THE CONCUBINE || TAEKOOK ||

FIFTY SIX

The Forest — Before Dawn

The carriage rolled through the darkness, the wheels creaking on the rough path, the horses' hooves muffled by the fallen leaves. Taehyung sat inside, Jungkook's head in his lap, Haneul asleep against his chest. They had been traveling for hours. The village was behind them, the forest stretched ahead, and somewhere beyond the trees was the border, safety, home.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment. The exhaustion of the past days pressed down on him, heavy and inescapable. He had not slept. He had not eaten. He had not stopped moving, not stopped planning, not stopped hoping. But now, with Jungkook's warmth beneath his fingers and Haneul's breath soft against his neck, he let himself rest.

Hara's guards had been tracking the carriage since it left the castle.

They moved through the forest in silence, twenty men, their faces hidden behind masks, their swords drawn. The Queen Dowager had given them their orders: find the carriage, retrieve the king, and leave no witnesses.

They found the carriage on the road, its wheels mired in mud, its horses lathered and tired. The driver saw them first, his eyes widening, his mouth opening to shout. A blade silenced him before the sound could leave his throat.

The soldiers swarmed the carriage, pulling open the door, reaching inside.

Taehyung woke to hands on his arms, dragging him out of the carriage. He screamed, fought, clawed at the hands that held him. He saw Jungkook, still unconscious, being lifted from the carriage, carried toward a horse. He saw Haneul, screaming in the arms of a soldier, his small face red with terror.

"No!" he shouted, lunging toward his son. "No, give him back! Give him back!"

A fist connected with his jaw. His head snapped back, and he stumbled, but he did not fall. He swung at the soldier, his fist connecting with the man's face, and the soldier staggered back, surprised.

"Fight, will you?" the soldier growled, and he swung again.

Taehyung dodged, blocked, struck back. He had learned from Jungkook.

A blade sliced across his side.

He gasped, his hand flying to the wound, feeling the warm gush of blood. The cut was shallow, the blade had not gone deep, but the pain was blinding. He fell to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The soldiers surrounded him, their faces cold, their hands reaching for him.

"The Queen said to leave him alive," one of them said. "She said he should suffer."

They beat him. Fists and boots and the hilt of a sword, raining down on him until he could no longer raise his arms, until he could no longer see, until the darkness swallowed him.

The last thing he heard was Haneul's cries, fading into the distance.

The last thing he saw was Jungkook's face, pale and still, being carried away.

The crash came without warning.

The carriage lurched, throwing Taehyung against the tree. His head struck the wood, and the world exploded in white light.