THE CONCUBINE || TAEKOOK ||

FIFTY FIVE

The Tower Room — Night

The door closed behind him. The lock turned. Taehyung stood in the center of the room, the scroll still clutched in his hands, his heart still pounding, his mind still racing.

Haneul was asleep in his cot, his face peaceful, his tiny fists curled against his cheeks.

Taehyung crossed to the window. The sun was rising over the forest, He looked down at the scroll in his hands. The seal was unbroken, the wax still smooth, the insignia of the Kang kingdom pressed into it like a brand.

He broke it.

The paper was old, the ink faded, the words written in a hand he did not recognize. But he read them. He read them twice, three times, four times, until the words were burned into his memory, until he could not forget them, until they were a part of him

In it was written a trading agreement between two kingdoms signed by kang. Which means there will be no war.

The Forest — Three Days Before

The road stretched before them, empty and silent, the trees pressing close on either side, their branches clawing at the grey sky. Hoseok rode at the front, his horse's hooves pounding against the packed earth, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Behind him, the other soldier's horse was slowing, its steps dragging, its head drooping.

"Hey!" Hoseok called back, his voice sharp with urgency. "What are you doing? We do not have much time. Hurry up!"

The soldier glanced up, his face flushed, his brow slick with sweat. "I am not doing anything! My horse is tired. He needs rest. Can we not stop for a moment?"

Hoseok's jaw tightened. Every moment they delayed was a moment Jungkook remained in chains. But the soldier had already pulled his reins, his horse stumbling to a stop, and he was dismounting, rummaging through his saddlebags for water.

Hoseok sighed. He had no choice. He pulled his own reins, dismounted, and spread his map across a flat rock, measuring the distance, calculating the hours still ahead. The soldier moved behind him, his footsteps soft on the forest floor, but Hoseok did not look up. He was focused on the map, on the lines and symbols that represented the lives of thousands, on the message he carried that could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

He heard the clink of metal.

His body moved before his mind caught up. He threw himself to the side, rolling across the ground, and the dagger that had been aimed at his back sliced through the air where his spine had been.

The soldier stood over him, his face no longer flushed with exhaustion, his eyes no longer dull with fatigue. He was smiling—a thin, cold smile, the smile of a man who had been waiting for this moment.

Hoseok scrambled to his feet, his hand reaching for his own sword, but his fingers found only empty air. He had left it on his saddle. He had been in such a hurry, such a desperate, foolish hurry, that he had forgotten to arm himself.

The soldier lunged. Hoseok dodged, the blade whistling past his ear. He dodged again, and again, his feet stumbling over roots and stones, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could not fight. He could not run. He could only dodge.