The Mercenary: A Sequel to Hwarang: The Saga of the Sooks Book #2

Chapter 39: The Battle over the Bow

He was hurting.

But he wasn't about to admit it.

However, he leaned gratefully back against the wall that was now supporting his upper body as he sat back in the bed that had confined him for the last week. And sighed with relief that his walking was over for the day. But he was still disappointed that he hadn't made it outside with the princess.

He glanced over at her worried face. No one else could detect her concern. But the corners of her eyes were pinched. And the smile that he had grown to love wasn't in evidence today. She was clearly disturbed over the idea of pursuing that target that rested in one fine corner of their garden.

It saddened him. He knew that she used to find security in her bow. And a deep solace. And perhaps even joy. She had certainly enjoyed shooting the night he had tutored her. He wanted to see her take delight in the practice again. Even if she'd never relish lifting her bow against a fellow human being. Which, of course, she shouldn't.

"Sook Myeongie," his gentle voice broke the silence between them now.

They were alone.

His sister was in the next room. Eating dinner with the king.

The prince wasn't completely sure why Jin Heung was putting this level of trust in him – leaving him alone with the princess for a half an hour – but right now he was most thankful for it. He knew the only way that she'd open up to him would be if she was certain that she wouldn't be overheard.

Her eyes collided with his. But her face remained impassive.

"What's troubling you?"

Her frown deepened. And the lines around her eyes turned into ruts. She shook her head.

"It's your bow, isn't it?"

"What?" she asked in surprise.

"I noticed you weren't wearing it when you came to escort me to the garden."

"I wanted to help support you. It would have been in the way."

"You managed it the day you helped me through the forest."

He watched a wave of grief pass over her face. She didn't like remembering that day. Neither did he. But he had the feeling that her reasons were not the same as his.

She shrugged. "That's because I had to. I wasn't about to leave it behind. I wasn't convinced the danger was passed."

He studied her face for a few silent seconds. "Talk to me, my love. Please. Tell me what's eating you."

Slowly, her eyes traveled back to his face. "I saw him."

He wrinkled his brow. "Whom?"

"The boy I killed," she murmured. Almost silently.

"He wasn't a boy."

"He was. He was only a few months older than I am," she muttered sadly.

"He was a man. Who decided to kill his king. He deserved the death penalty."

"I know," she mumbled.

"But?" he prompted her gently.

She glanced back up into his warm, cinnamon eyes again. "But when I saw his face, he simply looked like a lost, little boy. One I had put into an early grave."

He frowned down at her. "When did you look at his face?"

She cleared her throat as her eyes slid away from his. "I went to see him. While you were in surgery."