Chapter Forty- One
VIOLET
Once more, we make the trip back to the palace. A heavy presence hovers over me from behind. Weighing me down. I lag behind Mingi and Iseul, mostly ignoring their conversations that fill the silence.
After a week of searching from sunup to sundown, we have failed to find so much as a scratch to hint at Joon’s whereabouts. It’s as if he never existed at all. Even Star Runner seems to drag their feet in disappointment.
I promised to find him, and day after day, I fail to keep my word.
“—need a contingency plan. The officials are upset that a new Minister of Shields has not yet been appointed. A few of them have already requested an audience with him to discuss the matter.”
Pieces of their conversation reach me as they adjust their pace to prevent me from falling too far behind. I listen with mild disinterest. Those in positions of authority will always find something to take issue with the hopes that the solution will bring them more power.
“Demons take them, they frustrate me to no end,” Iseul snaps, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Even when they are told he is recovering from defending them against the Traitor King.”
The two of them continue talking among themselves as they flank me, half a horse length ahead.
“It was only ever meant to be a temporary solution to buy us a few days. We are pushing it.” Mingi shakes his head. “Infighting will begin unless they see someone on the throne. Arum needs an active ruler, and soon.”
“But who?” Iseul asks. “There is no protocol for a situation like this. Not just anyone can take up that mantle.”
“I know,” Mingi bites out, though it’s clear his frustration is not aimed at her.
Blinking, I sit straighter in my saddle. Their conversation finally succeeds in pulling me from my dejection.
The night Joon and I had dinner, I wanted to share something I’d found during my research. Except we were interrupted, but I never got the chance. It had completely slipped my mind after everything came to a head. And ever since, I have been singularly focused on finding him.
“I know what to do,” I blurt, cutting them off.
Both turn to me with matching expressions of bewilderment.
My heart races in a way that makes me feel alive without the pain that used to bring the fear of death with it.
If I’m right—and I know I am—then this will give us all the time in the world to search for Joon without the pressure or demands of politics.
I urge my horse into a run, racing toward the palace.
Within seconds, the thunder of hooves follows.
Once we are inside, I will explain everything at once.
Soon, we are bearing down on the palace gate. The guards scramble to allow us entry when they realize we’re not slowing.
At the stables, the young groom who always seems to know when he’s needed ahead of time already has the reins in hand before I dismount.
He nods to signal that he will take care of Star Runner, leaving me free to run as fast as my legs will carry me through the grounds and toward the Northern Court.
Wisps of hair cling to my face, damp with sweat. Scholars murmur at the commotion I cause, quickly moving out of my way as I completely disregard library decorum.
While Mingi and Iseul catch up, I gather what I need, grabbing the royal family’s most recent record on my way to the book that holds the key to everything.
It’s in the exact spot I found it, leaning at the same angle as it was the day I found it.
The fine layer of dust that settled on the exposed front cover is undisturbed, as if I’d never touched it.
“What is this all about?” Iseul asks between gasps.
At the same time as Mingi asks, “What are we doing here?”
I shove the first book into his hands, opening it and flipping to where the torn edges run down the center crease.
“Look.” I run my finger down the fold. “A page is ripped out.”
Mingi stares at me with a straight face. “You should have given it to one of the scholars—”
“Why would someone need to remove a page?” I ask pointedly as I flip back one page to Joon’s name. “To hide something. And look here, it says, ‘first son,’ not just ‘son.’”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Iseul says softly with a hint of guilt.
I lean in. “They had a second son,” I whisper, then straighten, waiting for them to understand.
“Violet,” Iseul says my name slowly. She wrings her hands and exchanges a look with her brother. “He died the night of the curse with the rest of the royal family.”
Turning, I grab the book behind me. “Something else is going on here. I first picked this up thinking it was something else.”
I open the cover and quickly flip to the story. But before I can show them, the words rise in a puff of glittering smoke as they begin to fade from the parchment. Then the pages themselves. On and on until my open palms are empty.
By the end of it, my hands are shaking, holding nothing but air.
“What did it say?” Iseul whispers.
