Chapter Text
Wook watches her enter and battles with how perplexed he feels with her indifference. Of all the women he had encountered, none had ever been indifferent to him. He is accustomed to being looked up to, being the icon of hope, of inspiration, of devotion, admiration or plain envy - apathy therefore, leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He had wanted her to curse him probably, or perhaps to try and do some real - lasting damage. After all the tale of the king’s Rose and three needles had reached his ears.
Disappointment must have colored his face, for when he meets her eye, there is a devastatingly malicious sense of satisfaction in them. Her lips curl into something sharp and cruel that no one would mistake for a smile as she steps closer.
“Oh don’t you worry - I’ve imagined at least ten different ways of cutting your throat on this very threshold. But then again, you know how I like my tea - dear brother in law, I like them steeped too long until the bitterest essence is squeezed out.” She drawls on the title that she chooses to address him with, informal enough to irk him but legitimate enough that he cannot fault her for not using his honorifics.
Wook steps back into the shadow of his guards, though - and he assures himself of this - he is in no way intimidated. Lady Kang had always been gifted with her tongue, he would be a fool if he falls for her pretence of bravado when he knows - very well at that - that this game is his.
“Divest Her Grace of her weapons.”
She arches a brow in perfect imitation of her beastly husband and his guard falters. Wook has to swallow to ease the tension that builds at his throat where the pulse is pounding against his airway. “In the name of the Emperor!” He has to remind the guards. Still they hesitate and the sarcasm is open and dripping from the look Jang Mi gives him.
“It takes a lot more than a man with a jade seal to deprive a Kang woman of her weapons.”
Sarcasm he could swallow and almost manage to smile with ease. This is the Jang Mi that Wook knew, the one that he almost married - that proud tilt of her chin, fire in her eyes and the edge to each word she spoke - he knew exactly how to handle her.
But the fate does not allow him the pleasure.
“Maybe all it takes is another woman.”
His mother walks out leisurely. In her gait is a confidence that he has seldom seen. Wook stiffens uncomfortably when the dowager Hwangbo comes to stand beside him.
“You are not the first woman to take pride in her heretic origins,” she allows her eyes to sweep over Jang Mi in a manner that draws and highlights the similar features she shared with her daughter. “I’ve longed to have a conversation with you - lady Kang,” she draws out the misplaced address and smiles sharply. “In my old years I tend to grow lonely. It is only natural that I had to find someone else to keep me company till you saw it profitable to accept my invitation.”
Jang Mi’s brows draw together in a mild sign of distress.
“Will you join me now or shall we keep Gyeonhwa waiting for a while longer?”
Wook notices the moment her facade cracks. Only someone with as sharp and knowing eye as his would have noticed her shoulders dropping a fraction.
“Perhaps Lady Kang does not mind some more blood on her hands lady mother,” he interjects almost innocently unable to help himself. The pleasure he could derive when it is his word that tips the balance of an argument is too much to concede to his mother - not when it is his efforts that she is reaping. He watches with satisfaction how her lower lip trembles. It is uncanny how - a scintilla - of Hae Soo renders Jang Mi powerless, susceptible. Gyeonhwagun should not matter to her - would not have mattered to her, had she truly been herself.
His mother doesn’t bother to repeat his command, just a gesture of her elegant, silver head is enough for the men he couldn’t maneuver on the emperor’s name. The first man that steps ahead snatches her sword without a struggle and two others apprehend her by the shoulders.
“You’ve made quite a spectacle - lady Kang,” says the dowager Hwangbo, her tone disapproving. “I am obliged in the name of my old friend to try and install some values in you which she clearly failed. Let us take this conversation somewhere more appropriate.”
She turns and walks back in, the guards dragging Jang Mi after them. Wook waits for a moment longer after the women had disappeared inside the walls, a nagging sense of doubt threatening to overtake his momentary bliss.
It had been too easy. Too easy to be true.
**
He has never played an easier hand. Wook wonders if he should arrange a tutor for the girl once their engagement is finalized. This lady Kang is the poorest opponent he had ever encountered.
“Do you play often, lady Kang?” He asks pleasantly, smiling at the young woman who sits before him - holding one of the black pieces between her fingers as she surveyed the game.
“I used to when my brother was in Shinju. Now that he is serving his majesty I’m afraid my skills have grown rusty.” She replies and places the piece, defending again. Wook sighs to himself. She had been defending his moves the entire game - so much so that the board was full of his pieces surrounding hers. He was growing tired of how easy this was becoming.
“You defend spectacularly,” he praises instead and is grateful when she ducks her head with a bashful smile. “But battle chess is not always about defending.”
He picks out one of his pawns and situates it in an attacking position.
“Now see here - if it had been a real battle, you just lost your grand general.”
She nods, studious and a little star - struck. Her cheeks are warm pink, as if she is ashamed of her own lack of foresight.
