Sojung is trying to concentrate on the parchment in front of her, but the words are swimming in front of her like errant tadpoles, while she’s left drowning in the desolate pools of her own thoughts.

When the knocks on her door come, she almost jumps from her seat, all royal dignity and feminine etiquette forgotten. She hadn’t realized how much she had been anticipating the sound; it’s like she can finally let out a breath she’s been holding for hours.

Sinbi! She just barely manages to hold back the word from leaving her lips, although the person hasn’t left her thoughts since she fled the room like the devil was at her heels.

However, it isn’t Sinbi at her door. Usually, it brings her great happiness to see her favourite little sister, but not this time.

“Unnie?” Yewon says hesitantly. Sojung’s expression must really be something. “Is this a bad time? I can come back later.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Sojung pastes a smile on her face. “I’m just reading anyway. I’d welcome a distraction.”

“You usually love reading,” Yewon says in that astute way of hers. “What is different about today?”

What is different, indeed. Sojung briefly entertains the thought of telling Yewon about what had happened with Sinbi, but she dismisses the idea almost immediately. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Yewon, but she still feels too…unsettled to talk about this with anybody. And Yewon, as kind and understanding as she is, has always been very proper. In many ways, Sojung thinks she would make a better eldest princess than Sojung herself.

“Sojung unnie?”

“Do you ever feel tired, Yewon?” The words slip from Sojung’s mouth before she can hold them back.

“This weather has been known to induce fatigue. Is it serious?” Yewon looks concerned. “Maybe you should speak with a court physician.”

Sojung puts the mask-like smile up again. “It’s not that serious. And I don’t want to trouble anyone.”

“You would not be troubling them. After all, it’s their job to care for us.”

It’s the job of the gungnyeo to take care of them too, and the eunuchs, and the guards, along with many others in the palace who many nobles simply view as lower beings. They’re just servants, she’s heard many of them sneer. As if they aren’t even people, not to mention equals in any way.

“You don’t look very well, unnie,” Yewon says in concern. “Should I have Eunha call for a physician?”

That gets Sojung’s attention. “Eunha’s with you?”

Yewon blinks, looking bemused. “Yes, as always. Did you wish to speak to her?”

“I’m just…wondering if she’s seen Sinbi.”

“Sinbi?” Yewon looks even more confused now. “Is Sinbi not with you? If you don’t know her whereabouts, I doubt that Eunha does.”

“Right.” Sojung deflates. “It was a foolish idea.”

“Is Sinbi missing? She didn’t ask for your permission to leave?”

“Since when does Sinbi ask my permission for anything?” Sojung says with a wry chuckle.

“You indulge her, unnie.”

“Like you don’t indulge Eunha?”

“I don’t think it is the same,” Yewon says, with a gaze so clear and piercing Sojung has to avert her own eyes. “She is, after all, a gungnyeo.”

So? Sojung almost says. Or even, what’s your point? “You sound like abeonim, Yewon,” she says instead. “Don’t worry, I am very aware who Sinbi is.”

“I’m sure you are, unnie, but I think you are more aware of that than what she is.”

“She is my friend,” Sojung says, steel creeping into her voice now.

Yewon seems to realize that she’s stepped over some invisible boundary line, because her posture suddenly becomes more stiff and formal. She even inclines her head, a step away from a bow. “I know she is, and I did not mean to imply otherwise. I apolo—”

“Don’t be sorry, Yewon,” Sojung sighs. “I don’t begrudge you for having an attitude that most in the palace do. I am certain that many think of me as foolish, if not senseless.”

“I could never, unnie,” Yewon says sincerely, and she sounds like the young girl who always tagged after Sojung, who wanted to pick flowers with her even though she couldn’t even reach the stems. “I have always looked up to you, and I always will.”

“Until you catch up to me in height, maybe,” Sojung says with a fond smile.

“I very much doubt that I ever will, but even if I do, that will not change. I am proud that you are my older sister. I could not hope to have a better one.”

Sojung blinks hard. “I could say the same for you, Yewonnie.”

She smiles for the third time, but for the first time it’s real, and Yewon returns it.

Lunch is personally delivered by a eunuch from the kitchen. Yerin thanks him, quiet and polite, and pours tea for herself and Sinbi before Sinbi can even reach for the teapot.

“I hope that the food is to your liking,” Yerin says cordially, sounding more like the crown princess Sinbi is used to.

“I’m not picky.” There’s soup, rice, a whole roast chicken and a few sides dishes. It’s nicer fare than even Sojung gets, and Sinbi’s stomach grumbles.

Yerin smiles. “Hungry?”

“Now I am,” Sinbi says, eyeing the food. She wonders if it would be rude if she went for a drumstick.

“Help yourself,” Yerin says, like she’s reading Sinbi’s mind. “This is way more than what I can eat anyway.”

“Thanks,” Sinbi says, promptly reaching over to tear a drumstick off the chicken. Yerin takes a sip of soup, not seeming very hungry.

“Oh, this isn’t chicken,” Sinbi says, half full.

“It’s duck,” Yerin says. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, I love it. We just have it so rarely that I didn’t think this would be duck.”

