Morning came softly to the mountains.
A pale veil of mist rested over the temple roofs and wound its way through the pines, thinning wherever the first light touched it. Somewhere beyond the courtyards, a bell sounded—low and unhurried—calling the monks to the first prayers of the day.
Haneul heard every toll.
She had been awake for hours.
Sleep had eluded her ever since her momjong had confirmed what she already feared.
Kang-dae was gone.
No farewell.
He had not even crossed the threshold of her room.
And yet the words he had spoken the night before refused to leave her.
But I never forgot you.
I was jealous.
If this is the punishment for loving you in silence… then I will accept it.
Haneul closed her eyes.
Before last night, she would have known exactly how to interpret his absence. She would have taken it for what she had taken every silence, every cold glance, every deliberate step away from her to mean.
Indifference.
Now she knew better.
Kang-dae had not withdrawn because there was nothing in his heart.
He had withdrawn because there was too much.
And somehow, in that infuriating mind of his, he had decided that loving her gave him the right to choose the distance between them.
For both of them.
The door slid open with a soft whisper.
Her momjong entered carrying a small tray of rice porridge and medicinal tea.
"You should eat something, my lady."
Haneul opened her eyes.
"Has Kang-dae already left?"
The girl stopped.
That hesitation was answer enough.
Haneul turned her face away.
"I see."
Her servant quietly set the tray before her.
"The Bujang asked after your health before he departed."
Haneul looked back at once.
"He asked about me?"
"Yes, my lady."
"And he still did not come in?"
The momjong lowered her gaze.
Haneul let out a long, measured breath.
She did not cry.
Not this time.
His distance no longer hurt in quite the same way. Beneath the sadness, something sharper had begun to take shape.
Frustration.
Perhaps even anger.
"Where did he go?"
"He would not say. He only ordered that no one was to know his destination."
A short laugh escaped Haneul, entirely without humor.
"Of course he did."
Her momjong wisely said nothing.
Haneul reached for the medicinal tea. She had almost raised it to her lips when something occurred to her.
"Last night, you said the Daesagan arrived wounded."
The servant's expression changed.
"Yes."
"What happened to him?"
"I do not know everything."
"Then tell me what you do know."
The girl hesitated.
"He was attacked while crossing the mountains. Some of his men were killed. Others reached the temple wounded. Young Lord Yi had already lost a great deal of blood by the time they arrived."
Haneul's fingers tightened around the cup.
"Men were killed?"
"That is what I heard the guards say."
For the moment, Kang-dae and all the anger he had left behind disappeared from her thoughts.
"And Jun-ho?"
"The physicians were with him throughout the night."
Haneul threw back the blankets.
"Help me up."
Her momjong stared at her.
"What?"
"I'm going to see him."
"My lady, the physician ordered you to remain in bed."
"Then I shall remain in bed when I return."
"You can barely stand."
Haneul swung her legs over the side of the bedding.
The instant her feet touched the floor and she tried to rise, the room tilted violently around her.
Her momjong caught her before she could fall.
"Do you see?"
Haneul shut her eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass.
"I'm fine."
"You are most certainly not."
"Then I will walk slowly."
"My lady…"
Haneul opened her eyes.
"Jun-ho crossed those mountains wounded while I lay here, not even knowing he was fighting to reach the King. I will not remain in bed without knowing whether he is all right."
Her servant stared at her for a moment.
Then sighed.
The argument, clearly, was over.
She fetched a thick outer robe and wrapped it securely around Haneul's shoulders.
"If you faint before we get there, I will summon the physician myself and have him confine you to this room."
For the first time that morning, the faintest smile touched Haneul's lips.
"Then I shall make every effort not to."
The scent of medicinal herbs reached them before they reached Jun-ho's chamber.
Haneul moved slowly through the corridor, one hand resting on her servant's arm. By the time they arrived, the short walk had taken more from her than she cared to admit.
A monk opened the door.
Haneul stepped inside—and stopped.
Jun-ho lay motionless beneath several layers of bedding.
The color had been drained from his face. A bandage wrapped his arm, and beneath the loosened folds of his inner robes she could see more linen wound tightly around his torso.
