A meticulously devised plan

Lord Azryn sits in his study, his jaw resting against the back of his hand, eyes closed in deep contemplation. He taps the desk rhythmically with his fan.

Almost two weeks have passed since Yetsune vanished with Erya. The only clue to their disappearance is a trail of footprints beneath the window, leading towards the desolate forest looming behind the palace.

"Something eludes me… What could it be?" he ponders aloud. Since that first day, a persistent feeling has nagged at him, an inkling that he's missed something of utmost importance.

"My Lord," his aide, Loki, interrupts his thoughts.

Lord Azryn lowers his hand. "How is Yettiri?" he asks.

"She remains confined in the East Palace but refuses to stop practicing archery," Loki replies. Lord Azryn sighs in response.

Despite the recent days of rain, Yettiri had refused to return to the palace. In the end, Lord Azryn had to drag her back and confine her to the East Palace after receiving word of her illness from Sersi.

As his mind drifts back to his earlier thoughts, a sudden realization strikes him like lightning. "The map!" Lord Azryn exclaims, jolting up with wide eyes. Before Loki can ask what's wrong, he has already bolted from the room.

Lord Azryn rushes into the West Palace, ignoring the guards' greetings as he storms into Yetsune's courtyard. He rummages through every drawer, chest, and cabinet in the rooms and study while Loki watches in bewilderment.

The head maid enters to find him ransacking the study. "What do you seek, my Lord?" she asks.

"The map." Lord Azryn turns to face her. "Did you find a map in the bedroom or study?"

The head maid shakes her head. "I'm afraid not, my Lord. We have searched repeatedly, but no map has been found."

"Is anything else missing?" he presses.

The head maid hesitates before answering, "The green jade hairpin you gifted the princesses is missing."

Lord Azryn exhales deeply, composing himself. He dismisses the head maid with a wave. It all makes sense now, the reason for Yetsune's curiosity about Aushasal and the Emperor's tour.

"Ha, ha…" he bursts into maniacal laughter, one hand on his belly.

The laughter startles those outside, leaving them wondering if he has finally gone mad from losing his precious niece. Even Loki begins to worry for his master's sanity. Lord Azryn claps his hands together, his laughter abruptly ceasing.

His face turns grave as he addresses Loki. "Find out how many times Erya's left the palace in the past three months and every purchase she's made." 

"Why are you suddenly looking into that, My Lord?" Loki inquires.

"I suspect we have all been played by my niece. Report back to me as soon as you find out," he responds, tapping his fan against his palm. Loki bows and departs to complete the task.

Lord Azryn's gaze sweeps across the room, still grappling with this situation. She took no clothing or accessories, save for the green jade hairpin he gifted the sisters. The bloodstains and torn cloth were likely planted to suggest a third party was here. A clever ruse, he acknowledges silently. Perhaps he shouldn't have nurtured her mischievous nature from childhood.

His brow furrows suddenly. "She… she didn't actually hurt herself, did she?" Lord Azryn glances at the spot where he found the blood droplets.

Only now does he realize the extent of her desire to escape the palace walls, that she might even harm herself. He turns to leave, intending to inform the King, but halts at the threshold. If Yetsune went so far as to wound herself, exposing her now would only cause her to resent him. 

In the East Palace, Sersi seeks an audience with Yettiri, only to be continually denied entry by the guards. Yettiri's threat to kill anyone who allows Sersi into the East Palace leaves none daring to disobey her order.

Hope flickers in Sersi's eyes when he spots Arya approaching. "Is she willing to see me now?" he asks as she reaches the gate. Arya shakes her head, extinguishing that spark of hope.

"Perhaps it's best if you return for now. I'll summon you once she's ready," she advises, concern etched on her face. She knows Sersi has been working tirelessly to find Yetsune.

Sersi's shoulders slump in dejection. The memory of Yettiri's betrayed expression before Lord Azryn whisked her away still haunts him. He believed he was acting in her best interest, trying to stop her relentless day-and-night search for Yetsune.

"She just needs someone to bear the brunt of her frustration over the second princess's disappearance. It won't be long until she realizes that," Arya offers words of solace. It hurts her to see him so desperate to gain Yettiri's presence.

Sersi nods. "Take care of her," he says then turns to leave. Arya sighs, watching him walk away then she returns inside.

The sound of a twanging bowstring fills the air as another arrow finds its mark on the crowded target. Yettiri reaches for another arrow. 

"Has he left?" she asks, sensing Arya's approach as she draws the bowstring.

"Yes. He shouldn't return anytime soon," Arya replies, eyeing the crowded target with concern.

Yettiri pulls the arrow further back, poised to release, when Arya suddenly grasps the bow. "Enough, Your Highness," she implores. 

"Let go," Yettiri orders, her usually commanding voice now frail.

"I can't let you continue!" Arya insists, determination blazing in her eyes.

"I said let go! This is an ord—" Yettiri's outburst dissolves into a fit of coughing.

Arya looks at her with worry. Yettiri's face is ashen, life drained from her eyes, her lips pale and cracked. Her usually slim figure has become alarmingly gaunt.

"Look at the target." Arya points at the target. "How many arrows missed the bullseye? When have you ever missed?" Her tone softens. 

Yettiri yanks the bowstring taut, forcing Arya to release her grip. She looses the arrow, but it hits the ground, far short of its mark. Yet, she reaches for another, drawing the bowstring once more.

Arya's fists clench, resentment burning in her gaze. She blames Yetsune for everything. A part of her wishes the Second Princess would never return.

"This is all her fault." Arya's fist tightens. "She just has to make everyone miserable and endanger Erya again." Her eyes widen as she realizes she's spoken aloud.

Yettiri's gaze shifts from the target to Arya. The deadly glare emanating from their depths sends a chill down Arya'sspine. She retreats a step as Yettiri redirects her arrow, its point now aimed at Arya's chest.

"Your H-highness…" Arya stutters.

"I have overlooked your disrespect in the past," Yettiri's low voice is as menacing as ever. "How dare you speak of your Princess with such contempt!" Her words lash out with a fury Arya has never before witnessed.

Arya's clenched fists tremble, her wide eyes fixed on the arrowhead. "Your Highness…" she whispers, retreating another step. Tears well in her eyes, fear gripping her heart at the possibility that Yettiri might loose the arrow.

After a tense moment that seems to stretch into eternity, Yettiri relaxes the bowstring. "From this moment forward, you will accord her even greater respect than you show me. Is that clear?"

Arya sinks to her knees, bowing her head low. "Yes, Your Highness," she responds, her voice quavering.

Yettiri withdraws the bow, throwing it to the ground. Then she walks away without sparing Arya another glance. Arya's tears fall silently to the ground, her fingers digging into the earth.