I stepped into the palace, half expecting to be thrown out, but everyone seemed too distracted to pay me any mind.
A crowd of nurses talked of the Crown Prince. The king had changed his decision, permitting his son to accompany him and his entourage on the homage trip to Queen Jeongseong’s royal tomb for the memorial service.
“When will His Highness return, uiwon-nim?” I asked my superior, remembering the medicine I had promised to bring the prince. I had to do so discreetly, as it was forbidden to administer medicine to a royal without officially recording it. I could have made it sooner, too, if not for the prison incident.
My thoughts came to a standstill at Physician Nanshin’s prolonged silence. “Uiwon-nim?”
“You shouldn’t be here, Nurse Hyeon.” A frown knotted his brows. “Not anymore.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean, uiwon-nim,” I said, even as a dreadful weight sunk into my chest.
“Lord Shin…” he whispered, a note of worry edging his voice. “He has demanded your removal, and he has many powerful connections within the palace.” He then held out his hand. “I am sorry, Nurse Hyeon, but I must ask for your palace identification tag. You no longer serve here.”
A surge of grief rose in my chest, followed by panic. The murder weapon was still within the walls. “May I finish assisting Nurse Jieun? I said I’d help her make medicine today,” I lied.
Hesitation crumpled his face, then he cast a pity-filled look my way. “Very well, but you must still return the tag.”
I blinked fast as I reached into my apron pocket and handed the tag to him, and I felt like I had handed over the only dream I ever had. I was nothing now, had nothing—except a murder case to solve.
“I do not know what happened, but I am sorry to see you go.”
Physician Nanshin’s words stung, and if this had been weeks ago, I would likely have crouched somewhere to cry alone. But I rallied all my thoughts on the task at hand. To make Crown Prince Jangheon’s medicine and await his return.
Following the instructions I’d memorized, I prepared a small iron firepit and a boiling pot of water, then poured in the ingredients I had scavenged. Roughly cut-up baek-bok-ryung mushroom, which looked like chunks of rotten wood; dried jishil citrus; and a handful of other dried ingredients and roots.
Hiding from Jieun—for I knew she’d notice my distress at once—I crouched in the shadow of the Royal Apothecary with my back hunkered over the small pot, fanning the flame beneath. I needed just the right amount of heat to allow the herbs to simmer for a good hour.
Now and then, passing groups of nurses paused to glance my way, whispering among themselves. The word must have spread that I had been demoted. I lowered my head even more. I was a nobody; I didn’t want to be seen by anyone.
Then the clouds gathered, dark and rolling. The shadows in the courtyard grew. I glanced up, wondering if it would rain, and right then, a droplet plopped into my eyes. I flinched and dashed the water away.
I was running out of time.
Quickly lifting the lid, I peered into the pot. “Thank heavens,” I whispered. The liquid had simmered down to what might fill one small bowl. It was enough.
Gathering my apron around my hand, I picked up the black pot, its spout pointing out, as I escaped from beneath the open sky. Rain began to pour in earnest just as I dashed toward the nearby pavilion.
Across the courtyard, a line of nurses had stopped in their tracks despite the weather, bowing to a tall gentleman. My own steps slowed at the sight of his police hat and the unmistakable crescent of his face. A sharp tremor shot through me.
I rushed back into the shadows, the rain falling heavier now. I hurried down the terrace then hid behind one of the large columns upholding the roof high above me. My heart thundered so loud I could hear its pounding echo in my ears. Setting the pot down, I wiped the sweat and rainwater from my brows, my insides trembling.
“Why are you hiding from me?”
I whirled around to find myself face-to-face with Eojin, his expression taut with pained confusion. “Where did you disappear to last night?” he asked.
I gathered my hands behind my back, curling my fingers into a tight knot. “To the Gaekji House, where nurses can stay overnight.” I glanced around—anywhere but at the young man before me. We were alone behind the apothecary, isolated behind the veil of rain dripping from the green-painted eaves.
I swallowed hard, trying to sound unaffected. “What are you doing here, nauri?”
He stood still—his eyes downcast—a tired and haggard look on his face. “This is all my fault. I was too reckless.” He took my hand, and, unfolding my fingers, he placed an object in my grasp. It was my silver acupuncture case.
