THE CONCUBINE || TAEKOOK ||

FORTY EIGHT

The King's Study — Three Days After the Incident

The afternoon light filtered through the  windows, across the desk where Jungkook sat. The document in his hands had been read three times, its words blurring together, none of them sticking. His eyes were fixed on the paper, but his mind was elsewhere on the silence from the Kang kingdom, on the spies who had not returned, on the borders that needed arming, on the face he had been avoiding for three days.

He signed the document, folded it, slid it into its cover. The words of the chief commander echoed in his head: Permission to load weapons to the borders of the Jeon clan. He had granted it. He had done everything in these three days to protect his kingdom moved troops, fortified positions, sent riders to every province. But still, he was worried. Still, he could not sleep.

He called for the guard, handed over the document, watched the door close behind him.

And then he was there.

Taehyung stood in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes red-rimmed, his hands clasped tightly before him. He looked like he had not slept in days. He looked like he had been crying.

"We need to talk," Taehyung said.

Jungkook's chest tightened. He looked away, reaching for a brush, a sheet of paper, anything to occupy his hands, to give his eyes somewhere to look that was not at the person he had failed.

The guard left. The door closed. Taehyung did not move.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Taehyung's voice was soft, but there was steel beneath it. He stepped closer, and Jungkook could feel his presence like a fire, could feel the heat of him, the hurt radiating from his skin.

Jungkook's brush moved across the paper, making shapes that were not words, not anything. "I am not."

He did not look up. He could not.

Taehyung came closer. Jungkook saw his shadow fall across the desk, saw the way his hands trembled at his sides.

"Jungkook." Taehyung's voice cracked. "Look at me."

Jungkook's brush stilled. He did not move. He did not breathe.

Then Taehyung's hands were on his face, warm and soft, cupping his cheeks, turning his head, forcing him to meet those eyes those beautiful, wounded eyes that held no anger, no blame, only hurt and confusion.

"What happened?" Taehyung whispered. "Did I disappoint you? Is that why you will not talk to me?"

His voice broke on the last words, and Jungkook saw the tears gathering in his eyes.

He thinks I am angry at him, Jungkook realized. He thinks I blame him. He thinks I wanted him to fight, and he could not, and now I am punishing him with silence.

The thought was a knife in his chest.

"I am sorry," Taehyung was saying, the words tumbling out now, unstoppable. "I am sorry I could not protect myself. You taught me self-defense, and I could not I was so weak, and the fever, and I could not—I am sorry, Jungkook. I am so sorry."