Part 1

“Lady Han, Jeonha.”

Double doors were drawn apart as the woman stepped gracefully inside the king’s private study, the cloth of her hanbok barely brushing the wooden floor. Her eyes on the floor, she bowed, head dipping in respect.

Bar the king, the other occupants of the room held their breath.

It has been a fortnight since the defeat of his most vicious enemy. At night, he could still imagine the warmth of Kim Dae Mok’s blood bathing his hand as he pushed his horde deeper to his gut, the way the man murdered his father. He could remember his own life fading along with his, as well as the sorrowful scream of his lover as he fell. He thought the last image he would see was Ga Eun slitting the man’s throat, red specks tainting her pale skirt.

It has been a fortnight since he woke, and not a word passed her lips directed to him. She had expertly avoided him, even averting her gaze as he declared her the future queen.

(The Queen Dowager bristled upon his declaration, but the real king having the knowledge of her crimes held her in place.)

“Please leave us. I would like to speak to Lady Han in private,” the baritone voice commanded.

Minister Woo Bo and his deputy exchanged glances, the latter shaking his head. Bowing, they walked out of the room. The king’s guard followed, Chung Woon sending a furtive glance to the daughter of the man he was forced to behead in the name of his liege and friend.

At the sound of the doors closing, the king faced his lover, silently observing her.

“You have been avoiding me.” He voiced out.

The woman stiffened upon hearing his observation, but was quick on her feet. “There are court matters I had to attend to, Your Majesty. The inner court was in an uproar when you were incapacitated. Order and loyalty must be ensured to maintain peace within the ranks.”

“Your words are something out of the Head Court Lady’s book,” the king almost smiled.

“Mae Chang has been a great help.” Her head slowly raised until their eyes met. “She is a loyal ally and a dear friend.”

The pain in her voice is unmistakable, and for a moment, the king allowed his figurative mask to fall.

“Your Majesty, I think you know why I requested an audience with you today,” Ga Eun stated.

The quiet indignation he suppressed upon regaining his seat flared, momentarily coloring his vision red. Still, at the back of his mind, he remembered the peasant boy, so hopeless yet so full of trust. Trust that he, to succeed in his endeavors, broke. Trust that the peasant boy broke in the name of his love.

“What if I do not give you consent?” He dared to ask.

“I am not asking, Lee Sun,” she replied with conviction.

To hear her say his real name brought about a fresh wave of guilt and resentment, the latter he was sure is directed to himself. There was no clock built to reverse time, to take back the choices he made, to undo what has been done, to alleviate their sorrows.

But there is probably a way to mend what they almost lost.

“Ga Eun-ah,” he called out of longing, closing the distance between them. His hands itched to take hers – to hold, to feel – but he didn’t. “Do you resent me so much?”

A tear slid down her cheek. Then another.

“It is breaking me not to.”

Taking a deep breath, the young king nodded. “Well then, safe travels, my queen.”