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The warm glow of the firelight flickered over the close walls of the inn room and the lean muscles of Chang’s unclothed chest. Neither the scar on his right shoulder from the monster’s bite that had never healed properly, nor the other marks he’d picked up over the years, could marr the beauty and power of his form. She knelt beside the pallet he lay on, trying not to appreciate the sight.
The night was still and silent around them, and the pleasant scent of her healing herbs wafted in the air around them.
In other circumstances, it might have been an intimate moment. To her, it still felt kind of intimate, even though this was certainly not the first time she’d seen him partially undressed, and the circumstances weren’t remotely romantic. And perhaps the moment felt somewhat intimate to her companion, too, though he hid it well. His pulse jumped under her fingers at her light touch.
Seo Bi eyed the angry gash at the base of Chang’s ribcage and sighed. “You really must stop getting injured,” she scolded with as much heat as she dared to muster.
He gave her a pained smile. “At least I have the best physician in the country to heal me each time.”
She held herself still, though the compliment suffused her soul. She busied herself readying her needle and thread, and dropping herbs in the hot water she’d requested from the proprietor. It did neither of them any good to acknowledge the way he affected her.
He may have faked his own death and abdicated his claim to the throne, but they were still of different worlds.
Seo Bi gave Chang something to bite down on, and he immediately put in between his teeth. They’d done this often enough over the last few years of their travels together that they both knew the routine. First, because they’d discovered pockets of the monsters that hadn’t yet been dealt with. Then, as time went one, because Chang had occasionally had to sell his sword to pay for their travels.
Their friends in the palace funnelled them money to fund their expedition, but due to Chang and Seo Bi’s constant movement, and the necessity of keeping the payments secret, the money couldn’t be regular. And Seo Bi was happy to heal people when she could, but not enough people trusted a female physician, or were willing to pay full price for her services.
Still, the two of them did what they had to in order to discover the secrets of the resurrection plant and prevent another plague from devastating their lands again.
Even if it meant Chang was her most frequent client.
Chang took the leather strap from between his teeth and held her gaze. “I suppose this means we’ll have to stay here another few days?”
His voice was carefully neutral. Seo Bi’s eyes slid from his as she hesitated in her answer. Finally, she nodded. “It’s bad enough that I don’t think we should travel so soon.”
Chang sighed, and Seo Bi knew exactly how he felt. They avoided towns as much as possible these days, preferring to set up camps in the forests and mountains. While it was less comfortable in some ways, in others… well, at least it allowed for some distance between them.
They’d realised early on that they’d have to tell some untruths as they travelled. Chang’s true identity could never be known, since if it was discovered it could lead to a war. He still had his supporters throughout the country - even more since his supposed death had mythologised him somewhat - and the rumours about the current king’s parentage had never fully disappeared.
And, besides, if Chang and Seo Bi wanted to travel together, largely on their own, they needed to come up with some kind of reason.
The most obvious one being that they were husband and wife.
The first time they’d attempted it had been strange, indeed. The words “husband” and “wife” had felt so foreign to both of them that they had inevitably come out stilted. And then there was their names. Seo Bi was still calling the former prince Your Highness, and suddenly she had to call him by his given name. Even now, years later, the word still felt strange on her tongue. In private, she still called him by his former title, even though he’d somehow become “Chang” in her mind. It put some necessary distance between them, even as Chang told her it no longer felt like a title he should use. It no longer felt like him.
Thankfully they hadn’t needed to play a particularly loving couple in public - in fact, it would have drawn more attention if they had. But it did mean that they were often assigned a room together, particularly in smaller establishments.
Seo Bi had learned many small, intimate details of Chang that her heart could have done not knowing. His scent, the sound of him washing behind the screens, the fact that he was so still when he slept.
Except when he had nightmares.
On those nights he would sweat and shake and cry out. Whereas Seo Bi was more likely to toss restlessly and whimper when her nightmares inevitably came.
Those were the nights that broke all their unspoken rules. Though they’d never discussed it, they knew that if one of them had a nightmare, the other could comfort them, with words or touch. It felt too cruel otherwise when one so badly needed comfort and the other so badly desired to give it.
In the morning, though, they wouldn’t mention it. Just one more thing they could never say aloud.
“We might have had to stay a little longer, anyway,” Chang told her as she tied off the final stitch, his teeth clenching in pain over the final word.
“Sorry.” Seo Bi cursed herself for letting his words distract her, but he should know better than to talk while she treated him. “But what do you mean? What happened out there?” All she’d known before he left was that the villagers had pooled their money together to offer payment for any men that would help take care of some bandits that had been raiding their food stores and causing other destruction. The village was a poor one, and could ill-afford people taking their precious supplies.
Chang shifted on the pallet as Seo Bi dabbed some of the herb-steeped water on his wound.
“The bandits were more worried about protecting something out there than saving their own lives. As soon as they realised we’d snuck up on them, they went on the attack. Fast and furious. That’s how I got injured.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, despite the fact that the just-stitched wound must be agony.
“A group of them ran,” he continued, “leading us on a chase through the mountains. When I realised that they’d deliberately taken us away from their base camp, I went back to see what they were hiding.”
Seo Bi’s breath caught in her throat. “The resurrection plant?”
He nodded. “I think so. I couldn’t get close enough to confirm it, I didn’t want to risk it while injured. But from a distance it certainly looked like that plant.”
“And if they were protecting it, chances are they know what it does.”