“Duck is my favourite,” Yerin says, although she hasn’t taken a single piece of it. “Seokjin-jeoha must have asked them to make it for me.”

“That’s kind of him.”

“He is a very kind man,” Yerin says, spinning her soup spoon aimlessly in her bowl.

“Aren’t you going to have any duck?”

“I’ll have some later. Don’t worry about me, just eat.” As she says it, she puts some nappa in Sinbi’s bowl. “Don’t forget your vegetables.”

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” Sinbi admits, too full to keep her defences up.

“Like what?”

“I mean, so…not formal. You’re totally different from a washing board now.”

“A washing board?” Yerin looks confused. “Does that have some other meaning? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Um.” A blush crawls along the back of Sinbi’s neck. “It’s this name I give to palace women, because they’re so stiff and rigid, like a washing board.”

Yerin keeps staring at her, like she doesn’t understand and she’s waiting for some better explanation. Sinbi feels like her tongue is tied in a knot; Yerin’s going to think she’s an immature, insolent child for coming up with such an analogy. (Sojung always says Sinbi is exactly those things.)

Sinbi definitely doesn’t expect Yerin to burst into laughter again, all three dimples making their comeback. “That’s an interesting way to put it. I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

“What do you think of it like, then?”

“Just…life. To survive in the palace, you have to learn how to be a good cutting board. Either that, or the knife, and that’s not something I want to be.”

“Cutting board? Weren’t we talking about washing boards?”

“Ah, yes. Excuse me.” That sad look is suddenly much more prominent in Yerin’s eyes. The laughter had chased it away, but now it’s back and stronger than ever. “Are you full? Do you want to ask the kitchen for something else?”

“Some dessert would be nice.”

“You still have those bupyeon, don’t you?”

“Oh.” Sinbi’s hand goes to the package automatically. “That’s true, but.”

“They’re for Sojung unnie,” Yerin says understandingly. “I have some fruit. Do you like apples or pears better? I might have an orange left, but I definitely have the other two.”

“I’ll prepare them.” Sinbi jumps up, but does it too quickly and sways on her feet. Yerin has to steady her with a hand on her arm.

“Be careful,” Yerin says with a smile.

“Thanks,” Sinbi says, sheepish. “Where are the fruit? I’ll get those ready.”

“I’ll show you,” Yerin says, rising from her seat with much more grace than Sinbi. In her pure white robes and loose hair, she almost looks like some kind of goddess, the kind Sinbi had heard of in folk tales who live on icy mountain peaks. Sinbi finds herself just staring at her.

“What?” Yerin asks, blinking.

“N-nothing.” Sinbi drops her eyes abruptly, like the time Han-sanggung caught her dancing with a broomstick instead of sweeping with it.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I have some pomegranates too. You should bring Sojung unnie some. Those are a rare treat.”

“That’s great. She loves pomegranates.”

“Does she peel them or do you?”

“She does,” Sinbi says sheepishly. She knows she shouldn’t admit that she let the princess do work, but she trusts Yerin with this. She trusts Yerin. “I’m not nearly as good at getting the seeds out as she is.”

“She’s always been good at that,” Yerin says. “I lose patience before I can get them all out.”

“Sojung unnie has patience in bucket loads,” Sinbi agrees.

“Bucket loads of clothing for the washing board?” Yerin teases.

“Unnie!” Sinbi whines, and Yerin laughs.

Sinbi gives up on telling herself not to stare.

The bupyeon have gotten squashed. Sinbi looks at them ruefully, wondering if she can still give them to Sojung. It almost looks like she sat on them. She had accidentally sat on pastries she brought for Sojung once, and she got so upset about it that her voice cracked when she apologized, but Sojung had eaten them anyway, and eaten them happily at that. Sojung has always been too kind for her own good.

“Unnie,” Sinbi starts as she steps into the room.

That kindness doesn’t seem to be present now. Sojung’s voice is the sharpest that Sinbi’s ever heard it. “Where were you?”

Sinbi hesitates, unused to hearing such a cutting tone from her. “I went to see Yerin unnie—I mean, wangsejabin.”

“Yerin unnie?” Sojung repeats quietly.

“You shouldn’t be calling her unnie,” Sinbi says lamely. “You’re the older one.”

“Since when are you on such familiar terms with her?” Sojung asks, or rather, interrogates. “I’m the only one you call unnie in this palace.”

“That’s not true. There are tons of gungnyeo I call unnie. Like Eunha unnie and—”

“I don’t mean other gungnyeo,” Sojung cut her off. “You know what I mean. Stop deflecting and answer my question.”

It’s one of the first times that Sojung has sounded so…commanding. Forceful. Like the princess she is. It makes something sink in the pit of Sinbi’s stomach.

“My sincerest apologies, gongjunim,” she says, bowing.

Sojung falters. “Sinbi, I didn’t mean—”

“Han-sanggun told me that wangsejabin required my presence. I did not know why, but I had to comply. After all, I am merely a lowly gungnyeo who must obey orders.”

“Sinbi.” Sojung reaches for her, but Sinbi takes a step back and bows again.

“I need to attend to some matters, gongjunim. Please excuse me.”

And Sinbi flees from the room, feeling very different from the last time she did it, as she fights back the burning sting in her eyes.