gohtan—my Imugi, my beautiful, beautiful Imugi, will transform into Yong. Dragons, taking to the skies, delighting in the power that they have waited so long for—waited through hunts for their scales, wars against gods, and time spent in Jeoseung.
“What do you think, Chan?” I croon, turning to look at the general tied to a chair in the corner. He is just barely conscious now, with bloodshot eyes, matted hair, and pallid skin. He cannot reply, of course. There is a sedative-soaked gag stuffed in his mouth.
Killing him would have been such fun, but I think I prefer drawing it out this way. Letting Haneul rot in the knowledge he could have saved him with a simple switch. I’ve told Chan, of course, of Haneul’s refusal. I’d like to let that stew. Simmer. Perhaps, when I finally capture the Dokkaebi emperor, I can torture him with his friend’s hatred.
“No opinions? Pity. You had such strong ones in the past,” I purr before turning back to Eunwoo. “This was most useful,” I say. “I assume you will want a part in ending the Jeon line?”
“You assume correctly,” the prince replies, smile finally dropping, eyes darting toward his feet.
“Then you shall have it.” I incline my head. “But still, there is one more thing I need from you.”
Eunwoo’s wings ruffle in excitement. “Consider it done,” the princeling breathes.
CHAPTER FORTY
