Page 92 of Reign of the Talon
He shakes his head and then smiles. The prince still doesn’t quite seem to know how to smile right, and combined with his flat stare, the result is rather unnerving. “No,” he says and then waits, like Iseul is going to praise him magnificently for showing a single semblance of basic human decency.
Iseul blinks. No?
This desperate desire to please everybody, to garner some semblance of friendship from each person here despite their own agendas, will only hurt Jeon Eunwoo. Yet it will helpher, and that’s what really matters, isn’t it? If Eunwoo is caught in the aftermath, that is not one of Iseul’s problems at all, really. She couldn’t care less about this boy with wings and hard eyes.
Oh, she’sturned a new leaf, so to speak, but her grudge against the Jeons is one that will continue to permeate every aspect of herlovelypersonality. She might not be able to kill this strange, bastard princeling—it seems he harbors as much of a vendetta against the Jeons as she does, and any enemy of the Jeons is notpreciselyan enemy of hers (in the loosest sense, of course. Iseul would not be opposed to sending Eunwoo tumbling down from the sky yet again)—but she doesn’t need to help him, either.
And shewillhave her fun eventually.
Because, she consoles herself, once this is all over and done with—once the real Lina reclaims her body and this war ends—who’s to say that Iseul can’t, well,destabilizethe Jeon reign? With the threat of dragons and destruction receded, Iseul will be free to do as she pleases to those pig-headed, selfish, horrible bastards.
Eunwoo is still waiting, like a dog returning a stick to its master.
Iseul sighs and grits out, “Thank you, Eunwoo.” She settles back pointedly. “I’m going to sleep now.Privacywould be appreciated.”
“Of course.” The princeling grins in that strange way of his, looking altogether pleased with himself as he takes back to the skies. She watches him go in a mixture of amusement and disdain before turning back to Seojin’s letter—and his request.
If you write to us of your destined location, the forces may be able to move quickly and make an interception.
If she tells the gods of the Bonseyo Shadowshafts, they will come, and they will kill Lina’s body. Rui has expressed that in order for Lina to reclaim her body, the body has to be kept alive. She glances over to where Rui is bent over a clump of herbs growing from the ground, looking suspiciously delighted. Chewing on her lip, she turns back to the letter and reads it once more, a cold sweat breaking out on her neck.
This is rather troubling, Iseul decides with a grimace. She seems to be residing in the gray area of this war, with the emperor. Drumming her fingers on the paper, Iseul whispers something exceptionally unsavory under her breath. She does not particularly like this impasse at which she finds herself.
If shedoesn’ttell Seojin of the Shadowshafts, then the Prophecy may very well come to fruition, and then the Eastern Continent will become an utterly depressing cesspool of dragons and dragonshit, and there will be nothing that any of them can do. Seojin will also be furious with her, and Iseul finds that she does not quite like the idea of Seojin once again viewing her as a horrible, bloodthirsty monster.
If shedoestell Seojin, then Rui will hate her— Well. Iseul eyes the emperor as he creeps over to the pile of animal carcasses the Imugi hunted for their supper and sprinkles what looks like crushed herbs over the bloody meat before gleefully melting back into his strange shadows. Iseul truthfully does not quite care if the Dokkaebi does not like her, but shedoescare about the real Lina, who deserves every chance to reclaim what is rightfully hers.
But…
Does she care enough to deny Seojin this crucial piece of information? This is the sort of knowledge that can change the course of a war, after all, and a war against a Prophecy already has such a small chance of succeeding.
Sighing, Iseul traces the letters of her and Seojin’s summer language. The still-damp ink marks the tips of her fingers.
How long would Seojin survive in the Prophecy’s world?
How wouldshesurvive without him?
Not long. Not long at all.
The choice rests between saving Lina or saving Seojin. It is a dreadful choice, a damning choice. And although she attempts to mull it over, Iseul knows who she will always—always—choose to save.
Slowly and quietly, Iseul makes a decision.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
The Prisoner
Outside of the cabin, the snow is beginning to melt, revealing small hints of hesitant earth hiding underneath. I stare out the window, one hand pressed flat to the glass, ignoring the throbs of pain that lance through my body from whatever the Prophecy has today endured.
What does it mean, I wonder, that winter is receding in this small corner of rest between the stairs and the levels? That the flurries of snow and storms of hail have stopped, replaced by a clear, velvet sky dappled with stars?
What does it mean, that Yego still hasn’t shown himself? A part of me wonders—no,hopes—that it’s a sign we’ve somehow thwarted our deaths…that Gameunjang has steered us away from an untimely demise. But that just doesn’t sound right.
Does it?
“Lina,” Rui says huskily as he appears in the chogajip. I turn, hand falling away from the window, to look at him. He looks entirely exhausted, and instead of his usual armor, he wears simple robes. Rui is unarmed, and I know it is the Prophecy’s doing—that he is her captive now, as he planned.
“I don’t know how much time I have,” he says, striding toward me. “She knows you’re moving through the mind and that I meet with you. I’ve tried to come here twice already, but both times she kicked me out of the trance. Quite literally, in fact. My ribs still hurt.” His silver eyes are so desperate, as if he expects to vanish at any moment, as he takes my face in his hands. The kiss is long, and sweet, yet edged with a hint of a familiar hunger.
