Chae-Na goggled briefly at the woman’s perceptiveness. How could she discern so much without the ability to see? She was quite correct, of course. Though it was not truly evil spirits that plagued her, but a loathsome fiancé who had arrived in the city two evenings before. She had only three more days of freedom, while her betrothed went through quarantine.
“Ready? Three!”
Chae-Na swung and bellowed, “Hee-toh!” The cry came from some unknown depth within her, and though she suspected she sounded foolish, she had to admit it felt good. Honest, primal, liberating.
“Four!” Zarra shouted.
Chae-Na called out, louder still, “Hee-yah!”
“Five!”
“Hee-yoh!”
“Very good, Princess. You’ll scare off the Spiritblighter himself, with a bellow like that. Back in line.” Chae-Na stepped back, grateful to no longer be the center of attention.
“We’ve run out of time for the afternoon, so make sure you do your wrist stretches over lunch. Bow out.”
As a group, the students lofted their swords upon flat palms, bowed to Zarra, then ceremoniously mimicked sheathing their wooden blades. As soon as this formality was complete, they tossed their false swords into a chest and dispersed.
Chae-Na walked with a new spring in her step, on her way to meet with her brother. She was feeling dangerous, reckless, and a touch giddy. She crossed the grounds and made towards a little-used back entrance to the palace. As she turned the corner around a hedge, she collided bodily with a large, warm something. She nearly fell backwards, but hands grasped her shoulders and steadied her.
“Careful,” Ko-Jin said. He had been carrying a folder, and an assortment of papers fluttered down to the frosty path.
She knelt, as did he, to scoop up the papers before they caught the wind. She glanced up at his face while he stacked documents, noting the serious line of worry etched between his brows. She did not like to see such humorless expressions on his face; it seemed, somehow, the spoiling of a pure and perfect thing.
“Thanks,” he said, as she returned his notes. He rose and held out a hand to help her stand; she took it and was brought lightly to her feet. They were hidden between two frosted hedgerows, quite isolated. It occurred to her that she did not know when, or if, she would be alone with this man again.
Perhaps it was those freeing heetohs that compelled her, or the strong sense that a clock somewhere was ticking down her remaining minutes of liberty, but she shifted her hand in his own and twined her fingers through his. And then she looked up to meet his gaze with her own, for the first time, undisguised. She wondered when she had begun loving him.
A series of expressions flitted across his striking features: His usual polite amicability yielded to brief confusion. His brows pulled down, then rose up. His eyes changed. He leaned his head slowly forward in question, and she—guided still by an uncharacteristic lack of caution—responded in kind.
And then he was kissing her, and it seemed she must be dreaming. His lips were soft, undemanding, almost reverent. His warm palm came to rest on her cheek. Having never done such a thing before, she had not anticipated how extraordinary it would feel to be this close to another person. His nose was flush with her nose; his forehead pressed to her forehead.
It ended too soon.
He pulled back and studied her. She was unsteady on her feet. She felt electrified, dizzy, and, above all, sad; wretchedly, wrenchingly sad.
“Thank you,” she whispered. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “That was…but it cannot happen again.”
“I know,” he said, and by his tone she believed him. “I should go. I have to…” His fingers drummed the folder in his hand. But he didn’t move right away. He was looking at her with his lips still parted, his head still tilted towards hers. And then he pulled away, and the separation was like the snapping of a switch. The air around her turned cold. He took several steps up the lane.
She meant to watch his retreating back. But he wheeled around again and returned to her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But if it was meant to be just the one kiss, I should have been more thorough about it.” And then his lips were on hers again, and this time his mouth was open and everything turned hot. Her mind went blank and she leaned all of her weight into him. For a few wonderful seconds, nothing save Ko-Jin mattered. She was just a woman, he was just a man.
The sound of a nearby door opening caused them to spring apart. Chae-Na’s breath came in uneven gasps, and a rush of guilt surged through her. She could hardly believe what she had just done. It seemed so unlike herself that, even though she could feel a slight swelling in her lips, she half-doubted that it had happened at all.
