16. Daehyun
Daehyun secured the saddle tohis horse, recovered by Wonsik from the forest, then he paused at the sound of a door sliding open. Looking over his shoulder, he watched Iseul trudge out, with the shaman holding her with a steadying grip. The girl had changed into a clean white robe given to her by the older woman. She had not yet braided her hair, so it hung down her shoulders in a stream of black.
“You look like a vengeful ghost,” he murmured, adjusting the seat.
“And you are the sort I would furiously haunt for all eternity,” Iseul retorted.
He was too tired to form a response. When the girl arrived beside him, he held her waist and lifted her onto the saddle, disturbed by how light she was. He had heard the king took food from the people, and the cruelty of the king’s greed struck him now. Iseul felt as brittle as a twig. Once seated behind her, Daehyun felt a strange new anger simmering in his chest—
“Stop,” he ordered himself.
He did not want to care. Indifference was all that had kept him sane.
“Well?” Iseul called out. “Shall we go?”
Soon they were off, speeding across the grassland. He tried to keep his distance from the bundle of female nuisance before him, but it was impossible on a single saddle. Iseul wiggled and stretched and twisted around to look behind, nearly elbowing him once or twice. “Where is Wonsik?” she called out over the blast of wind.
“He rode ahead to scout for soldiers.”
When they reached the Han River, shimmering under the sun, he reined the horse into a steady trot as they followed the river upstream. Within two hours, he spotted the main road in the distance, dotted with people heading toward the capital.
“Have you made up your mind?” he asked. “Regarding what we discussed?”
She stiffened. After a long pause, she said, “Why would I turn down your proposition? I have two paths that might lead to my sister now. My bargain with the king—and my bargain with you. One of them will hopefully lead back to her.”
“So you will continue with that foolhardy notion?”
“I saw the king; I saw His Majesty’s fury and humiliation. I’m certain he would trade my sister for Nameless Flower. He has a thousand women. He could spare one.”
“But would you risk your life to find out?”
She swept her hair over her shoulder, and as she braided it, he tried not to notice the length of her neck. “People whisper that if there is ever a revolt, it will be the heartbroken husbands and fathers who take down the king.”
“And the sisters,” he whispered.
He watched the way her fingers curled into a fist, the way an angry flush crawled up her collar, along her neck.
“And the sisters,” she affirmed, and then glanced back at him.
A strange sensation stirred in his chest as he held her gaze. Then he quickly looked away and spoke no more to her for the rest of their journey.