She had known he was hurt.
Knowing was one thing.
Seeing him like this was another.
For the first time, the truth of what had happened in those mountains settled fully upon her.
Jun-ho had almost died.
There had been every possibility that she might never have seen him again.
The physician was inspecting one of the bandages when he noticed her.
His expression hardened.
"No."
Haneul blinked.
"I haven't said anything."
"You needn't. You should be in your own chamber."
"I only came to see how he is."
"Alive."
"I had gathered that much."
The physician gave her the exhausted look of a man who had already spent too many hours arguing with stubborn patients.
"He lost a considerable amount of blood. He forced his body well beyond what it should have endured, and his fever has not yet broken. The wounds are under control for now, but he will need several days of uninterrupted rest."
Haneul looked toward the bed.
"May I stay for a little while?"
The physician turned to her momjong.
"Can you persuade her to go back?"
The girl shook her head.
Slowly.
The physician sighed.
"Then sit. And if I find you attempting to nurse him, I will personally escort you back to your room."
Haneul inclined her head with impeccable innocence.
"The thought would never occur to me."
His expression made it clear that he believed no such thing.
He left them anyway.
Haneul lowered herself beside the bed.
For a while, she simply watched Jun-ho sleep.
At court, there was always something immaculate about him. His robes, his posture, even the way his hair was bound seemed to belong to the disciplined order of palace life.
There was none of that here.
His hair had loosened around his face. Without the composure he wore so naturally before others, he seemed younger somehow.
Unprotected.
Vulnerable.
Haneul reached for a cloth resting in a bowl of warm water. She wrung it out carefully and laid it across his forehead.
"All those lectures about prudence," she murmured, "and you nearly managed to get yourself killed."
His eyelids stirred.
Haneul froze.
"Jun-ho?"
Slowly, his eyes opened.
For several heartbeats, they held no recognition. Then his gaze found her, and something in his face eased.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Haneul."
Only then did she realize she had been holding her breath.
"I see you still remember my name."
The faintest trace of amusement appeared in his eyes.
"Yours would be difficult to forget."
The words caught her unprepared.
Her heart betrayed her with a sudden, inexplicable beat.
And then—
But I never forgot you.
Another voice.
Another man.
Kang-dae.
Haneul lowered her eyes.
If Jun-ho noticed the change in her expression, he gave no sign of it.
"How long have you been awake?"
"Since last night."
A quiet breath left him.
"Then I made it in time."
Her gaze returned to him.
"In time for what?"
Jun-ho did not answer immediately.
He stared at the ceiling for a moment, as though deciding how much of the truth he was willing to give her.
"My father sent me to find His Majesty."
"I know."
"But…"
His voice faltered, and he paused to gather enough breath to continue.
Haneul waited.
Jun-ho turned his eyes toward her.
"Knowing you were here gave me another reason to keep going."
For once, Haneul had no answer.
Her gaze fell to her hands.
She understood what he had said.
Perhaps that was precisely why she did not know what to do with it.
Jun-ho shifted beneath the blankets and tried to push himself upright.
Pain stopped him almost immediately.
A strangled breath escaped through his teeth.
Haneul's head snapped up.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to sit up."
"Then stop."
"I have been lying here long enough."
"And you will continue lying there until the physician decides otherwise."
Jun-ho stared at her.
"I seem to remember that you are the one who despises being given orders."
"I do."
"Interesting."
His mouth curved faintly.
"You appear remarkably fond of giving them."
Haneul narrowed her eyes.
"Would you like me to call the physician?"
Jun-ho settled obediently back against the bedding.
"No."
"That is what I thought."
This time his smile came more easily.
And despite herself, Haneul smiled back.
For a few fleeting moments, the world beyond that chamber seemed to loosen its hold on them.
The palace and all its intrigues.
Min.
The mountains.
Blood.
Duty.
Even Kang-dae.
All of it receded.
And there, in the quiet of a remote mountain temple, there was only Haneul and Jun-ho—
as there had been on those distant afternoons when they could lose hours walking side by side, arguing over whatever question happened to capture their minds, neither noticing how far they had wandered until it was time to turn back.