“Go,” she said to him, and then she spun on her heel and hurried to the door without a backwards glance. She could not moderate her pace as she should; the tattoo of her intemperate heart compelled her to move quickly.
She reached her room without once seeing her surroundings or noting her path, and she slipped within. She knew she could only take a moment, as Jo-Kwan would be expecting her. But if she did not take a few seconds to regain her self-possession, her brother would notice.
She pressed her back to the door, closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing. As she counted down from ten to one, her pulse slowed to its usual rhythm.
It was wrong, she told herself. But I shan’t do it again, we were not seen, and he will say nothing. All will be well. The last sounded a lie, even in her own mind. But there was nothing for it.
With one final rallying inhale, she left the retreat of her bedroom and wended up the hallway towards Jo-Kwan’s study. She made a concerted effort to walk calmly, to knock only lightly upon the door.
“Come,” her brother’s voice called.
Chae-Na slipped inside and found Jo-Kwan once again bent over a desk. His leather-bound journal sat open before him. The philosophy and history books were all now closed and stacked, rather than sprawling across the surface of his desk.
“Oh, good,” he said. “I had worried you’d forgotten me. We don’t have much time, I’m afraid. Ko-Jin left a little while ago to meet the Pauper’s Men at the gate.”
Chae-Na’s face remained smooth. Though she thought they had more time than Jo-Kwan anticipated, given that she had delayed his general’s errand by some minutes. “And what did you want to discuss?”
Jo-Kwan flipped back to the first page of his journal and then slid the small volume to her. Before she could reach for it, however, he set a second, more alarming object, before her. A ring. She gazed at it with an ill feeling in her stomach. “My plans. But first, Melerre had this sent up for you. You should be seen wearing it.”
Chae-Na’s hand turned heavy as she reached out for the diamond. The ring slid onto her finger, cold as a shackle. She stared down at that glinting bit of brightness, her mind blank. It had been a very strange afternoon.
“Chae-Na,” Jo-Kwan began, his voice full of concern. “I’m sorry. I know…”
She shook her head, blinked, and sniffed. “No. Do not apologize. It is what it is, and you know as well as I how that feels. Please, tell me of your plans.”
“You aren’t going to like those either, I’m afraid. Open to the first page.”
Chae-Na scanned his handwritten notes. She frowned and read again, hoping that she was misunderstanding what he had written. “A two-tier monarchy? You mean such as ancient Chasku had?”
“Yes. Two rulers, one for the gentry and one to represent those who do not own land.”
Chae-Na could not keep the horror from her face. “Jo-Kwan, this is insane. This criminal has been calling himself king of the paupers for decades, and you want to make the title official? Hand him a crown?”
“He has already fashioned his own authority from nothing. The poor look to him; he is their king already. We are on the brink of social upheaval, surely you can see that. But with the king of paupers working with me rather than against me…”
“And
should the two of you come to an impasse on an important matter of state, and are unable to agree upon a course of action, what then?”
He gave an unconcerned shrug. “Ineffective leaders may be legally ousted and replaced, which should encourage compromise.”
Chae-Na sensed a greater shock to come, and so asked with hesitance, “Ousted how?”
“By a vote, and then an election. There is a reason that Chasku flourished during the golden century, when such a government was in place. It is a superior system.”
“And do you expect the aristocracy—Veldon—to support such a ludicrous plan?”
“Oh, yes, I should think he would be most keen. He would have a path to the throne himself, if elections were possible. I should not be surprised if he were to end up with the crown eventually, in truth.”
Chae-Na fiddled with the ring on her finger. “And that prospect does not trouble you?” She could not help but contemplate such an outcome from a selfish perspective: if Veldon were king, then she would not be royalty. She would be nothing, and free.
But no. She would doubtless be married well before such a time came. The city needed soldiers now, and the contract had been signed. Three days.
