The sleep that you had managed to get that night was a bare wink.
After your panic had ceased, you realized just how reckless your actions had been. Fighting with Minho was not the move to make, not if you wanted your plan to proceed smoothly.
Now that it had come to this, you should have prioritized your success over the possible aftermath. That was what the rational part of your brain suggested.
But instead, you had acted out of guilt. Fear for him. Deep down, you did not want Minho to be hurt like Jeongin had been. It was the same for everyone you had met in this lifetime, but Minho was slightly different. Almost special.
He was your beacon of light, after all. His brilliance was a treasure you wished to never be lost.
Regardless, you had to make amends somehow. Tonight was the most important night of your life, and it had to pass exactly as you envisioned. That demanded Minho's cooperation.
You took in your reflection in the tall mirror blankly. The dress your handmaidens had fitted you in was a magnificent puff of a very dark blue. A twisting embroidery of flowers adorned the neckline and dotted the sheer sleeves, which were snug around your arms. Emeralds encrusted your ears, paired with the large gem resting against the base of your neck and the intricate accessory crowning your head. They had taken special care to prepare you for tonight's banquet, for it was in celebration of your birthday.
It was a party that would last until midnight on the eve of your birthday, as was the tradition in your kingdom. It worked perfectly with your plans. The Crown Prince would not dare attack in the midst of all the attendees.
The gown you were wearing was meant to make you feel special on this night, but instead, it felt like you were dressed for battle. The soft knock that sounded on the door just then was the battle drum, signaling the beginning of your fateful fight.
"Come in," you answered, almost sure of who stood behind that door. Your chance to make amends was here.
When Minho stepped in, a hush settled among your previously buzzing handmaidens. The tension between the two of you was not missed on them, it seemed. Unsurprisingly, for as formal as the two of you might have been, you had always been amicable.
This was a first.
"I've come to escort you. Are you ready?" his question sounded emotionless, which made you turn and smile kindly at your handmaidens. "Thank you all. You are dismissed."
Released from the awkward atmosphere, they scurried out of the room, and you were left to face Minho alone.
His attire for the evening seemed to match yours. A sharp suit of dark blue, lacking his usual shoulder cape, with an embroidery of miniature flowers sewn into the cuffs and lapels. The emerald on his necktie was like a mirror to the one on your neck, glittering and precious.
Dressed like this, the two of you looked like the ideal noble couple, but the unresolved tensions from last night stood between you like a forbidding wall. A barrier that you had constructed yourself, yet it was one that you had to demolish by your own hands.
"Lord Minho," you began with a deep inhale, drawing his dejected attention with the formality of your words. It may have been close to a year since the two of you married, but this verbal distance was something you needed to maintain on your behalf. Like a constant reminder. Though, it was not unprecedented for noble couples to address one another with their titles.
"I apologize for my unseemly outburst last night. I...do hope you would find it in your heart to forgive me," you said. "It saddens me to celebrate tonight with such unsavory tension between us."
Your words were true, and you meant them from the deepest crevices of your heart, even though they played perfectly into your plans. You realized that you did not like the idea of ending things on a bitter note and hurting Minho, despite thinking you were content with the notion beforehand.
With a faint shake of his head, Minho's shoulders dropped, his response surprising, "No, it is I who should be apologizing to you.
"I realize that I might have sprung my feelings on you at an inappropriate time. Today is the day you had been dreading all along, after all. I should have been more considerate of that fact."
"N-No really..." there it was again. You never knew how to respond to him when he spoke like this. Magnanimous understanding, a kindness that was never blameful, never shallow. Even now, on a night when you knew so well you could no longer relish in these feelings, your heart warmed.
Who could have thought that the cruel and calculating man you had chosen to be your aide was capable of such sensitivity? You were in the wrong too and yet—
"I still should not have been so harsh," you managed, your voice small after all your earlier bravado seemed to betray you. You had no qualms about apologizing to someone before, when had it become such an awkward feat?
