Chapter 28 – The Prince of Lanterns #3
Balanced together.
Held positions together.
The women of Cradle Lake had always trained differently.
Divers.
Swimmers.
Pearl gatherers.
Children raised beside deep water.
The lake demanded endurance.
Patience.
Control.
And if a journey south truly awaited them, those skills would matter again.
One evening Jaeho found Seolhyun balancing along a low wooden beam.
Arms spread.
Eyes closed.
Perfectly steady.
“What are you doing?”
“Training.”
“For what?”
She opened one eye.
“Everything.”
Jaeho considered that.
Unfortunately, it sounded like a genuine answer.
She smiled.
“You know.”
Then lightly punched him in the stomach.
“If we ever end up on that ship, I’m going to need it.”
“You’re going to need it?”
“Yes.”
She stepped down gracefully.
“I would wager half the people involved cannot swim.”
Jaeho laughed.
Unfortunately, she was not joking.
The prince returned on the fourth day.
As though disappearing entirely for several days was perfectly normal.
The invitation arrived shortly before sunset.
Another garden walk.
Jaeho immediately regretted existing.
Taejin found this deeply entertaining.
The gardens glowed beneath lantern light.
The prince waited beside the pond exactly where she expected to find him.
Moonlight shimmered across the water.
Koi drifted beneath the surface.
The prince smiled.
“I wondered if you were avoiding me.”
Seolhyun folded her arms.
“I wondered if you were avoiding me.”
The prince appeared pleased.
“I was giving you time to think.”
“Exactly.”
The answer irritated her immediately.
The prince laughed.
They began walking slowly along the stone pathways.
Behind them, hidden somewhere among the lanterns, flowers, guards, soldiers, servants, spies, and entirely too curious friends, several people immediately began paying attention.
Again.
The prince stopped beside the pond.
For the first time that evening, the smile disappeared.
“The soldier.”
Seolhyun’s heart nearly stopped.
Not visibly.
Never visibly.
“The one assigned to your protection.”
He watched the lanterns drift across the water.
“Jaeho.”
The name settled heavily between them.
The prince continued casually.
“Very loyal.”
“He is a good soldier.”
“He is.”
The prince nodded.
Then added quietly,
“But loyalty is expensive.”
The words lingered.
Dangerous words.
The sort that sounded harmless until one thought about them too long.
They continued walking.
The prince stopped beneath a flowering tree and looked back toward the palace.
Toward the lights.
Toward the walls.
Toward the kingdom itself.
“You know,” he said softly, “everyone assumes power belongs to kings.”
Seolhyun remained silent.
The prince smiled faintly.
“Information is much more valuable.”
There it was.
The truth.
Not romance.
Not courtship.
Power.
Knowledge.
Choice.
The prince folded his hands behind his back.
“I have spoken with ministers.”
“Merchants.”
“Monks.”
“Tang envoys.”
His expression remained thoughtful.
“Everyone is preparing for something.”
The smile returned.
“Which usually means something unpleasant.”
Seolhyun studied him carefully.
“What do you want?”
For once, he answered immediately.
“Freedom.”
The honesty surprised her.
The prince laughed quietly.
“You expected something grander?”
“I expected something less honest.”
“Fair.”
The lanterns drifted slowly across the pond.
The prince’s voice lowered.
“My sister has already been promised.”
The words carried no bitterness.
Which somehow made them sadder.
“The alliance will happen.”
“The Tang will gain influence.”
“The court will celebrate.”
“The kingdom will congratulate itself.”
He looked toward the distant palace.
“And afterward, everyone involved will discover the price.”
His gaze returned to hers.
“I do not wish to become part of the price.”
The silence stretched.
Then he said something unexpected.
“If exile comes…”
Seolhyun looked at him.
“If the king sends you south…”
His expression remained unreadable.
“I can make certain arrangements.”
A warning bell rang inside her mind.
“What kind of arrangements?”
The prince smiled.
“The kind that allow people to remain together.”
For the first time, neither pretended they were discussing politics.
The soldier.
The exile.
The future.
All of it hung unspoken between them.
The prince sighed.
“You love him.”
Not a question.
A conclusion.
Seolhyun did not answer.
The prince laughed softly.
“Do not worry.”
“You hide it terribly.”
That earned a glare.
He seemed delighted.
Then his expression softened.
“I am not offering marriage because I expect you to accept.”
That surprised her.
“Then why offer it?”
The prince looked toward the water.
“Because it creates options.”
The answer sounded exactly like something a prince would say.
And exactly like something a trapped man would believe.
“If I marry you, the court relaxes.”
“If the court relaxes, the king stops watching.”
“If the king stops watching, people move more freely.”