“And if the Pauper’s King accepts your offer, slits your throat, and takes both crowns?”
“I do not think that likely.”
“Your optimism—it may get you killed, and if not it will certainly be the death of the nation.”
He glanced up at her with glittering eyes. “I am optimistic it will be otherwise.” He grinned at her scowl and stood. “Peace, sister.” He shook his head at her affectionately. “I hear you, I hear your concern, and I respect your opinion. But I must do right where I see it.”
“But—”
“Can you not see the irony in your argument? You believe I am wrong—”
“You are wrong.”
“You believe that I should lead this nation, and yet you disagree with my basic principles. And so either I am unfit because you are correct, or I am unfit because I am correct. Either way, I am right.”
“You believe yourself unfit for the crown?” she asked, baffled. He would be ten times the king their father had been.
“I believe the crown unfit for the nation.”
The door to the king’s private office swung wide, without knock or announcement, and Ko-Jin entered.
Chae-Na turned her gaze to the window, not able to meet his eye yet. What might she find in those depths? There seemed no possibility that would not pain her.
“We’re ready, Highness.”
“Jo-Kwan,” Chae-Na said. She reached across the desk and grabbed his hand, her look direct, pleading. How could a person whom she loved and respected so well be so obtuse? “Please reconsider.” He shook his head, but patted her hand. “Then be careful, at least.”
“That, I can promise.”
When the door clicked shut behind them, Chae-Na sighed and roamed to the sofa, where she collapsed with an ill-bred grunt. She supposed she should not feel so blindsided; Jo-Kwan had never been one to follow the set path. He questioned everything, and he allowed his compassionate heart too much authority over cold reason. Qualities which made him an excellent brother, son, and friend, but perhaps not an excellent king.
Chae-Na gazed down at the shifting block of sunshine on the carpet, and reflected that, for the first time in her life, she could not picture the future.
It seemed that everything was crumbling around her, and she could not decide whether she would rather hold fast to what had been, or let it all go.
Chapter Ten
Ko-Jin’s gaze swept the hall for motion, for any unexpected alteration or threat. Nothing appeared out of place, but the golden light from the setting sun cast a glimmer upon all the gilded ornaments on the walls, an effect that distracted the eye. He kept his hand on the hilt of Treeblade and remained a deliberate half-pace behind Jo-Kwan.
Maintaining this level of vigilance was proving a greater test to his mental discipline than usual; it would be all too easy to let his thoughts drift to more self-interested matters. But the untangling of that afternoon’s event would have to wait.
Marching at his side, the king appeared withdrawn. He clutched a small leather diary to his chest, like a shield against his heart.
“You’re sure about this?” Ko-Jin asked.
Jo-Kwan had a singular expression stamped upon his features—a certain contented calmness. “I am,” he said.
“Can I not persuade you to allow me in the room, at least? Based on Arlow’s impression of the man, I don’t believe he means you harm, but you can never be too careful…”
Jo-Kwan began shaking his head before Ko-Jin had finished speaking. “It is important to open negotiations with a measure of trust. He is putting himself at greater risk than I; he must wonder if I do not mean to lure him to an arrest.”
Ko-Jin heard the rapid clip of approaching feet from around the far corner. He braced himself, hand tightening on his pommel, until a figure in Cosanta robes glided into view.
“There you are,” Britt said with a glower. “I’ve been looking for you. Chisanta patrols have been increased for the evening, as you asked—”
“Is that really necessary?” the king asked Ko-Jin.
He shrugged. “Probably not, but Quade has been targeting the Pauper’s Men. It seemed wise to add extra protection while they’re in the building.” He swiveled his focus back to Britt. “Thank you. Be sure to have them circulating the entire palace, but pay special attention to the servants’ quarters on the ground floor.”
Her expression betrayed nothing. “Why?”
“No one would expect the king to conduct an important meeting in the palace steward’s office. Better not to be exactly where Quade would anticipate, don’t you think?”
