The Reckoning
848 Words
BLOOD AND SNOW
The healers worked through the night.
Sung waited outside Jiwon’s chambers, his hands still stained red, his body numb with something sharper than cold.
Because you’re the first real thing I’ve touched in years.
What did that mean?
What did any of this mean?
The door creaked open, and the head healer—a wiry woman with silver-streaked hair—stepped out. She looked exhausted.
“He’ll live,” she said, wiping her hands on a cloth. “But he lost a lot of blood. He needs rest.”
Sung exhaled, his knees nearly buckling in relief. “Can I see him?”
The healer studied him, her gaze lingering on the blood drying on his sleeves. Then she nodded. “Don’t wake him.”
The Duke’s Chambers
Jiwon lay still beneath the heavy furs, his face pale against the dark sheets. The firelight flickered over his sharp features, softening them in a way Sung had never seen before.
He looked younger like this. Vulnerable.
Sung sat beside the bed, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach out, to *make sure* Jiwon was really alive.
“You i***t,” he muttered. “You could’ve died.”
Jiwon didn’t stir.
Sung sighed, rubbing his face. He should leave. He should let Jiwon rest.
But he couldn’t make himself move.
THE KISS
Sung must have dozed off.
The chair beside Jiwon’s bed was unforgiving, its wooden frame digging into his spine, but exhaustion had won out. His head dipped forward, his lashes fluttering shut—just for a moment.
Then—
A hand fisted in the front of his shirt, yanking him down with startling strength.
Sung gasped, his eyes flying open as he was pulled off-balance. His palms slammed against the mattress on either side of Jiwon’s shoulders, barely catching himself before he collapsed fully on top of him.
And then—
His lips brushed Jiwon’s.
A whisper of contact. A fleeting warmth.
Sung froze.
Jiwon’s mouth was softer than he’d imagined. Slightly chapped from the cold, but warm—so warm. The scent of pine and iron clung to him, mingling with the faint sweetness of medicinal herbs.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then Jiwon’s breath hitched—a sharp, ragged sound—and his fingers tightened in Sung’s shirt. His other hand lifted, sliding up the nape of Sung’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair.
And then—
He kissed him back.
Not gently. Not carefully.
It was a claiming. A reckoning.
Heat flooded him, dizzying and bright.
His fingers curled into the sheets, his pulse roaring in his ears.
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
But it was.
Jiwon’s tongue traced the seam of his lips, demanding entry, and Sung—
Sung let him.
A moan threatened to escape him, but before it could, Jiwon tore away with a sharp inhale. His grip on Sung’s hair tightened almost painfully, his chest heaving.
His eyes—
Gods, his eyes.
Dark. Wild. Furious.
“Go.”
The word was a blade between them.
Sung’s lips tingled. His entire body burned.“Jiwon—”
“Now.”
The hand in his hair shoved him back.
Sung stumbled to his feet, his legs unsteady. He touched his mouth, his fingers trembling.
Jiwon had already turned his face away, his jaw clenched so tight Sung could see the muscle flicker.
The dismissal was clear.
So Sung fled.
And tried not to wonder if Jiwon even remembered it in the morning.
THE AFTERMATH
The castle halls blurred around him.
His heart pounded so loudly he was sure the entire fortress could hear it.
What the hell just happened?
Had Jiwon even been fully awake? Had he thought Sung was someone else?
Or—
No.
Sung shook his head, pressing his fingers to his mouth.
It didn’t matter.
Jiwon had told him to leave.
That was answer enough.
THE HUNT BEGINS
Dawn came too soon.
Sung hadn’t slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt Jiwon’s lips against his, the heat of his touch seared into his memory.
A knock at his door startled him.
One of Jiwon’s captains stood there, her expression grim. “The Duke wants you in the war room.”
Sung’s stomach twisted. “Is he—?”
“Alive? Yes.” Her gaze sharpened. “Angry? Also yes.”
Great.
Sung followed her through the castle, dread pooling in his gut.
Had Jiwon regretted the kiss? Was he about to banish Sung for crossing a line?
The war room doors swung open.
Jiwon stood at the head of a massive table, maps and daggers spread before him. His coat was draped over his shoulders, hiding his bandaged side, but his pallor betrayed his pain.
His eyes locked onto Sung.
Silver. Cold.
Unreadable.
“We’re hunting Kang Yohan.” His voice was like steel. “And you’re coming with me.”
Sung’s breath caught.
This wasn’t a dismissal.
It was a test.
And Sung had no choice but to rise to it.
___ to be continued ___
- Writer
