Page 41 of King Foretold
“That isnottrue, Ethan. You must know that.” I dig my nails into my palms.That manipulative old snake.General Bak has been guilt-tripping his grandson this whole time. “Your grandfather has always wanted vengeance, hasn’t he? You just provided him with a convenient excuse to exact it.”
“I ...” He wipes a hand over his face. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Youknowwhat your mother would’ve wanted. You know her truest self. She shared her memories with you.” I sit up and face him. “She would never have wanted you to start a war. She wouldn’t have wanted the people of the Kingdom of Mountains—herpeople—to suffer.” I reach out to take his hand, then pat him awkwardly on his arm instead. “You’re like your mother, you know. You’re kind and full of life. War is not the answer.”
“You’re right,” he says with a determined nod. “And we found a way to infiltrate—”
I’m knocked onto my back so fast and so hard that I bang my head on the wood floor of the pagoda. I have no idea what’s happening because Ethan’s huge body is sprawled over mine, shielding me from danger.
“Get off me.” I push at his shoulders to zero effect. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Stay down,” he growls.
“You fucking have tostopusing your body as my personal shield.” My rant turns into a sharp yelp when he rolls both of us behind a pillar and bodily props me up against it. “I can take care of my—Ethan!”
His eyes widen as he stares down at the arrow shaft sticking out of his shoulder. I push him against the pillar, switching places with him, and peek my head out to scan the woods for enemies. But I draw back as an arrow whooshes a hair’s breadth away from the tip of my nose. The assailant is an expert marksman. He is nowhere near the pagoda, but his aim is deadly.
“How are you hurt?” I crouch low in front of Ethan. I’m small enough that the pillar actually hides most of my body. “Shouldn’t that thing have bounced off you?”
“I don’t know.” He rips the arrow out with a grunt, and his wound starts closing immediately. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” If my voice rises any higher, dogs will come running. The word of power prickles on my back, but I can’t let my bloodlust overtake my logic. Ethan needs me. I capture his face between my hands and peer into his eyes. “Do you have blurry vision? Are you having difficulty breathing? Does your mouth taste metallic?”
“The arrow wasn’t poisoned.” Ethan grasps my wrists and tugs my hands off his face. “I need you to stay here while I go check things out.”
“That’s precious.” I laugh in his face despite the grim circumstances. “We don’t have time to play around. I’ll take left. You take right.”
“Fine.” He scowls but knows better than to argue with me. “Ready?”
“Go.” I shoot out from behind the wooden pillar and jump over the pagoda’s railing. With a muttered curse, Ethan takes off in the other direction.
I hike up my floor-length chima as I run and inelegantly unsheathe my hwando from my thigh strap. It’s not as cool as summoning my weapon with a subtle flex of my hands, but I haven’t mastered weapon summoning yet. I couldn’t risk slashing my palms by calling my hwando blade-side down.
A flash of beige flits through the trees.Shit.Bunching up my skirt to one side, I chase the assailant. The trees are thinning—we’re in a garden, not a forest—and we’ll soon hit the streets. I can’t endanger the civilians.
In a burst of speed, I catch up to the bad guy and grab him by the scruff of his shirt. He’s dressed like a commoner, in a hanbok made of rough, unbleached fabric, but he has a quiver slung across his back and a bow in his grip. He’s our marksman.
Using both of our momenta, I spin him away from the direction of the streets and slam his back into a tree. The male is so big that his shoulders almost span the width of the trunk, and I have to tilt my head way up to look into his eyes. But when I do, my face goes slackwith shock. His lips tremble as tears slide down his gaunt cheeks. He’s ... afraid.
“It’s okay.” What am I saying? This bastard shot Ethan with an arrow. But when his tears come faster, all my rage drains out of me. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I’m s ... sorry,” he stutters, then his eyes widen when he sees something behind me.
“Who sent you?” Ethan raises the golden axe and the silver axe, ready to strike.
“Y ... you ...” The male stares at the axes and slowly shakes his head. “How ...”
“Ethan, he’s scared.” I release my hold on the male and take a step back. “I don’t think ...”
“Sunny!” Ethan pushes me behind him as the assailant draws an arrow from his quiver in a lightning-fast move.
But the male doesn’t reach for his bow. He buries the arrowhead deep into his own neck.
“No,” I shout, my hand uselessly reaching out for the assailant.
Ethan catches the male as he slides down the tree and lowers him to the ground. With my limbs wobbly from shock, I stumble over to kneel next to them. I take a calming breath and focus my gaze on the male. His green life force wavers weakly around him. He’s ... a being of Mountains.
“I . . . didn’t know. I would never . . . Not even for . . . ,” the assailant mutters, his head lolling listlessly. “My children . . . so hungry . . . Even so . . . I would never . . .”
