Yeong San would have been far less surprised had the prince returned alone.

  Or even if he hadn’t returned at all.

  Why he chose to free an obviously dangerous man whom they had disarmed with such difficulty was something beyond the commander’s understanding.

  The assassin now stayed near the prince, and that one did not seem bothered in the least. What could he possibly have heard that he no longer feared turning his back on him?

  The commander had finally managed to change back into his dried uniform. Now no one could doubt his status or his authority. Jade Butterfly was still reading her novel. The prince made a small gesture with his head, and the commander of the royal guard quietly approached him, trying not to disturb the absorbed listeners.

  “Accompany us to the yard,” the prince said. “There is someone I wish to meet.”

  “How safe is that?” Yeong San tightened his grip on the sword. He disliked how close the assassin was standing to the prince. Judging by the narrowed eyes in return, the hostility was mutual.

  “We risk getting wet,” the prince smiled serenely. “Let us go.”

  The rain still fell, though the thunder had grown rarer and softer. A sizeable puddle had formed beneath the jutting roof. Damp coolness hung in the air.

  “Where is he?” the prince turned to the assassin. That last pointed toward one of the buildings.

  “Why do you trust this man?” Yeong San pressed. The prince might outrank him, but he was noticeably younger — and, presumably, more naive. And the commander bore the king’s order to protect him, even if the prince himself didn’t understand what he was doing.

  “I need to confirm one thing, and then I will answer you,” the prince promised and turned to the freed assassin. “Lead the way.”

  In a dark storage room, lit only by narrow vents under the roof, they found the very same slave who had served them earlier. Now he had dozed off, and, hearing steps, let out a loud yawn and rubbed his eyes with his fists. Yeong San let his shoulders relax slightly. It truly seemed there was no danger here.

  Seeing how many people had come for him — and that one wore a striking military uniform — the poor boy trembled and dropped to his knees.

  “Forgive me, forgive me,” he pleaded, rubbing his palms together. “I didn’t mean to run, truly, I was just scared! Please don’t kill me!”

  “No one wishes to harm you,” the prince assured him. His peasant clothes, however, gave his words too little weight. “I came to ask some questions. Will you answer me, Cudgel?”

  He had learned the insulting slave name of his possible brother from Mu-in. Speaking it aloud felt uncomfortable, but the boy clearly knew no other name.

  “Questions?” the slave looked around nervously, eyes darting between Mu-in, whom he feared, and the officer, who terrified him. “I’ll tell everything, whatever you want. Just please don’t kill me!”

  Mu-in pressed his lips together and turned away. He was ashamed of his brother.

  “I heard you grew up without parents,” the prince said gently and crouched down beside the slave. “Is that so?”

  “Y-yes, Auntie Goat Leg raised me,” he nodded. “Then the masters fed me. Oh, poor old lord, what they did to him! Though he whipped me a lot, especially when I was a child, he wasn’t a bad man.”

  The prince listened patiently to the next burst of lamenting and even reached out to pat the weeping slave’s shoulder. At least in one thing the assassin had been right: this boy posed not the slightest threat in any struggle for power. Even the most desperate faction would never support such an obvious fool. And if he was truly his brother — a prince of royal blood — then for what councilor Choi had turned him into, the traitor deserved to be quartered several times over.

  “Is it true you kept something from your mother?” the prince asked once the sobbing grew quieter. “Will you let me see it?”

  “Her hairpin?” the boy blinked in surprise and wiped his nose on his dirty sleeve. “How do you know, brother?”

  The prince flinched and nearly repeated the question: “How do you know?” A moment later he realized the boy had simply used the familiar address common among peasants, misled by the prince’s plain clothing.

  “So it is true?” the prince urged. “May I see it?”

  “Just make sure to give it back,” the boy frowned comically and began rummaging through his patched rags. “It’s the only thing Mama left me. I think she must’ve been very beautiful.”

  Only Mu-in noticed the ghostly hand that gently touched Hwan’s disheveled head.

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  Yi Hyun, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in what had been revealed before his eyes. Inside the plain grey cotton cloth lay a heavy bundle of thick dark-green silk. The tissue had faded somewhat, but was still recognizable: in Joseon it was used for the robes of senior court ladies. The edge was uneven, clearly cut in haste. And when Yi Hyun unwrapped it, he saw one of the most astonishing ornaments he had ever encountered.

  Qing loved gold, Joseon used silver more often, but Joseon craftsmanship was prized in both realms. Before him lay a thick woman’s hairpin worthy of a queen: entirely gold, topped with the shape of a bird’s wing. Tiny shimmering stones traced the feather patterns, and when the pin had been worn, it must have seemed as though a living bird had become tangled in the hair. That such a treasure, worth a pair of estates, had remained in the hands of a slave for nineteen years was breathtaking and unbelievable.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Hwan ventured, emboldened.

  “Undeniably,” the prince agreed. “This belongs in the royal palace. As do you.”

  The slave stared at him in renewed fright, snatched the hairpin, and backed away.

  “I don’t want to!” he cried.

  “What don’t you want to?” Mu-in asked tiredly. He had just been studying the ornament with great interest over their shoulders. Since that fire he had seen it only once, in passing, and had missed that magical garnet glow.

