The smear of blood on the note stayed in Yena's thoughts long after she burned it.
It hadn't been symbolic.
The coppery scent had still clung to the parchment, sharp and fresh. Someone had been close enough to leave it on her windowsill. Again. And this time, they were making their threat clear:
You're in the game now.
The next morning, Yena was summoned to the Royal Shrine...a place even senior maids rarely entered.
"Don't speak unless spoken to," warned the attendant who guided her there. "And don't look directly at the Royal Dowager."
Yena didn't respond. She was too busy trying to quiet her pounding heart.
The shrine was high above the rest of the court, a place of incense and echoes. Carvings of dragons and phoenixes coiled along the pillars. Golden bells chimed from silken ropes, stirred by the mountain wind.
The Royal Dowager sat behind a screen of embroidered cranes, her form a silhouette in silver robes.
"You are the shaman girl," she said. Her voice was smooth and cold, like riverstone.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"They say the spirits listen to you. Is that true?"
Yena kept her head bowed. "Only when they choose to speak."
The Dowager was silent for a long moment. Then she said, "The dead speak in riddles. But they do not lie."
Yena hesitated. "No, Your Majesty."
Another pause.
"The eunuch who died... What did he tell you?"
Yena's stomach dropped. She had told no one. Not even Joon.
"I don't...."
"Don't lie to me."
Yena's mouth dried. "He said... someone silenced him. That he knew something dangerous. Something meant to protect the Crown Prince."
A soft breath, like amusement.
"Danger follows my grandson everywhere," the Dowager murmured. "Even in the womb, he brought misfortune."
Yena dared a glance at the screen. The old woman's face was veiled, but her presence was sharp and unmistakable....like steel wrapped in silk.
"Leave the dead be, shaman," she said. "If you wish to survive this palace."
Then she lifted one thin hand.
"You may go."
Outside, the mountain wind had grown stronger. Yena stood on the steps of the shrine, feeling the weight of those words press on her like a curse.
The Dowager knew about the ghost. The serpent faction knew she was involved. And the prince… the prince was using her for something he still hadn't revealed.
Am I a player, or a piece? she thought.
She didn't know. Not yet.
But she was beginning to understand one thing:
Everyone wanted the Crown Prince silenced.
And she might be the only one still listening to him.
That evening, Joon called for her again.
This time, the hall was dark. No candles. Only moonlight through the lattice.
He stood at the center, robe removed, chest bare. His skin glowed pale under the moon...except for the marks.
Dark, jagged scars coiled over his shoulder and down his side like vines. They looked almost burned in.
"Do you see them?" he asked.
Yena swallowed. "What happened to you?"
"These are my inheritance," he said quietly. "My mother died before she could teach me how to bear them."
Yena stepped forward. "They look like binding marks. But... they're fused into your blood."
"Cursed," he said. "The court calls it that. But they don't understand. This was meant to protect me. Until someone tried to twist it."
He looked at her, eyes sharp.
"Help me undo it."
Yena froze. "Undo a blood binding? That could kill you."
"Or free me."
"You're asking me to gamble with your life."
He gave a bitter smile. "It was never mine to begin with."