THE CONCUBINE || TAEKOOK ||

FIFTY THREE

Three Days Later

The journey had stretched into its third day when Taehyung finally succumbed to exhaustion.

He had fought it for hours, his eyes burning, his limbs heavy, his mind refusing to quiet. But the rhythm of the carriage, the soft cry of Haneul in the maid's arms, the endless grey of the road it had all blurred together, and he had slipped into a sleep so deep it was like drowning.

He did not know how long he had been under when the crying pulled him back.

Haneul's wail cut through the darkness, sharp and insistent, and Taehyung's eyes flew open. His body jerked, his hands reaching for the baby, his heart pounding.

But the carriage was empty.

The seat across from him was vacant. The maid was gone. The blankets that had been wrapped around Haneul lay crumpled on the floor.

He was out of the carriage before his mind had fully woken, his feet hitting the packed earth of the road, his eyes searching, desperate.

The maid stood a few paces away, Haneul in her arms, bouncing him gently, trying to calm his cries. Beyond her, Hara stood with two of the guards, her voice low, her hands moving as she spoke. She was explaining something, her face animated, her attention fixed on the men before her. She did not see Taehyung. She did not see him step down from the carriage, did not see him walk toward the maid, did not see his hands reach for his son.

Taehyung did not look at her. He went straight to the maid, his arms opening, his face softening as the woman handed him the baby.

"Thank you," he said, his voice low, rough from sleep. "You should have woken me."

The maid bowed and hurried back toward the carriage to prepare the baby's food. Taehyung settled Haneul against his chest, his hand cradling the small head, his finger finding the baby's mouth. Haneul latched on immediately, suckling, his cries quieting, his small body relaxing against his father's warmth.

Taehyung smiled, a small, tired smile, and looked down at his son.

"You are hungry," he murmured. "I am sorry. I did not mean to sleep so long."

"Oh, you are awake!" Hara's voice cut through the quiet, bright and unconcerned. She was walking toward him now, her steps light, her face relaxed. "Thank the gods he has stopped crying. I thought I would go deaf listening to that wailing."

Taehyung did not answer. He studied her face, the ease in her posture, the color in her cheeks. She had been pale that morning, weak, complaining of the journey. Now she looked as though she had spent the day resting in a garden rather than traveling for hours in a cramped carriage.

"You look much better," he said, his voice careful.

Hara waved a hand, dismissing his concern. "Oh, yes. I am feeling much improved. I know someone who is good with herbs. A few remedies, and the worst of it passed."

She looked at him then, her eyes traveling over the way he held the baby, the ease with which he had quieted the child's cries.

"You know a great deal about calming a baby," she said, her voice light, almost idle. "Are you certain you were only a bread seller?"