  “I don’t want them to cut off my peepee!” Hwan wailed. “Don’t make me a eunuch, masters, please!”

  “You misunderstood me,” Yi Hyun assured him and rose to his full height. “As the commander Yeong here can confirm, I am Prince Dojun. Until now, I believed myself the king’s only son, but now I have proof that you are not the slave Cudgel — but my younger brother, and a prince as well, Yi Hwan. You were abducted as a child during the attack on the palace. Your mother was Lady Kim, our father is the same, and you were born under the dragon roof. The time has come to return home and restore your name.”

  “You’re joking about something, masters, but I don’t find it funny,” Hwan backed away further until he pressed against a cabinet.

  “No one is joking,” Mu-in said irritably. Could Hwan not just quietly agree and go with them? Why were they wasting time? “You are a prince. Your place is in the palace. Thank your elder brother and go with him.”

  Saying this turned out unexpectedly difficult, as did entrusting Hwan to someone else, but it truly was the best choice.

  “Is that true?” the Wangwisa commander confirmed, eyes widening as he looked at Prince Dojun.

  “The hairpin became the final proof,” he nodded, smiling. “I think you’re about to fulfill the king’s command even better than expected, Commander Yeong.”

  “Twice as well,” Yeong San said, still incredulous. He looked between the two figures in peasant clothing, amazed he had not noticed earlier. Or rather, that he had noticed, but dismissed it at once. The two princes were indeed alike.

  “Or thrice,” Yi Hyun remarked. The elder brother looked far more dangerous than the younger — but as he had said, the decision belonged to the king. And first, they had to inform the king of the children found.

  “I am not sure I understand correctly,” the commander cautiously glanced at the assassin. The slave clutching the golden hairpin to his chest nodded vigorously.

  As for Mu-in, he became angry at the prince and didn’t even try to hide it.

  “I asked you to keep silent,” he hissed, grimacing.

  “And I said I did not accept that condition,” Yi Hyun smiled brilliantly and turned to Commander Yeong. “These are the children of the late Consort Kim, my brothers. Yi Yun and Yi Hwan. They are being hunted by Chief State Councilor Choi, who will try to kill them just as he tries to kill me, plotting treason. We must reach the palace and meet Father, keeping everything in deepest secrecy.”

  “I’m y-your b-brother?” Hwan stammered in surprise. Mu-in gave a short nod. Yi Hyun’s smile grew even wider.

  “And this is Commander Yeong of the royal guard. His order is to protect us from danger,” Yi Hyun finalized the introductions.

  Mu-in let out a loud snort. Yeong San clenched his teeth and bowed, the tassel of his jeonrip slipping forward and swaying before his eyes. If these people were of royal blood, he truly was bound to guard them with his life. Whatever he might think of them personally.

  “It seems the greatest danger among us is myself,” Mu-in explained his reaction which happened to echo the commander’s thoughts. “I don’t need protection. Better take care of Prince Dojun and Hwan. The councilor will send a pursuit soon, this place will become dangerous.”

  “I can bring only one person into the palace without raising suspicion,” the commander straightened. “And I will send the guard reinforcement as soon as I reach the capital.”

  Yi Hyun looked at his elder brother, clearly expecting him to speak. Mu-in bit his lower lip, thinking.

  “He’ll get the news by evening. Pursuers will be here by dawn. The guard can’t arrive sooner.”

  “They’ll be on horseback,” Yeong San objected.

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving Hwan here,” Mu-in nodded toward the youngest of the three. “He needs to be hidden…”

  “On the contrary, that’s an excellent idea,” Yi Hyun countered, eyes lighting up. “An attack on a prince is considered high treason. The guard can arrest the instigator on the spot, without waiting for an investigation or approval. And that will carry far more weight than mere testimony about a possible treason plot, right?”

  “That is only if the guard arrives in time, and Hwan isn’t harmed,” Mu-in frowned. It stung that his newly found brother dismissed his offer to inform the magistrate so lightly.

  “They will arrive before the end of the hour of the Tiger,” the commander promised. He too disliked using princes as bait — but if this would crush the plot in one stroke, the king’s safety came first.

  “Excuse me,” the slave squeaked from his corner. “You said that this Choi is planning treason against the king? And the king is my — I mean our — papa?”

  “Exactly,” Mu-in confirmed, better than anyone else knowing the twisted mind of the councilor. “He wants to kill us to end the royal line, then seize father’s throne.”

  “That’s bad,” the slave declared. “I always thought my family sold me and tossed me away, but if I really have papa and brothers… Tell me what to do to help catch that freak.”

  “Hwan is right,” Mu-in admitted, torn between duty and duty, attachment and attachment. “First, we must prevent the coup. The Minister of Justice and the Minister of War both hang on the councilor’s every word. Keep that in mind.”

  “The royal guard obeys only me and the king,” Commander Yeong assured them. And could not resist adding — half test, half barb: “What remains of it.”

  “If you have a spare quiver of arrows,” Mu-in pretended not to notice the remark, “I could use it.”

  “Very well, I’ll give you mine,” the commander nodded. “Stay here so I know where to find you.”