Despite his outward calm, Yi Hyun was not fully convinced by their hastily devised plan. A gisaeng would stumble, and they would disarm the assassin? It was na?ve and straightforward — and somehow it worked.

  Judging by the bewildered expression on his pursuer’s face, he hadn’t expected such a childish trap either.

  Yi Hyun, however, remembered how the man had single-handedly dispatched three other bandits and was pleasantly surprised that this time there had been no bloodshed. The Wangwisa commander was holding the assassin at swordpoint, one of the young nobles who had only been told the broadest details was tying the man’s hands behind his back with a rope, and a young gisaeng, eyes wide with nervousness, clutched the assassin’s sword to her chest.

  The merchants, unaware of the specifics, sat quietly and let justice take its course. Everything was going smoothly, almost too smoothly.

  “Do you admit you tried to kill me?” Yi Hyun stepped forward as soon as the assassin was securely bound.

  “I admit I failed to kill you,” the man said, the left corner of his mouth lifting as if he were mocking himself.

  “Who ordered you to do it?” the prince demanded. It irritated him that the assassin, though older, still addressed him informally. Since he knew who he was speaking to, he ought to show more respect — like every other subject present here.

  “What makes you think I’ll answer?” the man went on mocking him. Yi Hyun pressed his lips together.

  “Because you didn’t run when you had the chance,” he replied. His tutors had often praised his perceptiveness; he hoped it would help him now. “What’s keeping you here?”

  Now the assassin furrowed his brows and looked past him, as though actually considering the question.

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  “High treason,” he said at last — and it sounded less like a confession of what he had already done than a warning about what was coming.

  “Besides the one you’ve already committed?” the prince clarified.

  “I want to talk,” the assassin finally said. “In private. Let her read her book as she intended, so no one listens in.”

  “Isn’t that a bit bold?” Wangwisa commander scoffed, tapping the assassin’s bare throat lightly with the sword tip for emphasis.

  “I’ve already not killed you twice,” the man reminded him, still looking only at the prince. “And I’m not asking to be untied. Not everything I can say is meant for other ears.”

  Yi Hyun hesitated, studying him. He wouldn’t be asking for a third opportunity unless he had a plan. But bound and disarmed, what could he possibly do now?

  “Search him thoroughly,” Yi Hyun ordered.

  The assassin grimaced.

  Commander Yeong San slowly sheathed his sword and began searching him. A dagger, a throwing knife, three strings of coins, a length of black silk suitable for covering the face… The assassin only twitched when an old, worn wooden tag with a grey, time-faded tassel was pulled from his sleeve. Yi Hyun gestured for it, inspected it — but it looked more like a child’s keepsake than any official document. Nothing important, though the assassin’s narrowed eyes suggested otherwise.

  “If you are good during our talk, I’ll return it,” the prince promised, tucking the tag inside his own robe. Other people’s nostalgia could take many forms. So long as it wasn’t dangerous, he was fine using it.

  “So I merit an audience?” the assassin arched a brow, acknowledging the prince’s authority for perhaps the first time, even if in jest.

  “Yes,” Yi Hyun nodded with importance, bending to pick up the dagger taken from the assassin. “If I don’t return before the reading ends, you may come in.”

  Commander Yeong San escorted them to an unused room on the second floor and pulled the doors shut. The prince personally unrolled a mattress from the corner and sat on it, leaving his prisoner the cold wooden floor. The man lowered himself carefully — the ropes clearly hindered him — crossed his legs and fell silent.

  “So? What did you intend to tell me?” Yi Hyun urged. Had Yeong San come with a full guard detachment, he would not be wasting time and would hand the assassin over to the executioners at once. But now they were few, the situation unclear, and the prince was willing to take unusual steps. Besides, his curiosity was pricked. “Why did you say you failed to kill me? Were you interrupted?”

  “Do you remember what happened after you were taken to Qing?” the assassin asked instead of answering. His gaze darkened, he was looking somewhere beyond the prince.