His smile returned.
“And if people move more freely, soldiers have a habit of appearing where they are not supposed to be.”
For a brief moment Seolhyun simply stared at him.
Then she realised.
The prince was not offering himself.
He was offering cover.
A shield.
A distraction.
A move on the board.
“You really are playing stones.”
The prince laughed.
“No.”
His gaze drifted toward the palace.
“I am trying very hard not to be removed from the board altogether.”
The prince stopped beside the pond.
For the first time that evening, the smile disappeared.
“The soldier.”
Seolhyun’s heart nearly stopped.
Not visibly.
Never visibly.
“The one assigned to your protection.”
He watched the lanterns drift across the water.
“Jaeho.”
The name settled heavily between them.
The prince continued casually.
“Very loyal.”
“He is a good soldier.”
“He is.”
The prince nodded.
Then added quietly,
“But loyalty is expensive.”
The words lingered.
Dangerous words.
The sort that sounded harmless until one thought about them too long.
They continued walking.
The prince stopped beneath a flowering tree and looked back toward the palace.
Toward the lights.
Toward the walls.
Toward the kingdom itself.
“You know,” he said softly, “everyone assumes power belongs to kings.”
Seolhyun remained silent.
The prince smiled faintly.
“Information is much more valuable.”
There it was.
The truth.
Not romance.
Not courtship.
Power.
Knowledge.
Choice.
The prince folded his hands behind his back.
“I have spoken with ministers.”
“Merchants.”
“Monks.”
“Tang envoys.”
His expression remained thoughtful.
“Everyone is preparing for something.”
The smile returned.
“Which usually means something unpleasant.”
Seolhyun studied him carefully.
“What do you want?”
For once, he answered immediately.
“Freedom.”
The honesty surprised her.
The prince laughed quietly.
“You expected something grander?”
“I expected something less honest.”
“Fair.”
The lanterns drifted slowly across the pond.
The prince’s voice lowered.
“My sister has already been promised.”
The words carried no bitterness.
Which somehow made them sadder.
“The alliance will happen.”
“The Tang will gain influence.”
“The court will celebrate.”
“The kingdom will congratulate itself.”
He looked toward the distant palace.
“And afterward, everyone involved will discover the price.”
His gaze returned to hers.
“I do not wish to become part of the price.”
The silence stretched.
Then he said something unexpected.
“If exile comes…”
Seolhyun looked at him.
“If the king sends you south…”
His expression remained unreadable.
“I can make certain arrangements.”
A warning bell rang inside her mind.
“What kind of arrangements?”
The prince smiled.
“The kind that allow people to remain together.”
For the first time, neither pretended they were discussing politics.
The soldier.
The exile.
The future.
All of it hung unspoken between them.
The prince sighed.
“You love him.”
Not a question.
A conclusion.
Seolhyun did not answer.
The prince laughed softly.
“Do not worry.”
“You hide it terribly.”
That earned a glare.
He seemed delighted.
Then his expression softened.
“I am not offering marriage because I expect you to accept.”
That surprised her.
“Then why offer it?”
The prince looked toward the water.
“Because it creates options.”
The answer sounded exactly like something a prince would say.
And exactly like something a trapped man would believe.
“If I marry you, the court relaxes.”
“If the court relaxes, the king stops watching.”
“If the king stops watching, people move more freely.”
His smile returned.
“And if people move more freely, soldiers have a habit of appearing where they are not supposed to be.”
For a brief moment Seolhyun simply stared at him.
Then she realised.
The prince was not offering himself.
He was offering cover.
A shield.
A distraction.
A move on the board.
“You really are playing stones.”
The prince laughed.
“No.”
His gaze drifted toward the palace.
“I am trying very hard not to be removed from the board altogether.”
As sunset came he returned he sat quietly beside her. He relaxed just a brief moment unveiling truthfully his predicament, a large exhale that could create calm seas, Not a storm. Not yet.
A soft curtain drifting across tiled roofs and stone courtyards, turning lantern light into blurred halos of gold.
Earlier that afternoon, Seolhyun had found herself arguing with the prince over something so ridiculous she could barely remember how it had started.
A map.
Not strategy.
Not politics.
A map.
The prince had insisted the safest route for an official procession would be the western road.
Seolhyun had informed him he was wrong.
The prince, naturally, had informed her she was mistaken.
Three scholars had been summoned.
Two military officers.
One increasingly distressed cartographer.
And somehow the discussion had expanded to include bridge widths, river crossings, grain storage, horse fatigue, weather patterns and whether royal officials had a natural talent for becoming lost.
The prince had maintained his dignity throughout.
Mostly.
The cartographer had not been so fortunate.