Morning came quietly.
Bella and Ji-ho left the widow's house before the sun fully rose, moving with the careful respect of people who knew they had been given shelter, not permission to linger.
Mist hugged the ground, thick and silver, clinging to their ankles as they stepped onto the narrow forest road. Smoke still curled faintly from the house behind them, the last sign of warmth in a world that was already shifting back toward pursuit and consequence.
Neither of them spoke at first.
The forest felt different in daylight, less threatening, perhaps, but no less watchful. Birds called overhead, sharp and alert. Somewhere far off, something moved through brush, then stilled.
Bella walked slightly ahead, eyes scanning, senses open. Ji-ho followed, closer than before, his steps quieter now, more deliberate. He had learned, even in a single night, how quickly the forest punished carelessness.
After a while, he broke the silence.
"If Poong Yeon was sent east," he said, low, "and the river carried us that way… we should have crossed paths by now."
Bella nodded. "Which means one of three things."
He glanced at her. "He missed us."
"Or," she continued calmly, "he found something else. Or someone stopped him."
Ji-ho's jaw tightened. He didn't ask who might have stopped him. They both knew.
They walked on.
The path widened slightly, then narrowed again, bending around a rise thick with old trees. And then, movement.
Bella halted instantly, arm lifting just enough to stop Ji-ho without touching him.
Figures stepped out from between the trees ahead. Not one. Not two.
Ten.
They were spread loosely, deliberately, men dressed in mismatched armor and worn cloth, blades visible but not raised. Faces hardened by hunger, weather, and long years of choosing survival over obedience.
The resistance.
The rebels.
Ji-ho inhaled slowly, steadying himself. He did not reach for a weapon. He remembered what Bella had told him before—read intention before action.
The man at the center stepped forward. Broad-shouldered. Scar across his cheek. The same leader they had encountered before.
"Well," he said, voice rough but not unfriendly. "You're still in the forest."
His gaze flicked between them, sharp, curious. "We thought you'd have found your way home by now, your highness."
Bella met his eyes without flinching. "The forest had other plans."
A low chuckle moved through the group.
"You're brave," the man said. "Or foolish."
"Usually both," Bella replied.
That earned her a look of approval.
Before the leader could speak again, hurried footsteps approached from behind the rebel line. One of the younger men pushed forward, breathing hard.
"Leader," he said, urgent. "I saw someone."
The mood shifted instantly.
"Where?" the leader demanded.
"Not far from here. A man dressed like a royal guard. Alone. Asking questions." The rebel's eyes slid to Ji-ho, then Bella. "Asking about them."
Ji-ho's heart stuttered.
Poong Yeon.
Bella didn't hesitate. "Can you take us to where you saw him?"
The rebel nodded. "I can."
The leader studied them both for a long moment, then gestured sharply. "We move together."
They didn't argue.
The rebels fell into formation around them, not tight enough to feel like capture, not loose enough to be careless. As they walked, the leader drifted closer to Ji-ho's side.
"You're going back to the palace," he said quietly, not a question.
"Yes," Ji-ho replied.
"And when you do," the man continued, "do you have proof of what as unfolded here this past month?"
Ji-ho didn't pretend not to understand. "I'm gathering them. Slowly. Carefully."
The leader grunted. "You'll need more than caution to bring down a man like the Prime Minister, and his followers."
"I know," Ji-ho said. Then, firmer, "I would welcome your help greatly."
That surprised the man. He looked at Ji-ho anew, not as a lost prince, but as a player stepping onto a dangerous board.
"I can help," the leader said at last. "But listen to me." His voice dropped. "When you return to that palace, open your eyes. Watch who speaks too quickly. Who smiles too easily. Wisdom there isn't loud, it hides."
Ji-ho bowed his head slightly. "I will remember your words."
The leader slowed, falling back, then shifted, deliberately, until he was walking beside Bella.
"You," he said.
She glanced at him. "Me."
"You protect him," the leader said bluntly. "He's a good man. A rare one, in those halls." His gaze sharpened. "He will need someone loyal only to him. Someone who won't let him lose his way."
Bella's expression softened, just a fraction. "I'll do my best."
"That's all anyone can ask," the leader said.
The trees thinned ahead.
And then—
"Your Highness!"
Poong Yeon burst from the brush like a man resurrected, sword half-drawn before recognition struck. His face drained of color, then flooded with relief so sharp it nearly broke him.
Ji-ho stepped forward at once. "Poong Yeon."
The guard dropped to one knee, breath unsteady. "Thank the heavens," he said hoarsely. "I feared the worst."
Bella exhaled, tension finally easing from her shoulders.
They were found.
Laughter broke out among the rebels, brief and rough, as reunions always were among people who lived close to death.
Before more could be said, hoofbeats sounded from the road beyond the trees.
Royal guards emerged—quiet, disciplined, banners absent just as the Queen Dowager had ordered. Their leader dismounted swiftly, bowing deep.
"By command of His Majesty," he said, eyes lifting to Ji-ho, "we are here to escort you home."
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Bella looked once more at the rebel leader. He inclined his head, a promise unspoken but understood.
Ji-ho straightened.
The road ahead no longer led into hiding,
But straight toward the palace.