“I questioned Damo Sulbi when I discovered this,” his voice rasped. “She told me what occurred. And the other prisoners told me what they’d overheard between you and your father. That you are to lose your position here because of me.”
He was still holding my hand. I at once pulled myself free.
“It’s not your fault. I asked you to sneak me into the bureau—”
“I’ll make everything right again.” A note of determination hardened his voice. “I’ve prepared a report for the Old Doctrine faction.”
Dread cinched around me. “What report…”
“We haven’t yet found solid evidence, but … I intend to bring all we’ve discovered before them. And in return, I will ask that they put Commander Song out of power and return you to your position.”
My head shook slowly. No one who involved themselves in court politics tended to live for very long. “Not yet, nauri. It’s too soon to hand everything over to the Old Doctrine.” I picked up the pot, still hot in my grasp. “There is one more thing I need to find. One last thing I can do for the investigation—for your report. The Crown Prince knows something, and I have a way of finding out.”
His brows pressed together. “How—”
“I’ll tell you more next time, nauri. But you must promise to do nothing until then.” I bowed, wanting to rush off before Eojin could protest. “If you will excuse me.”
“Hyeon-ah, wait.” He reached out for me, but his hand dropped away as I turned. “When all this is over…” His gaze bored into me—that familiar searching gaze, as though he were leaning in to peer beneath the surface of who I was. As though he actually saw something worth looking for. “Come with me to the Lantern Festival.”
I blinked as a burning sensation spread across my chest. We had only ever visited crime scenes and our command post to hold discussions about corpses and clues. The thought of going anywhere outside of that—the thought of our partnership existing outside of it—it was so hard to fathom. It was hard to imagine being an ordinary young man and woman, without the bonds of death holding us together. It was hard to imagine whether he would even want to remain friends with me then.
“But … why me?” I asked, breathless.
Eojin stepped close and whispered, “I like being with you.”
I clutched the pot tighter, the only thing separating me from his towering figure. He hesitated, then ran a finger down the side of my cheek. I stopped breathing as I found myself unable to break my gaze from his. At that moment, I forgot where I was. It seemed we must have both forgotten, for he leaned down and pressed his lips against my cheek.
So quickly was he gone—taking a retreating step away from me—that I almost wondered if the kiss had even happened.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice unsteady. “I wasn’t thinking. That won’t happen again.”
My heart pounded, and a feeling like a bruise formed at the pit of my stomach. Father’s words echoed in my head, ringing true now and sharpening the sting. I would never be anyone’s Greatest Love. I would always be a stolen kiss, a fleeting moment—a mistake.
“You called me bold, so I will be bold, nauri,” I said with surprising calm. “I may be a mere servant girl to you, but I will not be your plaything.”
“Hyeon-ah,” he called, but I’d already turned to leave. He crossed the terrace in an instant and caught my wrist. “Please, you misunderstand me … A plaything? Do you think I care for you so little?”
I lowered my lashes, staring hard at the brilliant blue of his silk robe. He is no different from me, Father’s voice said, as though he stood right by my side. Eojin may fancy you now, but later, there will always be someone else. Someone worthier than you.
“I can’t afford to be distracted. Not now. Not when—” I swallowed hard. “Not when I’ve lost too much searching for the truth already. I apologize, nauri. But I can’t be distracted by you, and neither should you be distracted by me.”
Someone far off cleared their throat.
Snatching my wrist away, I shot a glance over my shoulder to see Lady Hyegyoung and a drenched court lady standing in the yard. The latter was holding up a jiusan parasol by its long handgrip, protecting Her Ladyship from the rain. When had she arrived? How much had she seen?
My mind raced, and these frantic questions pulled me away from Eojin and the look on his face.
“I need to go,” I said, and left him there.
As soon as I approached Lady Hyegyoung, she whispered, “Eunuch Im told me that you were tasked with procuring medicine for the prince. Do you have it?”
This was supposed to be a secret, but Her Ladyship didn’t look outraged. “I do.” I lifted the pot. “Ondamtang.”
“Follow me,” she said, and I did. “We must prepare for the prince’s return. He will be in a foul mood.”
“But, my lady, he has left to pay homage to—”
“His Highness is on his way back.” She looked at me, and her eyes were full of dread. “It started raining so heavily. The king blamed His Highness for it, saying the heavens were showing their displeasure at the prince’s presence. So the prince—and he alone—was ordered to leave.”