"Perhaps the blame falls on us both," Minho conceded, a light small finding home on his lips before he held his hand out like a peace offering. "Let us agree to forgive one another. I, too, would hate for your party to pass like this."
You took his hand without a moment's hesitation, mimicking his smile. "I agree, let us do that."
And so, the tension that was wound so tightly around you was eased and the two of you began to make your way toward the banquet hall.
"I stationed the guards as we have discussed previously," Minho told you as you walked with him through the grand hallways of the palace. "No soul will be able to enter or leave without our knowledge, and should there be intruders, we would be alerted immediately."
You hummed in acknowledgment, carefully taking in the information. This banquet was no mere celebration. It was your shield from the Crown Prince. As long as you remained amidst the guests, protected by the guarded walls of the palace, you would be safe. Once the clock struck midnight, he would pose no danger to you anymore. And then...
"Are you sure he'll show?" Minho's tone was tense and wrought with concern when he asked, and you shrugged. You knew the Prince enough to know he would not take his defeat lying down.
"He will try, at the very least."
Minho was silent for a moment before muttering, "He should be in Rowonne as of now..."
Right. Your intelligence networks last reported that the Prince was still in his castle, tending after his supposedly ill father. No movement was detected from him, yet.
You found his quietness to be highly suspicious.
Though, you knew that Minho's worry was not only caused by the royal's uncertain whereabouts. Word was yet to reach you from Felix, who had left with a delegation from Valorieve to demand an audience with the King some three weeks ago.
By now, he should have been on the road back to his homeland, carrying with him news of the King's death.
Instead, you had heard nothing from him since his arrival in Rowonne.
The lack of correspondence must be plaguing Minho's mind, you determined. This was a period of importance for his own plans, and his brother's life may as well be in terrible danger.
"Don't worry," you could only offer weak reassurance. "I'm sure that Lord Felix is safe, and that you'll hear from him soon enough. And...we've prepared well for tonight, so it will hopefully pass without trouble."
"You're right. He is not a helpless boy," Minho sighed, though his words seemed to convince him very little. He shifted his gaze to settle on you, grave in its seriousness. "As for the banquet, I think it best if you remained by my side for its duration."
"Of course." you looked away, feeling slightly embarrassed by the earnestness in his tone. You had intended to stick to him throughout the banquet anyway. "I was not planning on doing otherwise."
Before you realized it, the two of you reached the grand doors of the banquet hall. A couple of guards, who stood vigilant by the entrance, pushed the doors open for the two of you, and you heard the head butler on the other side declare your names to the hall of attendees.
"Right. Before we go in..." Minho paused and turned his head toward you. There was a twinkle in his cunning eyes, playful yet every bit sincere when he remarked, "You look beautiful, Y/n."
Without sparing you a beat to process his words, he stepped into the dazzling lights of the banquet hall. You could only trail after him, speechless at the start of the most important night of your life.
• • •
You could taste sorrow in every sip of your wine. Has the drink always been so bitter or was this a new concoction specially made for your fateful banquet?
Everywhere you looked you saw the faces of family and friends. Kind, joyful faces that looked upon you with love and pride, gentle gazes not at all aware of the rampant discord in your heart.
It was a crushing sense of melancholy. A ruthless blade that seemed to cut more of your composure as the night passed. Every person in that banquet hall and everything in it was a stark reminder of what was to come—what you were to lose.
A hurtful notion, it wriggled deep and deeper into your mind like an unwelcome guest with every faux smile and empty remark you mustered.
You had thought that lifetimes of losing the same things would have prepared you better for this. Perhaps desensitized you to the pain of an impending farewell. Foolishly, you had survived the day thinking you could make it through the night without this terrible pain.
But it was always there.
Every lifetime.
When the critical hour inched closer, every emotion you had long buried arose, benevolent like a tide in a dark night's ocean. Fear, unease, and worst of all, grief so vast you could only cower before it.
