Under the cover of elaborate green-painted eaves, Lady Hyegyoung waited on the terrace, looking out for the Crown Prince, alongside a row of trembling court ladies.
I stepped into the prince’s residence, down an empty corridor, and into the inner quarter with a tray I’d quickly prepared moments ago, loaded with a drinking bowl and the pot of medicine. Both were dry, as I’d journeyed here under the parasol with Her Ladyship. Prepare a bowl of the Ondamtang medicine, she had ordered. Serve it to the prince on his return. We must do all we can to calm the seja-jeoha’s rage, or blood will flow again.
Again.
A creeping realization slid into my mind: Lady Hyegyoung already knew of Prince Jangheon’s violence, and his beheading of Nurse Hyo-ok. She had known, as had the three murdered palace women; they were all silent witnesses who had closed their eyes hoping to survive.
My knees bumped up against a low-legged table, and my mind snapped into focus. I knelt down, unloaded the tray, then poured the medicine into the drinking bowl, right up to the brim. Once that was done, I rose back to my feet and looked around, wondering where to stand.
I made my way toward the row of tall lattice screens where gray light filtered through and washed over the spacious floor, which was still cluttered with books and heaps of robes—as if the Crown Prince had thrown them aside in anger. Then my gaze lingered on the mother-of-pearl inlaid cabinet, glowing in the dim light.
I glanced around. No one was in this chamber but myself, and in the absolute silence that swamped around me, an outrageous idea surfaced. My gaze drifted back to the cabinet—the one Prince Jangheon had glanced at while telling me about a bloody object he had discovered on the night of the massacre.
It had to be the murder weapon.
This is your last day at the palace, a thought whispered in my head. The last day to uncover one last piece of evidence.
Gripping the tray tighter, I remained still, my heart leaping within my chest.
You lost your dream, your future. You’ve lost yourself. All for what? The voice circled around me, prickling down my skin. At least solve this case you gave up everything for.
I took a hesitant step forward, glanced around again. At the continued silence, my steps grew bolder. Setting the tray down, I slid one of the cabinet’s drawers open, then another, my hands moving quicker with every passing moment. I encountered little gemstones, gold pins, rolls of silk headbands—
I stopped, noticing one drawer that looked shallower than the rest, though it should have been the same size. I ran my fingers along the edge until my finger slipped into a little hole, popping up a false bottom.
I raised it carefully … and found myself staring at a dagger crusted in reddish-brown down to its hilt.
No, I realized as a gasp filled my chest. It wasn’t a dagger.
It was a pichim—a long, thin medical blade used to make incisions.
I had seen its kind used before, often to deal with an infection. It almost looked like a dagger, considering how long the blade was, but it was only supposed to be sharp at the top. This one was sharper than the average pichim; it must have been honed with some type of grinding device.
I picked up the blade and turned it around, examining it. Was this the weapon that had stabbed Court Lady Ahnbi in the chest and throat?
A door slid open behind me.
Pulse leaping, I kept my back turned, hoping my figure would hide me as I slipped the bloody tool back where I’d found it, lowered the false bottom, then quietly slid the drawer shut. I then turned, and felt nausea churning in my stomach at the sight of Prince Jangheon.
Water dripped from the brim of his black hat, strands of his hair leaking down his shadowed face. His silk robe was also drenched, the silver dragon embroidery mud-smeared.
“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question.
“I came to—” My mouth was so parched, the words stuck to my tongue. I swallowed hard and tried again. “I came to bring the medicine as promised, Your Highness.”
He did not move, did not utter a single word. Nothing but his shallow breathing and the drip, drip, drip of water falling from his hat disturbed the tense quiet.
“You drink it,” he said softly.
I dug my nails into my palm. “It is for you, Your Highness,” I said as politely as possible. “It will help soothe—”
“You poisoned it, didn’t you?” Water squelched in his boots as he walked toward me. “I saw you closing that drawer.”
