When Yi Hyun came to, the bodies in the courtyard were gone.

  For some reason he was still alive, though the throbbing pain in his arm left no doubt that everything had been real. His clothes were soaked through, his stomach growled with hunger.

  On the other side of the yard he saw a stove and several tall food jars. He looked around, noticed no one, and went closer. He hated the thought of stealing from his own subjects, but risking the continuation of the dynasty over personal pride would have been foolish.

  And, truth be told, he was very hungry.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” a sharp female voice shrilled. The prince jumped, dropping the jar lid back with a loud clatter.

  The innkeeper stepped out of the servants’ annex, hands on hips, clicking her tongue in disapproval. Yi Hyun flushed.

  “Forgive me,” he bowed his head. “I’m very hungry, but I have nothing to pay with right now.”

  The innkeeper wrinkled her nose comically and snorted.

  “Nothing! A well-mannered lad should come and ask, not steal from the kitchen. What, did you grow up without a mother? Did no one teach you?”

  “She died when I was three,” Yi Hyun admitted, embarrassed. What did that matter? “I am sorry.”

  “Oh? Truly?” The innkeeper’s tone softened at once; she clapped her hands together. “So you’re a poor orphan, are you? And what about your father?”

  “Seriously ill,” Yi Hyun answered, truthfully.

  “So you spent all your money on medicine and now you’re starving? You should’ve said so, poor thing.” She abruptly stopped seeing him as a loafer to be beaten with sticks. Now it made sense why a young, strong-looking fellow couldn’t pay even a single mun for a bowl of soup. “Have you seen where that friend of yours went? He promised to carry trays, but he must’ve fallen asleep. I’ll feed you, and you take this tray and go to the hall. The guests surely want their drinks by now. Ask what each one needs, run back here, I’ll prepare everything, and meanwhile you’ll eat before delivering the orders. A handful of rice can always be honestly earned, remember that.”

  “I will, thank you,” Yi Hyun replied, blushing again. He felt ashamed that he’d tried to steal instead of thinking of earning his food. He wasn’t used to thinking that way. Maybe he should speak with commoners more often.

  Buoyed by the promise of lunch, the prince picked up the dark, sticky tray and returned to the hall.

  That assassin was sitting calmly at the table, sipping long-cold tea with a vacant expression. Yi Hyun froze.

  The assassin cast him a brief, grim glance but, for some reason, didn’t leap up to kill him. Perhaps there were too many people here? Though remembering the fight in the courtyard, a few merchants and a gisaeng with her companion would hardly pose a problem to him.

  Why hadn’t the assassin finished him when he had the chance? Has someone startled him?

  Yi Hyun’s stomach growled. He set his jaw and approached the gisaeng’s table to ask what she and her companion wished to order. The man beside her had a sword, so Yi Hyun made sure to stand at a distance.

  “What an interesting young master,” Jade Butterfly remarked once the servant had left.

  “Young master?” the commander of the royal guard scoffed. After the scuffle upstairs he needed a drink, and the servant had arrived just in time. “Isn’t that the vagrant who slept in the corner?”

  “He has fair skin, long fingers, a straight back,” the gisaeng whispered, leaning closer. “And a charming accent. Northern, I think?”

  “He had an accent?” Yeong San’s eyes widened. He hadn’t spared a thought for the soaked, muddy servant before. Who could he be? A Qing spy? A surviving companion of the prince? The prince himself? “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “With him right there?” Jade Butterfly said, surprised, pouting. “He might get frightened. And I’d like to check something first.”

  A little later the servant returned, carrying a new kettle for them and a bottle for the merchants.

  “Do me a small favor,” Jade Butterfly said, placing a couple of pierced coins on his tray. “My friends are entertaining guests upstairs. Check if they need anything. Then say I asked you to bring me a book, they’ll show you my bundle. I need ‘Seven Springs and One Winter’ with the green cover. Don’t mix it up. I promised to read aloud for the patrons.”

  “Of course,” the servant said, set the merchants’ bottle down, and went upstairs.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I didn’t hear any accent from one word,” the commander frowned and followed him with his gaze.

  “We’ll wait until he brings the book,” the gisaeng suggested with a soft smile.

  Contrary to his expectations, upstairs Yi Hyun found neither a feast nor an orgy. Two gisaeng and two young nobles were attending to a third, chatting quietly about news from the capital. He checked what they needed, asked about the bundle of books, found the required novel among a stack of silly romances, and brought it downstairs.

  “Wonderful!” Jade Butterfly exclaimed, clapped her hands, and tugged Yi Hyun down by the sleeve. “Sit, I’ll pour you some tea in thanks.”

  It felt odd, but her companion didn’t object, so Yi Hyun sat on a worn cushion. The innkeeper had given him a bowl of soup with rice and greens beforehand, and he didn’t mind washing it down with tea from a beautiful woman’s hand.

  “This is a tale of seven beauties trying to melt the heart of a scholar,” the gisaeng was explaining to her companion, flipping through the pages. Yi Hyun savored a moment of calm and the sharp taste of cheap tea. “The hero is a Sungkyunkwan student, so it is full of Confucian sayings. Even the title is written in Chinese characters, did you notice? You need a proper education to read it. I am impressed that the young master didn’t pay attention to the cover color and brought exactly what I asked for!”

