Chapter Thirty-Eight
JOON
The jagged glass rests against my palm, coated with my blood and hers. Rough edges grind as I press it into place.
Blue light shines behind the cracks, growing brighter and brighter.
The sheer intensity forces me to shield my eyes.
It retreats back into the glass with a sharp hiss of air.
Between one heartbeat and the next, a ring of power explodes out.
The force of it throws me back. I land several feet from the water’s edge.
My head cracks against the hard-packed earth. Stars explode behind my eyes.
The weight of invisible shackles falls away. It’s as if I’ve spent a lifetime pinned at the bottom of a lake beneath a boulder that has finally shifted and rolled away, letting my consciousness rise to the surface. Waking. Whole and alert.
I am free from the burden that has held me as its unwitting prisoner for so long.
When I blink, I am no longer in the underground cavern, but in a secret, narrow room within the Eastern Court with Eojin at my side.
My little brother makes the face he always does right before he laughs. I motion for him to remain quiet. Eojin covers his mouth with both hands, shoulders shaking with silent giggles.
We were not allowed to join Mother and Father at dinner tonight to see our mysterious uncle, who had left Arum before I was born, and now returned at long last.
Sneaking into the spy’s room with Eojin to let him have a look at the mysterious man we’ve yet to meet is little more than an excuse to satiate my own curiosity.
If we are caught, I will be punished with extra lessons, lectures on behavior, and exercise. But for my brother, this is nothing more than a fun trick to play on them.
I brace my hands on the wall and peer through the small opening.
A dozen crystal candelabras were brought in to provide adequate lighting for the late meal.
Ornamentation, typically reserved for celebrations and monumental occasions, decorates the room.
Rare plants have been cut and fashioned into elaborate garlands, ancestral tapestries hung, and rare vases and paintings are displayed throughout the room.
He must be someone very important, I think.
The three of them sit together at one end of the long table set up in the center of the throne room—Father at the head with Mother to his right, and Uncle on his left with his back to us. They talk and laugh as they share a drink over food no one bothers to touch.
They are too far for me to make out what they are saying.
Eojin tugs on the hem of my jacket to get my attention.
“I want to see, Brother,” he mouths.
“In a moment,” I reply silently, then turn back to look through the hole again.
A shape moves beside Uncle’s feet. I squint, trying to see better. They inch out from the shadows beneath the table until their head pokes its way into the light. The long body slowly glides up, behind the back of the chair, out of everyone else’s view.
This must be Uncle’s bonded demon.
They share the same young dragon form as Imugi, and Eojin’s and Father’s demons, Mandu and Kyo… except it’s wrong.
All demons within our family line have been a shade of blue, from nearly white to nearly black. This demon is different. They are shades of burnt red with dark, ashy splotches all over their body. And the scales that should be smooth and shining are dull and spiky.
Mother gasps, jumping to her feet. Her chair clatters to the floor with a sharp clatter. Father rises with a shout. Father rushes to Mother’s side, taking her hand.
Uncle calmly sets his cup down and dabs his mouth with a napkin before rising. Each movement that the stranger makes is slow and intentional. The odd demon rises up behind him, hovering in clear view, undulating in midair over his shoulder.
Our parents back away, horror written on their faces.
When Uncle shifts, giving me a partial view of his face, I understand why—black veins streak down his face and neck, disappearing below his collar.
Demon cursed.
My heart pounds deafeningly in my ears. I do not think I could hear what Uncle is saying even if I were right beside him.
He jerks forward, bracing against the table and clutching his chest with his other hand.
His back curves and strains against his clothes.
The hand on the table elongates and transforms, growing larger.
Fingers turn to claws with razor-sharp talons.
The muscles in his arm ripple and expand, ripping through his sleeves, changing into something else entirely.
He releases a blood-curdling yell that becomes a roar as the dragon within him bursts into being. His spiked scales shimmer like the coal and embers of a smoldering forest fire.
“Joooon,” Eojin whisper-whines my name. “What is—”
I clap a hand over his mouth to silence him, vehemently shaking my head, then quickly peering into the throne room again.
Uncle’s demon is looking in our direction, eyes darting for the source of the sound. Their head tilts at different angles, attempting to perceive us.
Demon shit.
I don’t fully understand what is happening, but I know we need to get out of here and find help.