“I—I saw it open and so closed it, Your Highness, that is all.”
His icy hand grabbed my chin, pinching it tight as he lifted my head. “Look at me,” he said, and when I did, I saw bloodshot eyes, as though he were burning from within. “The Old Doctrine faction is behind you, aren’t they?” His voice thinned into a sharp whisper. “They knew you looked like my sister, so they placed you close to me, to find out my secrets, my weaknesses.”
My eyes widened. “No, Your Highness!”
“Your father has ties to my rival faction.” His grip tightened, like he was bent on snapping my jaw, and panic blossomed like ice crystals in my chest. “Both of you have testified, haven’t you? That I was indeed outside the palace on the night of the massacre? And now you will tell the Old Doctrine officials about this weapon and say that it was mine. That I killed those girls.”
“Please.” It was difficult to speak with my chin raised so high. “Let me explain—”
“Now I understand.” A twisted, humorless laugh escaped him. “That is why my father—in the midst of hundreds of watching officials—ordered me to leave. It is spies like you that have turned my own father into my greatest enemy.”
With a snarl of disgust, he dropped my chin, and I staggered back. My mind blanked of any attempts to hold on to etiquette and reeled with only one thought: I needed to escape.
And the only option was on the other side of the chamber—the double doors still partway open, revealing the corridor.
I darted a glance at the prince, who now stood in the corner of his chamber, the shadows draping him like a cloak. Then he turned, half in darkness, half lit by the storm raging outside, and he was holding a long, sleek bow.
My stomach dropped. “N-no,” I stammered. “Please, Your Highness. I am not a spy!”
In one smooth motion, he nocked an arrow and pointed the gleaming metal tip my way. “That is what the others said, too. Eunuch Hanch’ae, Nurse Hyo-ok, my own concubine, and the others.”
My knees buckled as I continued to back away. There were others.
“My father is going to kill me, and if I am to die…” He drew his arrow back with practiced ease, and I heard the string stretching, slowly, slowly … “I will take all my enemies with me.”
He released.
Pain sliced my cheek as I dove to the floor, arms raised over my head; a loud thud echoed behind me. With a quick glance, I saw the arrow embedded in the wall—and that I was only a few steps away from the entrance.
While the prince nocked another arrow, I was up on my feet again, dashing for the door. But no matter how fast I ran, the sound followed me.
Bowstring, stretching.
The silence as the prince lined up his shot.
A whistle pierced the air again, pursuing me in my stumble out of the chamber. A powerful thud slammed me to the ground, taking me down by the thick muscle just below my left shoulder, but the pain hardly registered. Of its own accord, my hand moved to snap off the arrow shaft, and my legs kept moving.
Rain and fresh air burst around me the moment I scrambled out of the pavilion and found myself face-to-face with Lady Hyegyoung and the row of court ladies.
“Help me,” I gasped. Disorientation dizzied me; my mind couldn’t quite grasp what was happening. “Please, help me.”
The crowd of women backed away like I was the plague, whimpering and appearing as scared as I knew I should have felt. Cold reality sunk into my bones, and the past stepped into me. I was Nurse Hyo-ok, staring at the three witnesses—Court Lady Ahnbi, Nurse Aram, Nurse Kyunghee. Please, we begged as the Crown Prince approached, help me.
“Go,” one of the court ladies cried. “Or we will all die!”
Lady Hyegyoung, her face drained of all blood, hissed, “You must leave. Run, Nurse Hyeon. Hide yourself and do not be found!”
At the sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor, I hobbled across the courtyard, colliding with the stone wall that enclosed the pavilion. I made my way along it, slipped through a small gate, and found myself in a maze of smaller courtyards, winding pavilions, and shadows. Where could I hide that I would not be found? Who could I turn to when the palace was full of silent witnesses?
A warm hand clasped my wrist, and the panic that surged through me faded at the sight of a familiar face.
Eojin.