“Exactly,” he agreed. Their eyes met, communicating all that needed to be said. Seo Bi ignored the jolt in her heart and focused on practicalities, as always.
“We have to confirm that it is the resurrection plant. Hopefully we can get one of the bandits to tell us how they know its use.”
“And where they got it,” Chang added. “I don’t think it was deep enough in the mountains for it to have grown there naturally.”
Seo Bi sat back, the energy of a moment ago snatched out of her like a splinter. “This isn’t a coincidence, is it? For years, we barely found any evidence of the plant, only hidden patches here and there. And yet in the last few months, we’ve encountered it multiple times.”
Chang was silent, but she read the answer in his face.
“I can’t bear to go through that again,” she whispered. “We can’t let them use the plant. We just can’t.”
“I know,” he agreed.
They didn’t say anything else, the weight of the coming storm laying over them like the thickest fog. Seo Bi could sense that disaster was right around the corner, and the look on Chang’s face told her that he knew it, too. Their seven years of peace would end soon.
Not that either of them had ever truly been at peace. The nightmares could attest to that. And their focus on their mission. Another plague had always been coming, the question had only ever been when .
Apparently, the answer was now.
Seo Bi drew in an unsteady breath. “Perhaps I should have spent the last few years researching harder for a cure. Or an inoculation against the plague. Some way to neutralise the plant. Surely there was a way I could have prevented this.”
Seo Bi snapped her mouth shut, upset with herself for voicing her vulnerabilities aloud. Another unspoken rule she had with Chang - never share anything too personal that might cause them to grow closer. Over the years, they’d already learned too much about each other for her peace of mind.
A warm weight settled on her hand and Seo Bi glanced down to see Chang’s fingers curl over hers.
“This isn’t your fault,” he told her, his voice hoarse.
Seo Bi swallowed, her throat thick. She was suddenly very aware of Chang’s bare chest and the tender look in his eyes. Her pulse quickened. This moment was breaking all their rules, and she couldn’t even tear herself away.
Chang continued, his words holding her spellbound. “You’ve worked day and night - healing people and looking after me, all the while carrying on with your research. You’ve battled mistrust, a lack of resources, and few subjects to study, and yet you’ve still managed to find out more about the plant than anyone else. We both knew this was coming, it’s why we’ve done what we have for the last seven years. You can’t blame yourself, Seo Bi. I won’t allow it.”
A shiver ran down her spine. His words of praise and encouragement, his use of her given name, and the note of command in his voice combined to make her skin prick and her heart throb.
They were moving into very dangerous territory here, and Seo Bi had no idea why Chang had decided to cross the invisible line they had drawn for themselves so long ago and had so rigidly held themselves to.
But she couldn’t tear down that barrier and she definitely couldn’t let him take her with him on this new path.
“Your Highness,” she said deliberately, untangling her hands from his and rising. His hand hovered for a reluctant moment before falling to the pallet. “Thank you for the kind words. I should let you rest.”
It had to be pain making him this way tonight. Perhaps she’d accidentally given him some herbs that induced drowsiness and delirium.
“Seo Bi,” he murmured, a slight pleading tone in his voice. Her heart cracked open just a little.
“I’ll allow you to rest, Your Highness. Should you need anything, I won’t be gone long.”
She fled the room, and the sound of his unhappy sigh.
The fresh night air brushed against her heated cheeks as she cracked open the front door of the inn and slipped outside. It was a few hours yet until dawn, and no one was awake to witness her turmoil. She pressed her back against the wall and closed her eyes.
Surely Chang would regret his actions tonight. They had spent seven years side-by-side, careful to never give voice or action to any emotion other than that which distant colleagues might feel for each other.
What had caused this change in him? It threatened to upend everything they had held together for so long. She was surprised to find herself angry at him. Angry that he would take her hand and look at her tenderly after all this time, making her heart beat faster. She also found herself tempted. More tempted than she had ever let herself be before to look her fill of that magnificent chest, to trace her fingers softly over his scars, to kiss him thoroughly until morning.
And that made her even angrier.
She’d just have to believe it was pain from his injury. He couldn’t really be trying to confess to her now. Or seduce her. Or...whatever it was he’d tried to do.
Or, worse...maybe she’d misread the situation. Maybe his kind words and comforting gesture had only been meant platonically. Perhaps she had only, secretly, wished to see that soft look in his eyes.
Which would be even more mortifying.
But even if he had only meant to convey friendship, that still crossed their boundaries by a significant amount. Over the years, they had unwillingly fallen into friendship. A deep, lasting one of the kind that blossomed when people spent every waking moment together, and endured hard times at one another’s side.
And yet it was completely reluctant on their part, and totally unacknowledged. Seo Bi liked to think they could continue pretending they were distant colleagues, even to themselves. To admit how much they cared for each other, understood each other, relied on each other, was only a small step into admitting far more emotionally fraught things that would end up betraying everything they both believed.
Regardless of what had actually happened in that room tonight, she couldn’t let things change between them. Not now. Not ever.
Marriage between them was certainly out of the question. And she had always believed that Chang had too much respect for her than to try to make her his concubine. So what could be left?
She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about these things. Not when the threat of the resurrection plant had finally blossomed into something tangible. Instead, she would just pretend none of it even happened, and hope that Chang did the same. It was all that would preserve the fragile balancing act they had walked for so long.
By the time Seo Bi returned to the room, Chang had donned a shirt and fallen into slumber. Seo Bi let out a breath of relief and dragged her pallet deeper into the far corner.
And prayed neither of them would have nightmares tonight.