The chambers they had prepared for me were not a room, but a gilded cage masquerading as a sanctuary. The walls were draped in heavy silks of midnight blue and silver, and the floor was covered in furs so thick they swallowed the sound of my footsteps. High, arched windows offered a view of the jagged mountain peaks, but the glass was thick and reinforced with silver wire.
"Princess!"
The door to the servant's entrance burst open, and Min-Ah practically threw herself at me. I caught her, my heart aching as I felt her trembling against my chest. She was dressed in the same charcoal-grey uniform as the other servants, her ink-black hair messy and her face streaked with tears.
"Are you hurt? Did they do something to you?" I asked, pulling back to inspect her.
"I am fine, Your Highness. They just... they are so cold. All of them," she whispered, her voice hitching.
"They took Commander Joon to the lower barracks. He told me to tell you that he will find a way, but... his leg, Your highness. He was limping so badly."
I squeezed her hands, trying to project a strength I did not feel. "We are alive, Min-Ah. That is our only victory today. We must be smart. We must watch and listen."
Madame Vane stood by the main door like a stone gargoyle, her presence a constant reminder that we were never truly alone.
"The General will arrive at the turning of the glass," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "Bathe her. Prepare her. If she is not ready when he enters, the consequences will fall on the court lady, not the Princess."
Min-Ah flinched, and I felt a cold surge of protective fury. I ushered Min-Ah toward the bathing pool in the adjoining room, a sunken basin of black marble filled with steaming water that smelled of bitter herbs.
As Min-Ah began to scrub the grime of the journey from my skin, my hand brushed against something cold and hard tucked beneath the edge of the marble tiles. I froze. My fingers traced the outline of a small, thin blade, a fruit knife, likely forgotten by a previous occupant or hidden by a sympathetic soul.
I didn't say a word. I didn't even look at Min-Ah. I simply slipped the small weapon into the folds of the heavy silk robe they had laid out for me. It was a pathetic defense against a man like Kai-Zin, but it was the only thing that made me feel like I still possessed my own life.
By the time the moon had climbed over the obsidian towers, the palace had fallen into a deathly, expectant silence. I dismissed Min-Ah to her small sleeping alcove, ignoring her terrified glances. I sat on the edge of the massive bed, my hand gripped tightly around the hilt of the hidden knife inside my sleeve.
The heavy oak doors groaned open.
Kai-Zin did not enter like a king; he entered like a storm. He had removed his heavy armor, wearing only a thin black tunic that was unbuttoned at the throat. His hair was loose, falling around his face in tangled waves of ink. But it was his eyes that stopped my breath. They weren't just glowing; they were vibrating with a frantic, unstable light.
He looked at me not with lust but agony.
"It is clawing at me," he rasped, his voice sounding like dry leaves skittering over stone. He took a step toward me, stumbling slightly, his hand clutching his forehead.
"The darkness... the voices of two hundred years of dead men. They are screaming, Sun-Hee. They are tearing at the floor of my mind."
I stood up, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Stay back."
He ignored me, his breathing heavy and ragged. He looked like a man possessed, a monster being eaten from the inside out by his own power. "The noise... the light. Quiet them. I command you."
"I am not your servant!" I cried, pulling the knife from my sleeve.
I lunged. It was a move born of pure desperation and grief for my parents. I didn't aim for a non-lethal spot; I aimed for his heart.
Kai-Zin didn't move to block me. He didn't shift away or catch my wrist with his terrifying strength. He simply stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes locked onto mine with a strange, haunting relief.
The blade hit his chest, but my aim was off as he stepped into the strike. The metal sliced through his tunic and grazed the skin over his ribs. A thin line of dark, crimson blood welled up instantly.
I gasped, my hand trembling as I felt the resistance of his flesh. I expected him to strike me, to throw me across the room for my insolence. Instead, he let out a long, shuddering breath. He reached out and placed his large hand over mine, which was still clutching the knife. He pressed the blade deeper into his own skin, just enough to make the blood flow faster.
"Yes," he whispered, a twisted, beautiful smile touching his lips. "Feel it. Feel the heat of the monster you hate so much."
"Let go of my hand!" I choked out, trying to pull my hand away, but his grip was like iron.
"Because for a second, the pain of the blade was louder than the screaming in my head," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate growl. "Your touch... even when you seek to kill me, it is the only thing that feels real."
He pulled me closer, forcing me to stand between his knees as he sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He didn't try to take the knife. He just held my hand against his wound, his blood staining my fingers and the white silk of my robe.
"I am dying in this shadow, Little Light," he murmured, his forehead dropping to rest against my stomach. "And you are the only thing that can anchor me to the world of the living."
At that moment, something shifted.
The blood-seal on my wrist flared with a sudden, blinding heat. It wasn't pain, but a surge of energy that felt like a bridge forming between us. I tried to pull back, but a wave of dizzying sensation crashed over my mind.
It wasn't my own emotion.
I saw a flash of a frozen wasteland. I felt the bone-deep ache of two centuries spent in total, crushing isolation. I felt the weight of a thousand battles, the faces of brothers lost to the madness, and a loneliness so vast it felt like an ocean of ice. It was a grief that made my own loss feel like a single drop of water.
The "Bond" sparked for the first time, a violent, golden electricity that hummed through our touching skin. It was too much. The sheer magnitude of his 200 years of suffering hit my soul like a physical blow.
My vision blurred. My knees turned to water. The knife clattered to the floor as my strength vanished, and I felt myself collapsing.
Kai-Zin's arms caught me before I hit the ground, pulling me into the hard, warm cage of his chest. The last thing I felt before the darkness claimed me was the frantic thud of his heart against my ear, and the terrifying realization that I wasn't just his prisoner.
I was beginning to feel him. And God help me, I felt the hole in his soul that only I could fill.