Any shred of resentment I might have held against him vanished. As he rushed me through the yard, through a small tunnel in between buildings, I stole glances his way, at his rain-drenched face. My shudders stopped as the warmth of his grip sunk into mine, my limbs no longer trembled, and my legs strengthened as I ran alongside him.
“We mustn’t leave any tracks,” he told me.
He quickly hid his muddy boots, and I realized that I had none, having taken my sandals off before entering the pavilion. I wrenched off my wet socks instead, and after throwing them in a bush, I squeezed the rain out of my clothing. We then hurried down a terrace that wrapped around a long pavilion. The moment we found an unlocked door, we ducked inside and slid it shut as quietly as possible. Eyes fixed on the latticed screen, we waited for a silhouette of an archer to appear.
Eojin reached for his side, only to realize that he was swordless. He must have had to remove it before entering palace grounds. “We need to hide somewhere safer.”
I glanced around, and my eyes latched upon a large folding screen that bore a decorative painting, opened against a wall at the far end of the room. Holding Eojin’s hand, I pulled him along until we were standing behind it, the screen right before our faces, our backs hovering near the wall.
“Our last encounter ended badly,” Eojin spoke in the barest whisper, “so I came here to explain myself to you. Then I heard the commotion.” He turned to me, then his attention froze on my shoulder. “You were shot—”
I placed a finger to my lips. “We must stay calm.”
“Calm?” A shallow breath escaped him as his face turned pale. “You’re bleeding.”
“The more urgent a circumstance,” I said quietly, repeating Nurse Jeongsu’s words, “the calmer we must be.”
Footsteps creaked across the terrace outside.
I held his hands tighter, fear chilling my blood, but this time coupled with the dread that I’d lose Eojin. Even if he had his sword, drawing a weapon against the Crown Prince was punishable by death. We were trapped, with nothing to save us.
The door slowly slid open.
A damp, crisp breeze tumbled in.
I held my breath—we both did—hands growing damp with sweat.
Wind continued to howl in for what felt like an eternity.
Then, at long last, the door slid shut with a forceful clack, and the footsteps stalked off, heavy and determined. More doors slid open and shut in the near distance. A few moments later, the sound of female screams erupted, followed by the scattering of footsteps, like a crowd of court ladies fleeing from a prowling tiger.
Then, nothing.
Rain pitter-pattered against the hanji screens, and soon, even the rain stopped pouring. The shadows in the room did not move, as though they were painted onto the floor.
“Let me see your wound.” Eojin at last spoke.
Reminded of it now, I turned my shoulder to him and became aware of the throbbing pain, like someone had seared me with a burning coal. The arrow seemed to have lodged somewhere between my shoulder and upper arm. The side of my face also stung, and when I touched it, I felt the slippery wetness of blood. Nicked by an arrow. A shudder coursed through me at the memory.
“It’s not a hunting arrow,” Eojin whispered. “I’m sure of that.”
The pain was beginning to become unbearable. Clenching my teeth, I asked, “How can you tell?”
“Because the arrow isn’t lodged too deep. I can see a bit of the arrowhead.” He grasped my hand, gently. “We need to leave and find you a physician.”
We slipped out of the room, treading with quiet steps, pausing every now and then to strain our ears for any warning of the prince’s approach. But it was all grave silence. We were near a gate that led out of the prince’s compound when I saw it—blood smeared across the yard. The bright crimson stain filled my vision, a haze of red that I couldn’t blink away.
When we finally managed to escape out of the palace through Tonghwa Gate, I turned to Eojin and whispered, “It should have been me.”
“It should have been no one,” he said, his voice tight as he led me to a post where his horse was tethered. “No one should have died today.”
“But someone did. And no one will hear of it tomorrow.”
“That is the way of the palace. My father warned me of this.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at the small gate. “If you enter the palace, you either die or you survive and become another monster within its walls … Come,” he whispered, as he lifted me onto the saddle and sat behind me, urging the horse forward. “We need to get you out of the capital.”