Chapter Fifteen
VIOLET
I wander through a crystal garden along the wall that separates the Northern and Central courts.
Flowers, bushes, and trees are carved from the clear stone, each piece cut and polished to perfection until every surface glints with the appearance of ice.
The early afternoon sun shines through the curves and facets, throwing rainbows over the ground.
The stunning display does little to lift my spirits. It’s been days since I’ve seen the prince. After we returned, he walked me to my quarters, leaving me with a gruff word of thanks, and has been avoiding me ever since.
It’s hard not to be frustrated or hurt over being ignored when he doesn’t have a use for me.
“Is this not helping?” Iseul asks, leaning forward to peer at my face. She frowns. “I thought for sure it would.”
“It is beautiful. It’s just…” I hesitate, searching for wording she will understand that won’t trigger the silencing effect of the bargain. “How can I fulfill my role when he hides? I don’t seem to understand anything about him.”
Iseul taps her bottom lip, humming in thought.
“I’m not sure.” She hums thoughtfully. “Why don’t we talk through it…
But not on an empty stomach. If we go to the kitchens, the chef will give you one of Joon’s favorite treats if you ask.
” Iseul has taken to calling him informally by his name when we are alone.
“Perhaps knowing what he likes will be a good place to start.”
I highly doubt the prince’s favorite snack will offer the kind of help I need, but I suspect it’s really an excuse for Iseul to sneak some for herself. “Then, what are we waiting for?”
Iseul takes me by the wrist and practically drags me out of the garden. She releases her grip and composes herself the moment we reach the common areas where we might be seen.
I much prefer when she’s free to be herself around me, rather than adhering to hierarchy protocol.
The kitchens are quiet, with only the head chef and three other cooks prepping for the next meal.
Two women are at a stone counter along the wall, rolling dough.
A young man stands between the stove’s two firepits, adding various ingredients to different pots.
Another counter is laden with jars of pastes, seasonings, quick-growing herbs in pots with several bowls filled with others freshly picked from the garden, and piles of vegetables.
Several waist-high, dark brown clay pots line one of the walls. They are the kind meant for aging the mouth-watering sauces and marinades I’ve tasted in every dish I’ve had here.
Iseul skips inside. “Chef Jeong!”
The head chef looks up from his work of slicing a large slab of meat. The only thing giving away his age is the gray that streaks the black hair at his temples. A warm smile sweeps across his face, etching small lines at the corners of his eyes.
He’s quick to set his knife down and round the table as Iseul all but barrels into him. He catches her, enveloping her in a hug. “It’s good to see you, too, Iseul.”
She pulls back, batting her long lashes. “We were feeling a little hungry. Do you think we could get a snack?”
“Strawberry or blueberry lemon?” Chef Jeong asks with laughter in his voice.
I was right about this being an excuse. And this is obviously not the first time Iseul’s done this. Not that I mind. The aroma of a dozen different dishes being prepared has made me realize how hungry I am.
Iseul brings a hand to the side of her mouth and whispers, “We were hoping for… the special one.”
He chuckles and goes into the back, returning with two small, wrapped bundles. He holds them out only to pull them out of reach when she goes for them. “Keep this between us. I don’t need half the palace expecting similar favors.”
“We promise,” Iseul says with a playful wink.
Chef Jeung turns his attention on me. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before,” he says politely, though I’m sure he knows who I am by the simple fact that I am the only one in the palace with round, human ears.
“This is Violet—Lady Hawthorn. She’s the prince’s new bride.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lady.”
His bow is interrupted by a cry coming from the other side of the kitchen.
The young man at the stove cradles his hand against his chest, wrapped in a tea towel. The others all gather around him, trying to examine the damage.
My feet carry me past the man and over to the gathered cooks before I realize what I’m doing.
“I grabbed the wrong pot,” Myung sniffles. Up close, he’s even younger than I first thought. “It burns.”
“Will it heal quickly?” I ask.
The gathered cooks lift their heads, seeing me for the first time, gaping in bewilderment.
“No,” a young woman says. “I’m afraid no one here possesses that kind of magic. Myung will need a healer for something this bad.” She holds him against her
“Myung,” Chef Jeung says with a mixture of worry and weariness. He looks to the woman on the young man’s other side. “Hana, please go fetch her. Bitna has everything under control. The rest of you can get back to work.”
“Have him put his hand in cool water until the healer gets here,” I say. Then, on a whim, I ask, “Is there a clean bowl I can use?”
Chef Jeung jerks his chin toward the counter behind me. “Help yourself to anything you need, My Lady.”
I pick up the nearest one and help myself to several herbs. I add several things to the bowl, crushing them before breaking off a thick leaf from a plant I recognize. A jell-like substance oozes from the broken end. I squeeze it into my mixture and stir until it forms a smooth paste.
Iseul, Bitna, and Myung gather closer, watching in fascination.
“Can I see your hand?” I ask Myung.
He holds his hand tighter to himself.
“You can trust her,” Iseul urges.
He glances at Bitna, who shrugs, then nods.
Taking his hand, I smear the salve over the angry-looking skin. Myung sighs in relief.
“You’ll want to keep it wrapped for the next few days while it heals. Make sure you change your bandages out once a day—more if they get dirty. And reapply more of the paste. I’ll leave it unbandaged for now so your physician can examine it.”
A movement in the doorway catches my attention. I look up to find the scowling prince just outside with his demon perched on his shoulder. No one else seems to be aware of his presence. I excuse myself and go to him as he slips from view.
The prince waits for me further down the hall. In this light, he’s paler than the last time I saw him. A scowl twists his lips.
He is upset. Again.