  Yi Hyun flinched and glanced at the book. The cover wasn’t green but yellow — he had indeed missed that detail. The gisaeng held him by the sleeve, preventing him from getting up.

  The commander leaned closer, studying the servant’s face for any hint of family resemblance. But the plain clothes deceived him: the youth looked more like the other servant who’d carried food earlier than like a king.

  “We mean no harm,” Jade Butterfly said softly. From the outside it looked like idle chat. “But if the young master needs help, perhaps he’ll want to speak to the officer?”

  Yeong San realized she spoke of him and pulled a tag from his sleeve. Indeed, his simple outfit wasn’t fit to earn anyone’s trust. If the boy were a Qing spy, he would discover it soon enough. If he were one of the survivors, on the other hand…

  After some hesitation, Yi Hyun took the tag, examined it, glanced at the sword, and finally nodded to himself. If so many people had already recognized him, there was nothing left but to trust one of them. He drew the wrapped seal from inside his clothes and warily lifted a corner of the thin cloth.

  “Prince!” Yeong San breathed, flooded with sudden relief and joy. He began to rise to give the proper bow, but Yi Hyun frowned and shook his head.

  “Don’t draw attention,” Yi Hyun whispered, still hardly believing he’d found the help sent for him. “There are assassins here.”

  “In this case let us drink more tea and talk calmly,” the gisaeng proposed, reaching to fill the commander’s cup. “My name is Jade Butterfly. I am ready to serve however I can.”

  Mu-in paid the conversation no mind — though he wasn’t sitting far, he wasn’t listening. His entire life had slipped out from under him.

  He had failed to kill the prince.

  Twice.

  It was time to admit it.

  The councilor had tried to kill Hwan and him, but Hwan escaped. That meant nothing held Mu-in to the councilor anymore. The chain had snapped, and the dog could consider himself free. He should take his brother somewhere safe, where he wouldn’t be anyone’s hostage. And then he could finally begin the long-awaited hunt for Chief State Councilor Choi.

  Naturally, as soon as the councilor learned the brothers lived, he would hunt them. Their ink portraits would hang in every village, and tugs, greedy for promises of silver, would never leave them be. So Mu-in’s only hope for a new life lay in killing the councilor first.

  But how?

  In twenty years of mutual hatred they had learned each other too well.

  The councilor could predict his steps and prepare in advance. What was Mu-in’s first impulse? To flee with his younger brother, a runaway slave accused of high treason?

  Mu-in could easily imagine the councilor at home, a screen behind his back, wearing his tall, many-tiered indoor hat and giving orders to his underlings:

  “What are you doing, you fools?” he would be irritated. “We must find whoever commanded the attack on the prince and destroy him. Summon the Minister of Justice, let him send out the portraits. And station guards at every port — the dog that snapped his chain will try to escape.”

  So running was impossible. While the councilor scoured the roads and sealed the ports, Mu-in would have to move toward him.

  But he needed to hide Hwan somewhere.

  He couldn’t stay at this inn where he has already been seen. Also, who knew the two brothers had met? Maybe he should bribe the gisaeng to hide the runaway slave in their gibang? Stash him in an empty cave in the forest and frighten him into staying put, not daring to stick his nose out?

  Mu-in rubbed his temples. He had to decide quickly, but no solution felt right.

  The two gisaeng and one of the noblemen came downstairs. Jade Butterfly stood and loudly announced she was about to read the novel. Merchants began gathering cushions to arrange them for the patrons around the little platform she pointed to. Mu-in shrugged and rose as well, intending to join the listeners. He needed to think of something else for a moment. The prince avoided him but still pretended to be a poor servant. Mu-in felt strangely drawn to him: whether to see fear in his eyes again or simply to look at him more closely. That was a feeling he should probably resist.

  Guests started to settle down. Jade Butterfly took her book, gathered her fluffy skirts, and walked slowly toward the platform. Like at some expensive party in a real gibang, she smiled at the guests, greeted each one she passed, her skirts rustling with a floral scent. Merchants grinned broadly and tossed crude compliments.

  Mu-in deliberately looked away and tried not to pay her attention. He was unused to women’s company.

  So when the gisaeng stumbled right beside him, her sheer sleeves fluttering as she pitched forward, it was extremely unlucky.

  Naturally, Mu-in leapt up and caught the girl before she struck the edge of the wooden table. It could be that, stunned by her sweet scent and living warmth, he held her a heartbeat longer than he should have. And that moment was enough for someone to seize and carry off his sword, while another guest pressed a bared blade to his throat.

  A clever trap.

  Mu-in had to admit he was caught. Who could know the inn guests were in league? Mu-in could still start a fight and break through to the exit. He still had a dagger in his sleeve and a throwing knife stuck in the belt behind his back. He could wound a few men, seize his horse, and vanish into the storm.

  But Hwan was still waiting for him in the shed, and the councilor would not leave him alone…

  And, by the way, who exactly were these seemingly random travelers working for?