Eojin tries to push my hand away. My fingers press into his soft cheeks as I take his other arm and drag him from the secret room. He stops struggling against me almost immediately, as I am never intentionally rough with him.
In the hall, I pause long enough to whisper, “Stay silent, no matter what happens.”
Tears fill his eyes, but he nods obediently. Guilt spikes through me at the fear crumpling Eojin’s young face. But there is no time to comfort and coddle him. I take his hand and drag him out into the night. We race over the open grounds and slip into the Central Court.
None of the three bonded demons are anywhere to be found.
Where are they?
A scream rents the air.
Mother.
Guards come running, but our parents’ personal spies reach us first.
Hyeon grabs me by the shoulders, roughly shaking me. “What happened? What were you two doing in there?”
My mouth moves, but no sound comes out as the rush of guards passes.
“Hyeon, up there!” Yuna shouts, pointing to the sky.
Two dragons leap into the night in a tangle of fire and ice. One a pale blue, the other a mix of blood-red and dull gray.
“Sound the alarm!” a guard shouts. “The queen is dead!”
“What in the Otherworld?” Hyeon breathes. He watches in horror as the two dragons twist and slash against the night sky.
The stories of the shadouk rush back. When an attempt to bond with a demon fails, they will slowly poison each other’s life force until they die. But if the demon is far more powerful, they can live on after killing their bonded, able to use the empty husk as a puppet to do their bidding.
Our uncle will kill us—no, he is not our uncle. Not anymore. The realization is the jolt I need to regain my senses.
“Shadouk,” I hiss, shoving my brother at Hyeon. “Take Eojin as far away as you can.”
“What about you? It’s not safe for you,” Yuna says, trying to drag me with them.
I pull back, shaking my head. “He only needs one of us—hide Eojin. I will send for you when it is safe.”
A chill settles in my bones. I will live long enough to hand over the throne. It’s a truth I cannot bear to say aloud.
Eojin sniffles and rubs his eyes. he is only seven, yet I glance at Eojin, sniffling and rubbing the tears from his eyes. He is only seven, yet I must place a heavy burden on his shoulders.
“Prepare him for the crown, just in case.”
Yuna nods. “I’ll take care of the details of our disappearance.”
“We will wait at the Guardian tree on this day, each year,” Hyeon says.
Yuna grips my shoulder and nods. “Be safe, young prince.”
I watch them slip into the shadows, their movements barely noticeable. Once they disappear into the Northern Court, I run to the Temple Tower.
The ceremonial disciples startle and gape as I burst through the door. “Hide!” I shout.
Some inch away, wanting to heed the order, but most remain rooted in place by confusion.
The Minister of Ceremony comes running. “Your Highness, what is the meaning—” He is interrupted by the tolling of the bell. It sets off a chain reaction of smaller alarms throughout the palace.
“All of you—hide and do not come out until it is safe.”
Minister Ilseong bows his head, then quickly turns to usher the disciples toward the stairwell that leads down into the royal crypt.
Smothering silence falls as a dragon’s roar cuts off. Seconds feel like an eternity as they tick by. The world holds its breath.
A heavy thud shatters the quiet. I feel it through the soles of my boots more than I hear it, finally breaks the dreadful silence. The tolling bells cease, leaving my ears ringing with ghostly echoes in the sudden hush.
The triumphant screech of a dragon I do not recognize.
My hands tremble as I enter the main chamber and rush to set the lights aflame. Then I walk to the center of the room and wait, preparing myself for what comes next.
Minutes pass. Long and endless. The sound of my shallow breathing is my only company. I flinch as the doors to the Temple Tower are thrown wide with a bang, shattering the silence.
I take a deep breath. Release it.
Then I sprint forward.
Uncle passes over the threshold and into the main chamber seconds before I get there, forcing me to skid to a stop.
“Who are you?” I demand, feigning ignorance.
Eojin and I were to meet him in the morning. Now, an entirely different future awaits us with the dawn.
He blinks, then smiles. “I am your uncle, Your Highness,” he says calmly.
He has changed. The demon curse markings have disappeared, and there is no sign of his bonded demon.
“What are you looking for?” he asks.
“Uncle? I thought you were with Mother and Father. Where are they?” I ask. “What is happening? Have you seen my brother? I was in the library when the alarm sounded. I cannot find him—he knows to come here if the alarms sound,” I ramble on as if I had not witnessed a thing.
Uncle’s gaze narrows, searching my face.