Tonight was no exception.
The tenth hour chimed, and it became almost difficult to breathe. Such a suffocating sentiment. Had you not boasted better than this?
You gave Minho's sleeve a furtive tug, and when he leaned ever so slightly to your side, you muttered a question into your glass, "Could we move to the gardens?"
Perhaps noticing your silent distress, Minho's whispered agreement came swiftly, "Of course."
He turned casually to regard the nobles around you, and a charming smile quirked his lips as he brought up the suggestion to them, "My friends and honored guests, would you care to join us under the light of the stars for a change of scenery? The gardens were earlier prepared for us to enjoy."
He needed not charm them so, for they had always been eager to take his suggestions, happy to crowd him wherever he went. When the murmurs of approval rose among them, you dared to glance up at Minho and the ever-glowing halo that surrounded him.
Oh, he was the worst reminder of them all.
A person you had deliberately chosen after years of meticulous planning, he had unknowingly barged into your heart one day and claimed part of it for himself. And you were almost helpless in the face of his sudden conquest. No matter how many times you attempted to drive him out, he remained stubbornly there, until you had raised your white flags in surrender.
You let this uncanny affection linger and grow as you tried to pay it no mind. As though it were not an attachment born of your heart's truest hopes and deepest wishes.
Someone—anyone who could save you.
A star so glorious it could diminish the night.
How heavy a shame it was that you would have to lose sight of that star very soon.
You were at the forefront of the crowd of guests streaming into the palace gardens, all easy smiles and flattering words, when a breeze so gentle in its coldness caressed your cheeks, welcoming you outside.
You filled your chest with the crisp night air and willed yourself to forget, bade your heart to quieten. You had no taste for melancholy tonight. As the faces around you changed and you exchanged pleasantries with more guests, you forced yourself to accept that fact.
For the plan's sake, you could not afford more than anxiety to keep your thoughts busy.
"Lady Valorieve," a familiar voice called out, and you turned in its direction, spotting your friend approaching with a lovely smile on her tinted lips.
"Lady Geale," you mirrored her to the best of your ability, trying to hide your agitation behind the sincerity you truly did hold toward her, "I had been awaiting your company. Please, join us—!"
There was a snap of a bow and a scream of air. Then, there was burning pain.
Your thoughts were thrown into upheaval as were your surroundings. You could hear the shouting of your guests intermingled with that of your guards. Glass shattering. Ears ringing.
A hand clasped your shoulder roughly and brought you into an embrace as though to shield you. "Y/n! Are you all right? Gods—you're bleeding!"
You could make out Minho's frantic words in the midst of it all and you tried to right yourself against him. It was merely a scratch, you did not need to cushion your head against his chest for it. "I'm fine. It missed me."
Miraculously so.
The arrow that shot at you came from somewhere deep within the garden's greenery and was a hair's breadth away from impaling your shoulder. It seemed that only a miracle found it instead buried in one of the rose bushes circling the clearing. Fortunately, it collected no other victims as it made its way there.
"Still, you must be tended to immediately," Minho argued, gaze roaming everywhere, taking in the movements of all his guards and guests. Gone was the merry host of a few moments ago. Now, a grave seriousness had settled between his dark brows and voided his voice of any humor when he added, "It's too dangerous for you to remain here. We must return to the palace."
It was indeed dangerous. That arrow could not have been a mistake and it would not have been difficult for the Renocault Order to infiltrate the palace grounds. The realization thumped inside your heart wildly—your enemies were here.
Minho began moving, his strides long and purposeful, and you had no choice but to follow. He held you as if he would be your shelter and shield under a hail of arrows, not once bothered by the smear of your blood on his priceless suit.