“I’ve never seen this game as a battle,” she confesses what he had already guessed. “You see I am never to march with troupes.” She surveys the board again and smiles once more. There is an edge to that smile however. “I was never required to learn battle field realities -”
“You can change it when you are -”
“I am above the battle field,” she cuts him off, her tone growing cooler. “I was taught to think not like the men that march to battle but like the man on whose order they march.” Her eyes gleam at him, no longer bashful or awed. “You see the difference,” she picks another piece and twirls it in her hand. “…between the two is that the soldier do not have time - the monarch does. The soldier cannot wait - a king can. And ultimately the victory is not the soldier’s but the king’s.”
She places it where his pawn had moved into and Wook feels his brows gathering. He had missed something - vital.
“If you want to win - your highness,” she says slyly now, her moves devovering his pieces as she goes, no longer defensive but attacking, forcing him into the corner. She had simply pretended to play a lousy game while maneuvering him exactly where she had needed him to be. The wicked thing! “…You should think like a king, instead of a follower of his command.”
“You play quite well.” He admits despite himself.
She bows now, graceful but radiating power.
“I see this game as revenge and I like revenge how I like my tea. Steeped too long and extracted to the last of its bitter essence. “
**
Perhaps he should stop his mother. Wook thinks feeling the creases of his forehead digging in making themselves known. This has to be a ploy that woman has thought up - the lady of Kangs was one poisonous rose that could kill even when it is scattered on the ground. But - he pauses, he is no longer certain if his mother would be willing to listen. The last time he had seen her so thrilled she had ordered some vital political pawn killed.
“I don’t think you wish to fight anymore,” she tells Jang Mi, reaching with maternal warmth to wipe a drop of blood trickling down her chin. She steps back for a moment assessing the damage before taking her seat, gracefully as if it was a throne instead of a wooden chair of an investigation room. “After all you should think about the baby.”
Without the context her words sound concerned. She bounces Seol on her knee in a grandmother -ly fashion even when her gray eyes remain threateningly sharp.
“You shouldn’t have escaped the guards lady Kang,” she continues unhurriedly. “They would not have harmed you. In fact, I had already arranged with them for you to be brought here. I still have need of you. Your escape only created unwanted hurdles for my objectives.”
“You cannot kill me,” Jang Mi summarizes.
“Yet,” his mother corrects. “Your life would only burden the reign of my son - you and your children.”
“Your son is no longer a part of the line of inheritance!”
“It can easily be corrected.” His mother contradicts dismissively. “There are no other princes of better title. And you have only Anjong to blame for this delay. Had he not removed the princess of Ryu from my plans I did not have immediate need of you.”
Jang Mi takes that information calmly. Baek Ah did not tell her he had reached any sort of understanding with Seo Nui, but it seemed he had. “Still,” the old dowager continues. “You are easier to move - are you not lady Kang? After all I expected more from the Ryu Princess. I misunderstood her reasons. You on the other hand are easier to understand - we are similar you and I - mothers bound by the betterment of their children.”
She draws in to a surprised pause when Jang Mi snorts a laughter.
“It’s amusing how many women believe they are similar to me. My aunt had made the same mistake.” She tells the old woman. “The difference is - your ladyship tends to talk too much with your enemy.” She folds her arms, enjoying the flicker of irritation crossing the woman’s eyes. “I longed for a conversation with your ladyship as well. The woman lingering in the shadows…the tiger flower phoenix.”
The words dawn upon the wrinkled face, etching her features in stone.
“There are questions that a dead woman left behind - I think your ladyship could answer.”
The woman trips when she rises to her feet, worried eyes drifting to his son who watches them from the threshold. Jang Mi does not let the opportunity slip by, as she snatches Seol from those trembling arms.
“You -!”
“You cannot kill me yet,” she reminds her of her own earlier gloating. “And if I am correctly assuming your need of me - perhaps this bargain is not as easy as you thought it would be.”
“Don’t forget lady Kang I have -”
“You don’t have Gyeonhwa,” Jang Mi cuts her off. “If you did you’d have brought that thing and demanded me to read it.” Her cool logic silences the old woman, even as her face darkens with anger. “No. You calculated to bargain one against the other did you not? You will get Gyeonhwa to come by holding me captive. She is not here yet. If you wish to corporate you will give me what I want in return. You will answer my questions.”
“You are forgetting your place - lady Kang. I could very well have your daughter killed. Do you wish that to happen?”
Jang Mi remains impassive, yet her grip tightens on the baby she holds against herself.
“Kill her and you will never know what is written on that penitent’s confession.”
The dowager growls, as if she had physically harmed her. There is an obsession distorting her face, unlike any she had seen before.
“Mother,” Wook sounds pleading, half frightened himself.
“Throw her in the dungeons!” The dowager screams, “throw her! Take her away from my sight! Take her!”
Jang Mi inhales deeply. Madness does not scare her, her aunt had been a very proficient teacher in bouts of madness. But now that she pushes on, finally when the pieces have started to move the way she wanted an odd realization takes hold of her.
“You killed her - did you not? You killed the queen.”