I tell them what I remember of the story, comparing it to the nearly identical way the Traitor King spoke of Joon’s parents, the monster attack, and how the prince sent his brother away.
Iseul sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s too convenient for it to be coincidental, especially since books don’t simply evaporate into stardust.”
Mingi hums thoughtfully. “I believe you’re right. As the oldest prince, Sameun would have normally been the heir, but he lacked sufficient power because he could not form a demon bond upon his birth.”
The siblings fill in the gaps of what I don’t know, building off each other’s thoughts.
“He obviously forced a bond with one before returning.” She shudders. “Even if it was the only way to access his guardian, he had to know he would become a shadouk.”
Mingi nods. “The past is absolute and cannot be rewritten, as history is the source of the guardians’ magic. No mortal magic has the power to take it from them.”
Iseul grabs my hand in both of hers. “The Traitor King couldn’t just remove the young prince from the record books. He had to erase Prince Eojin from the memories of everyone who ever knew him. He couldn’t change the past, so the curse could only move the memories somewhere else.”
Another thought occurs to me—I might be grasping at straws, but if there’s even the slightest possibility that any detail from my time here can help, then I will go over every detail, no matter how minor it seems.
“You said I had Joon’s power in me and that there is a chance I could see through glamours?”
“I did,” Iseul agrees. Her brow furrows at the sudden change in topic.
“How would I recognize it?”
She presses her lips together. “I suppose it could look like they shimmer in certain lights.”
“Then I know where to find him.” I grin and shift closer. “Joon and I rode through a town to the south, and there was a young man hanging a sign. At the time, I thought it was from the sunset, but I think it was a glamour.” I scrunch my nose, trying to remember the name. “I think it was… Lummi.”
Mingi flips to a different page in the book he still holds. He turns it around to show Iseul and me. On the late queen’s page, he points to the name of the place she grew up in before she married the late king.
It is the same.
“Something tells me you are correct,” Mingi murmurs. He snaps the book shut as a scribe passes by and catches him by the arm. “A page has been removed from this one.”
The scribe takes it with both hands and bows. “I will see it restored immediately.”
“Have them double-check to make sure no other records are missing. Then add the details of the Traitor King’s rule and his crimes.”
“Yes, of course.” The man bows again, then hurries off.
I don’t think about the implications of this other prince becoming king. It can be sorted out once we bring Joon home.
I lead Iseul and Mingi through the streets of Lummi. The damp chill of night still lingers on the morning air.
We left the palace as soon as the first rays of sunlight stretched over the horizon and forced the wild demons into hiding for the day.
Food shops are already open for the day, preparing for the rush that will come once the businesses selling other goods open their doors.
I stop across the road from a modest bookstore with a sign hanging over the sidewalk that reads: The Dragon’s Tome. The newly painted letters are still bright and vibrant with color. Even the name is an obvious clue.
Two windows, situated on either side of a narrow door, display books on risers.
An arm reaches over the top and replaces one of the books with another before disappearing into the shadows within.
Motioning for the others to follow, I cross and push open the door. The bell above the entry rings our arrival.
“I’m sorry, we’re not open yet. If you would—” the young man trails off when he turns toward us.
For a heartbeat, I am too stunned to breathe.
The prince’s features are nearly identical to Joon’s.
So much so that I feel as though I am staring at a younger version of him.
But where Joon’s eyes are two different shades of blue, sharper, deeper, and shadowed with the weight of the curse, his brother’s eyes are large and bright, still unwearied by the cruelty of the world.
His gaze skips from me to Iseul and Mingi, then, with a frown, settles back on me.
“Prince Eojin,” I say, stepping forward. “I am Violet Hawthorn, and this—”
“I know who they are,” he interrupts, though not unkindly. His voice is soft with awe. “I was wondering if or when someone would come.”
“We need to speak with you about an urgent matter, Your Highness,” I say before the moment can become a happy reunion.
During the ride here, Iseul and Mingi reminisced about their days with the two princes and the antics all four of them would get into.
Prince Eojin nods and gestures to a table against the wall with cushioned bench seats. “Let us sit and speak as equals. I have not been a prince for a long time now.”