From the corner of your eye, you saw a flurry of guards run into the depths of the garden, chasing the culprit, furtive flickers of silver armor against the light of their blazing torches. Their success was uncertain, unlikely, even. Your would-be assassin had probably escaped by now, set on a fresh plan to get to you, and for all your bolstered defenses, you knew that they would eventually find you.
It was a certainty you felt in your chest, as sure and true as the breath puffing out of it.
When you and Minho made it back into the banquet hall, Ryujin materialized before you, a slight expression of concern on her stoic countenance. "My lady, what—"
"Her ladyship has been injured," Minho interjected hastily, not sparing a breath before giving his orders, "You are to take her away and tend to her wound. The knights will protect you."
Understanding dawned on her and she squared her shoulders, furrowing her brows when she said, "Please follow me, then, my lady."
"Go," Minho murmured as he loosened his protective hold on you. "I will be with you shortly."
He was trying to maintain his calm, but you could see the agitation so softly twitching in his jaw. This was not an unexpected turn of events. You had presented the possibility of a remote attack during the many meetings you held in preparation for tonight. However, it was a possibility you deemed outrageous. It was far too risky for the Crown Prince. For him to pull such an audacious attack meant only that he was more than simply desperate. He was far gone.
The Prince had likely lost his wits.
Surely, they could not have predicted that you would step out in the open during the banquet. It must be then that their initial plan was to shatter the windows of the banquet hall and shoot indiscriminately, attacking your guests alongside yourself. If so, how long had they been camping out there, slipping under the nose of the palace guard?
Minho seemed to have arrived at the same grim conclusions. Your safety was not the only one under threat anymore. Every soul in this hall was.
And it fell upon his shoulders to end this chaos before it fully ensued.
With a last glance of farewell, you parted with Minho and fell in hurried step behind Ryujin. The graze from the arrow stung on your shoulder, exposed to the elements, but you could not feel it over the numbness that engulfed your mind.
It was happening. It was finally happening.
This was the hour you had anticipated with your heart lodged in your throat. You were unsure if you were thankful for its arrival, or if you missed the ignorance of a mere minutes ago, when all you could do was wait and imagine all the ways this could unfold. All the ways your plan could go awry.
Your guards joined you once you left the hall, led by an unquestioning Seungmin. He was briefed on tonight's special protocol, but it seemed that the commotion inside had not reached them yet, contained by the extravagant walls of the banquet hall. You supposed you were thankful for that. The peace made it easier to spot any intruders.
You reached your destination without trouble and slipped into your guarded chambers, leaving Seungmin and his squad to join the rest of the knights at your door. Ryujin ushered you to rest on one of the plump couches in your sitting room, and it took only a few moments of patience until a physician entered your chamber, carrying with him a trusty medical kit.
Your wound was a little deeper than a scratch, but harmless, nonetheless. Whoever made the shot must have been overly hasty to miss the target so terribly, you thought, grimacing lightly as your injury was disinfected. You supposed you should be thankful for their incompetence.
After your shoulder was bandaged, the physician left, and Ryujin turned to the matter of your ruined dress. As she rummaged through your dressing room, you found yourself wandering in the dark maze of your thoughts.
It was quiet. And it unsettled you.
That attack was sudden and it was followed by silence. Was the Crown Prince acting alone? Who was your foe for tonight and where was his army?
Being separated from Minho seemed to bother you as well. Did he not declare that he would be with you shortly? Where was he now? Did he manage to apprehend the assassin, or did harm befall him while you escaped?
It was quiet. And it plagued your mind with questions.
"My lady." Ryujin stepped out of the dressing room, announcing, "I have selected a few dresses for you to look at."
"Thank you," you sighed. Perhaps busying yourself with a trivial task such as this would ease your distress until your husband arrived.
But when you stood up to make your way to the dressing room, something crashed through the doors of the balcony, sending shards of glass into the air like a crystalline rain.
Something that was much larger and heavier than an arrow, and infinitely, infinitely worse.
You stared at the face of your darkest nightmares, and he laughed.
"There you are!"