She quirked a sandy brow in appreciation of this plan, but soon regained her usual no-nonsense demeanor. “I will see to it,” she said, then set off down the hall at a trot.
During this conversation, Jo-Kwan had wandered to the nearest window. He gazed through the panes, leaning his forearms on the sill. “Do you believe that everything happens for a reason, Ko-Jin?”
The evening had been painted a violent shade of orange. Down on the palace grounds a group of new recruits were sparring in pairs with the Elver swordsmen. Zarra herself paced between the groups, monstrous hound at her side.
“No.” He watched as Zarra pointed to the ground, and one of her new students dropped down to the snow for push-ups. Ko-Jin smiled. “Or, maybe. I don’t know. Depends when you ask me.”
“Today?”
He thought of a recent choice he had made, hidden behind a snow-crusted hedgerow. “I believe that everything that happens has a consequence.”
Jo-Kwan huffed a short laugh through his nose. “That’s not a belief, General. It’s a simple fact.”
“I’m a simple man.”
Jo-Kwan shook his head, as if he did not believe this assertion, and then pushed away from the window. They descended the main stairway side by side. The entrance hall was lined with palace guards, who all stood a bit straighter upon Jo-Kwan’s appearance.
Ko-Jin swept his attention to and fro, detecting nothing out of the ordinary as they pressed on. He did not truly believe the Pauper’s King a danger to them. He’d had only one brief interaction with the famed criminal king, but had formed the strong impression that the man was nothing worse than pragmatic.
They entered the antechamber of the steward’s office, a small room that smelt strongly of silver polish.
“Hey, mate,” Arlow said, not troubling to rise from his chair. Ko-Jin grinned and winked at his brother, then swiveled his attention to the others in the room. The Pauper’s King’s sister, Mae, sat poised on the chair beside Arlow, as if ready to spring to her feet at any moment. She was chewing on a chunk of her short, dirty-blonde hair. She looked as if she were recovering from an illness.
Across from her, a tall man with a red beard leaned aga
inst the wall. He nodded to the king and to Ko-Jin. That not one of them had bowed seemed a purposeful omission of formality, but Jo-Kwan appeared not to mind.
Ko-Jin opened the door to the inner office and led the way into the larger room, which was lit only by golden sunlight streaming through the far window. The Pauper’s King lounged at the steward’s desk, his feet crossed and propped up on the oaken surface. The soles of his shoes were visible before his face. A cigar trailed sweet smoke in a column, up to the vaulted ceiling.
Ko-Jin looked to the king, uncertain how he would respond in the face of such blatant insult. He found his friend smiling and unprovoked.
Jo-Kwan, a vision of insouciance, strolled across the Chaskuan rug and took a seat on the window’s ledge, rather than seating himself in the chair opposite the desk. He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. “Shoes on the table. My mother would have boxed my ears.”
The Pauper’s King grinned around his cigar and exhaled. “Mine too.” He swung his feet back to the ground and leaned forward in his seat. Reaching into his vest pocket, he produced a second cigar. Jo-Kwan accepted this offering with a slight bow of the head. “And how about yourself, General?” Linton asked. “Would your mother take issue with shoes on the table? Surely this must be a universal.”
Ko-Jin, feeling as though he had missed something, shrugged. “We don’t wear shoes indoors in Chasku. So, yes, shoes on the furniture would be a pretty big no-go.” He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised. “I’ll need to search you once again, Linton. Precautions, you understand.”
The man unfolded himself, apparently at his leisure, and extended his arms. The cigar remained clamped between his teeth. Ko-Jin patted the man down, beginning at the wrists and working his way along the torso and legs. He found nothing more insidious than a pocket watch.
After a gesture of approval, Linton took his seat once more. Ko-Jin conducted a quick sweep of the office, but everything was just as it had been upon his last inspection.
The Complete Marked Series Box Set Page 90