Wordlessly, he turns and strides around the corner. The silent order to follow is clear enough. He pulls me into a side room with at least forty long, low tables lined up in neat rows. We are alone in the servant’s dining hall.
He slides the door shut and whirls on me. “What are you doing?”
The anger in his voice takes me by surprise. I take half a step back, but he advances by two. “What do you mean? I’m not doing anything.”
“That is not what it looked like to me.” The prince continues to close the distance between us. “What if they say something? What if someone else saw you?”
I shake my head and stand my ground, refusing to let him back me into a corner. “I did nothing wrong.”
“Nothing wrong?” He barks a humorless laugh.
“You are supposed to be playing the role of future queen. How would it look if word got out that you spend time in the kitchens working as if you were one of the staff? Is it not enough for them all to hate me? Do they need to think my magic is so weak that it would choose a servant for their queen?”
“He was injured, and I wanted to help. I didn’t think—”
“That’s the problem. You didn’t think.”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”
He’s right. It’s not as if he hadn’t warned me to be mindful of my words and actions.
“The last thing I need is for my people to rise up and rebel against me. Need I remind you that if you fail to perform your duties, then so will I?” With that, he turns on his heel and strides away. Imugi hisses at me before following.
Even if the threat was unnecessary, he is justified in being upset.
There’s not much I must do to hold up my end, yet I’ve already made a mistake.
I sigh. I can’t change what happened, but I can resolve to do better.
About to turn back, I stop, realizing the prince never said why he was looking for me.
I suppose I should find him and see what he needs—considering how I might as well not exist outside my usefulness. Besides, there’s something I want to discuss with him as well.
Taking a right when I leave the dining hall, I walk until the end, stopping at the cross section. I’m not sure where to go from here. There are countless places he could have gone.
With no other choice but to find someone who knows, I start walking, turning down corridors at random until I end up so lost that there’s not a single other person around. I groan and lean against the windowed wall. Warm sunlight filters in through the leaded glass, warming my back.
“What an unexpected pleasure,” a man says, his voice is one I could never forget.
My head snaps up at the familiar sound of the interim king’s voice. I push off the wall and bow.
“Now, now. What did I tell you the last time we met? There’s no need for ceremony when it is just the two of us.”
“Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”
The king holds an arm across his abdomen, using his other hand to gesture down the hall. A silent invitation to walk together. “I am glad I ran into you.”
“You are?” I can’t imagine what he would want with me.
He laughs as if the reason should be obvious. “I noticed you haven’t made many appearances since your arrival. I was worried something might have happened to you.” He places a peculiar emphasis on the last part.
“I… had a slight fever.” The lie slips out of its own accord.
I’m unsure why I feel the need to hide the truth from him. Joon mentioned that he wanted our trip to go unnoticed, so I must assume that means everyone. Even the king. At least until he says otherwise.
After the prince’s earlier threat, I cannot risk our deal further. My parents’ lives, and those of countless other innocents, depend on my success. Nothing is worth failing them.
“It’s nothing to worry about. It was just from the overexcitement of everything catching up to me. I am well now.”
The king raises a brow and hums thoughtfully. “Then something must be weighing heavily on your mind.”
I need to choose my words carefully. Too many lies will make him doubt every word from my mouth, and I do not want to find out what consequences come from offending the king.
“Oh, I was looking for the prince, but I am afraid I’ve gotten all turned around.”
“Ah, I am glad to hear it is something easily remedied. I saw him not more than a few moments ago. I believe he was heading toward his private study behind the library.” He reaches out and takes my hand, clasping it between both of his.
“But before you leave, I would like to say that I am pleased you are hale and whole. I worried you might be in a much worse state.”
Unease settles over me like a damp blanket. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow to breathe past it. “Please don’t worry yourself on my account. As you can see, I am fine.”
A wave of nausea rolls over me, as my heart squeezes painfully. I fight to keep the episode at bay. Then, as quickly as it came on, it disappears, leaving behind a sharp pinch in my chest.
The king straightens, his gaze unfocused as he stares off into the distance. “Perhaps if they lived, he might not have turned out this way…” he murmurs to himself so quietly that I almost miss it. “Their screams were the worst sound I have ever heard.”
“Your Majesty?”
He clears his throat, shaking off the thought. “Oh, nothing, my dear. Only that our Crown Prince has a reputation for being… a bit cruel,” he says almost apologetically, as if cruelty is some small thing.
The king isn’t wrong. Even the human cities whisper about Prince Joon’s frozen heart and callous acts.
But since the day he tracked me down, I have seen pieces of him that do not match what everyone believes.
He is temperamental to be sure… though I am still figuring out if I am seeing the real him or if he is hiding his cruel side because I have something he wants.
“I thank you for your concern. I will be as careful as I can.”
“That is all I ask. Now,” he says, finally releasing my hand. “If you still wish to find him, continue this way to the Northern Court. The library is in the building on the far left.”
We part ways, and I wait for the king to disappear before resuming my search for the prince.
I pass the open arched gate, and to my dismay, I find a series of connected buildings lined up against the western wall.
At least I have a general idea of where to begin.
Servants hurry through the halls too fast for me to stop them for directions. Just when I think I am lost again, I spot Mingi at the end of the hall, standing guard outside a door. I hurry over.
Mingi dips his chin in an obligatory polite greeting as he remains vigilant at his post.
“I request an audience with the prince.”
Wordlessly, Mingi moves to the side, pulling the door open, then closing it behind me.
Joon is at his desk with a stack of rolled documents on either side of him. He moves the paper he just finished reading to one pile and reaches for one from the other. He freezes, hand hovering in the air, when he sees me.