The Girl King (The Girl King #1)(62)

Applause filled the Heart. Min nearly rose from her seat to join in. Some primal response to such concentrated, powerful emotion.

In all likelihood, there was scarcely a person alive in Yulan City—be they the head of a sky manse household or a blacksmith working out of a hovel in the Second Ring—who had thought much about Yunis in the last seventeen years. Longer than Min’s entire life. And yet, with a few well-chosen words, each person present seemed to believe with utter conviction that this war on Yunis was of the greatest urgency. As though it had been their own sons or husbands or brothers slain on the northern front.

She looked again toward Set’s empty throne. Past it, her mother’s face was frozen in a rictus of dismay. The anger and agitation radiating from her now was nearly palpable.

She didn’t know, either, Min realized with shock. She had assumed her mother was as close to Set’s plans as anyone.

Well, Min amended, perhaps not anyone.

Behind the empty throne, Brother smiled placidly into the middle distance.



“I thought you were going to announce the banishment of the Ellandaise,” Min’s mother groused as they made their way down the corridor leading out of the rear of Kangmun Hall, flanked by Brother and Set’s gaggle of eunuchs. “When did you decide—”

“I don’t have time to run all of my plans past you, Aunt Rinyi,” Set snapped.

“A war is a fairly significant omission!”

The empress shouldered past Min as she spoke, pushing her into the wall. Min pressed her palms against it to keep from falling, then lapsed into formation behind her mother.

“It went over well, don’t you think?” Set mused. He turned to Brother. “You were right; people love a fight.”

“They love a fight with a clear purpose,” the monk amended mildly.

“What’s next on my agenda for today?” Set asked the head eunuch.

The eunuch bowed, never missing a step. “The captain of the guard wished for you to, ah, inspect that prisoner he mentioned.”

“Right, right,” Set muttered. “Well, onward to the dungeons, then.”

Min’s mother stopped short. Min walked straight into her back, but the empress did not seem to notice. “The dungeons?” she repeated. “I know you don’t think to bring Minyi.”

Set looked back at her and blinked in surprise, as though he hadn’t realized she were there at all.

“Actually,” Brother said, stepping between them. “I’m heading back to my chamber now. It’s in the same direction as Empress Minyi’s apartments—perhaps I could escort her there?”

“Perfect,” Set said quickly, seemingly satisfied his burden had been relieved. Min’s mother’s full mouth shriveled into a hard line as she looked at Brother. Before she could speak, though, the monk was offering Min his arm. She took it.



But Brother didn’t escort her to her apartments, after all. Once they’d departed from her husband and mother, he’d guided her back to his chamber—a room in a small outbuilding off Set’s new apartments. Min shivered as they’d passed the front door leading to the bedroom in which her father had died.

“Just a moment, Princess.”

The darkness in the room was absolute; the windows had been papered over. Min closed her eyes, then opened them again, but saw no difference.

There was a scrape, a puff of sulfur, a flare. Brother’s face floated out from the void, wan and eerie. He smiled, the lines of his face cavernous and grotesquely exaggerated by the low light. He used the candle to light several more, illuminating the room.

Min blinked and found herself in a cramped study, not unlike that of a shin’s. Stacks of limp, musty books lined the walls. Some were faced toward her the wrong way around, and all she could make out were the yellowed edges of their pages. Others bore their spines at her, but only a few were labeled—in fine, hand-lettered text. Min squinted at the closest, but she did not recognize the language.

“I apologize for the subterfuge,” Brother said, lighting a fireplace against the far wall, then hanging a kettle over its crackling flame. He spoke lightly, as though she were a visitor dropping by for tea. “I mentioned to Set this morning that I wanted to begin your lessons. He and I both thought it best to shelter your mother.”

Lessons? Min hesitated. “Yes, I suppose that was wise,” she said softly.

“I’m afraid the empress does not fully trust me—or, rather, my abilities—yet,” the monk continued. “Such is often the case with laypeople.” He sighed, turning sorrowful eyes on her. “You will come to see this in time, I am afraid.”

“Oh,” Min said.

There was the sound of a scoff. Min recognized it with an odd twain of dread and excitement.

“He speaks of laypeople as though he’s any different,” the shamaness retorted. “As though he knows anything.”

It was almost a relief to hear from her. The spirit-creature seemed to keep her own time. Min had tried calling for her over the past few days, when she was bored or lonely—often enough—but the girl never emerged, never spoke. Where did she go? How much did she hear and see?

Brother pulled a ceramic tea jar from a high shelf and shook its contents—a mélange of herbs she did not recognize—into a gaiwan. Then, he removed the kettle from the fire and poured boiling water over the herbs.