Chapter 16

The days following the banquet had changed the air in the maidens' court.

Where once there had been forced pleasantries and passive rivalry, now there was ice in every glance. Whispers trailed after Yeonhwa like shadows, curling around corners and vanishing when she turned her head. Though no one spoke openly of what had happened in the King's private quarters, everyone knew.

Lady Bomi had returned flushed and radiant the next morning, clearly summoned discreetly and clearly eager to fan the flames of jealousy. But the true blaze had kindled in someone else entirely.

Lady Sunae.

If envy could burn a hole through silk, Yeonhwa's sleeping robe would've been ash by now.

"You look tired, Yeonhwa," Sunae said sweetly one morning as they prepared for their embroidery lessons. "Did His Majesty keep you up all night again?"

Yeonhwa didn't answer. She'd learned silence was her sharpest weapon.

"Oh dear, did I touch a nerve?" Sunae leaned closer, lips curling. "Or are you simply too proud to admit that your time with the King is over and done? A one-night bloom…easily wilted."

Mira, nearby, dropped her needle and looked up sharply. "That's enough, Sunae."

"Oh, how noble," Sunae purred. "The handmaiden rises to defend her mistress."

"I'm no one's handmaiden," Mira snapped. "But I've noticed something…you weren't this bitter when Bomi was summoned. Why is it only Yeonhwa that draws your fire?"

Sunae's face twitched.

"I think we all know why," another maiden, Jiwoo, murmured. She wasn't loyal to anyone—but she knew a storm when she saw one brewing. "She was chosen first. That stings, doesn't it?"

Sunae stood abruptly. "Mind your tongue, Jiwoo. You weren't chosen at all."

Laughter rippled through the court, thin and nervous. Jiwoo paled.

But Yeonhwa didn't laugh. She was watching Sunae. She had learned to study people before they struck.

And Sunae was close to striking.

Mistress Yeo then entered the court, and all talk ceased. She clapped her hands sharply. "Enough idle chatter. You will report to the royal chamberlain at midmorning. The palace intends to resume etiquette drills and dance rehearsals."

"Even Yeonhwa?" someone muttered under their breath.

"Yes, even Yeonhwa," Mistress Yeo said curtly. "No maiden is exempt from royal service…no matter how favoured."

That afternoon, under the sharp eye of the palace instructor, they practiced court bows until their spines ached.

Yeonhwa stumbled once. Just once.

"Oh dear," Sunae said softly. "Did His Majesty exhaust you that much?"

The instructor didn't hear. But the others did…and laughter erupted again.

Yeonhwa said nothing. But when their eyes met, her calm silence said everything.

That night, it was raining.

Yeonhwa sat by the window in the maidens' quarters, brushing out her long hair and watching the downpour soak the moonlit gardens. The storm outside felt less violent than the one inside these walls.

Mira sat beside her. "You shouldn't let her get to you."

"She wants me to react. If I do, I give her what she wants."

"You think silence protects you?"

"I think silence reminds them I have nothing to prove."

Mira sighed. "Then I hope your silence is armor enough, because she's planning something."

Yeonhwa turned her head. "How do you know?"

"She cornered Jiwoo in the bathhouse. Said she'd make sure you were put back in your place."

Yeonhwa's jaw clenched.

The next morning, a curious thing happened.

Someone had replaced Yeonhwa's ceremonial robe with one meant for laundry…rough, gray, and far too small. When she emerged in it, laughter echoed through the chamber. Even Mistress Yeo blinked in surprise.

"Who did this?" she demanded.

No one answered.

But Sunae looked particularly smug.

"I'll find out," the Mistress snapped. "And if this is sabotage, you'll be stripped of all privileges!"

But by then, the damage was done.

Whispers followed Yeonhwa as they were led to the courtyard for calligraphy practice. Every wrong stroke she made was met with a snicker. Every silence she held deepened the tension.

Mira approached her quietly. "Say something to her. Anything. Make her back down."

"She won't stop," Yeonhwa replied. "Not until she's been humbled."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

Yeonhwa didn't answer. Not yet.

That evening, as the maidens prepared for dinner, Sunae walked past Yeonhwa and 'accidentally' spilled a tray of scented oils onto her lap.

"Oh no," Sunae gasped, mockingly. "What a shame. I hope His Majesty won't mind you smelling like spiced vinegar."

Yeonhwa stood still, face unreadable, as oil soaked her robes.

But she didn't move.

Didn't flinch.

She looked Sunae dead in the eye and smiled…slow and calculated.

"Careful, Lady Sunae. The King has a very discerning nose."

Sunae's expression faltered. Just slightly.

But it was enough.

Later that night, as the candles flickered low and the maidens prepared for rest, a palace servant arrived discreetly. A slip of parchment was handed to Mistress Yeo. She read it silently, then looked up.

"Lady Sunae."

Sunae rose, eyes wide.

"You are to be presented at the King's private quarters within the hour."

The silence was thunderous.

Yeonhwa's face gave away nothing…but Mira saw her fingers tighten around her sash.

Sunae tried to contain her smirk. "Of course. I shall prepare."

She turned…just slightly too triumphant, just slightly too smug.

Yeonhwa watched her go, the shadow of something unreadable crossing her face.

She knew what this meant.

The King was testing the rest of them.

And Sunae would never miss a chance to outdo her.

But she also knew something else.

Favor was a dangerous thing in the palace.

And the higher Sunae rose, the harder she'd fall.