Chapter 65
Something small dropped onto the bed with a thud.
When Arghana saw what had fallen on the soft blanket, her eyes widened, trembling faintly as if an earthquake had struck.
It was a small jade pendant hanging from a worn, frayed leather string.
Arghana’s gaze froze on the intricately carved tiger before she quickly looked up at Yetekherid.
“You’ve had this all this time….”
“I’ve never taken it off.”
Arghana pressed her hand against her throat, which suddenly felt tight.
Yetekherid too looked down at the necklace his younger sister had once given him long ago. His expression was complicated.
Turning his head to hide his reddened eyes, he spoke.
“If I must, I will kill you. But remember this—there has never been a time when you weren’t my little sister.”
“Brother….”
“Now, go back. And never come to Heehyo Palace again.”
Arghana looked back and forth between the necklace and Yetekherid’s face, then turned away abruptly, like someone angry.
The moment she opened the door, Yetekherid squeezed his eyes shut.
“Brother.”
“……”
“Thank you… for being honest. And that necklace—wear it again. As long as you have it on, no one will dare treat you carelessly.”
“……”
“…And go outside once in a while. Come have tea with me. How many years do you plan on keeping me waiting?”
Muttering bluntly without looking back, Arghana shut the door with a loud clack.
Watching her fading shadow shimmer beyond the thin paper screen, Yetekherid reached once more for the broken necklace.
As he fiddled with the jade pendant, now warm with his body heat, tears welled up on their own.
In that dark childhood of his—when he had to recognize his own existence through nothing but hatred and abuse—the only thing that had protected him was this small jade token.
Little King Tagur sat before the thick hanging screen, his expression strangely tense.
There was someone on the other side of the screen. Only a dim silhouette was visible, not the face. But the little king knew very well who it was.
“The princess has been digging into the poisoning case?”
At the woman’s voice from beyond the screen, the little king lowered his head.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Really… She meddles in every little matter. I cannot fathom why His Majesty the Khan still allows her to remain in the palace.”
It must be because he intends to make her his successor, the little king thought.
Though not especially close to Khan Astrahan, as a member of the royal house himself he could sense the Khan’s intentions better than most.
Whenever others scoffed, saying “Surely he wouldn’t let a woman inherit the throne—impossible,” the little king only sneered inwardly.
But he could never speak such things in front of this woman. Without her, he would be nothing—thrown into the streets as a beggar.
All his money, his house, every luxury he possessed came from her. The inheritance he had once received had been squandered in his youth.
For now, it’s important to appease her. But this must be stopped, one way or another.
Swallowing hard, the little king spoke carefully.
“If this continues, it will harm both His Highness and Your Highness as well. Please, let it end here.”
A long sigh came from beyond the screen.
The sound made the little king’s neck prickle as though he were being scolded for incompetence.
“…I had hoped to use this chance to wipe out the bloodline of that lowly northern woman completely. I thought she would be frail like her mother, but I didn’t expect her to cling on so stubbornly. It was my miscalculation.”
“Please don’t say such things. You have done nothing wrong, Your Highness. It is I who should be ashamed.”
Something snapped with a sharp crack.
Forcing himself to remain calm, the little king said evenly:
“Wait for the next opportunity, Your Highness.”
The screen shifted slightly, betraying the person’s anger.
“Next opportunity? When the eyesores right before us haven’t even been removed? Little King, do you truly think that makes sense?”
“But isn’t the western problem still unresolved?”
Crack! came the sound again.
Deliberate, shallow breaths followed, then quieted. The screen ceased its trembling.
“…Yes. Lady Turegen must be longing dearly for her son.”
“Indeed.”
“Perhaps this is the perfect chance for mother and child to return to their homeland together. Peacefully, of course… so to speak.”
A meaningful smile spread over the little king’s face.
The person beyond the screen spoke no further. But that silence was itself the clearest order of all.
Arghana, upon hearing that Lady Huiju was asking for her, immediately made her way to Hachoyoung (a residence arranged for imperial guests).
“Sister!”
Bogatena, waiting outside, rushed up and hugged Arghana tightly.
Arghana gently patted her younger sister’s shoulder and asked:
“Mother?”
“She’s inside—go on in.”
“Thank you, Tena.”
“Don’t mention it. I’d do anything for you, Sister.”
Hearing Bogatena’s spirited reply, Arghana felt a flicker of warmth. She soon stepped inside Hachoyoung.
As Bogatena lingered outside, wondering whether to stroll in the sunlight or venture beyond the palace, her elder sister, Borsiya, appeared.
“Why are you pacing like that? It’s unsightly.”
Borsiya wrinkled her nose in disapproval, but Bogatena paid her no mind.
Her sister always complained about things being “unsightly”—by now, Bogatena was used to it.
“I saw Her Highness the Princess go inside just now. What’s going on?”
Bogotena recalled her mother’s warning: “Tell no one.” So she answered coldly:
“How should I know? She must be visiting Mother.”
But Borsiya was not so easily brushed aside.
She had a habit of always prying, and she already knew their mother had been speaking secretly with Bogatena of late.
If anyone else were excluded, fine—but Borsiya could not bear being left out. When Bogatena tried to walk away, Borsiya seized her shoulder.
“What are you doing? Let go!”
“You and Mother are plotting something together, aren’t you? Why are you leaving me out?”
Bogatena roughly shook off her sister’s hand.
“Plotting? That’s a fine way to talk to me.”
“But it’s true!”
“True or not, what’s it to you? I’ve nothing to say to you. If you’re so curious, why don’t you go in and ask her yourself?”
She turned again, but this time Borsiya grabbed her even harder.
Bogatena staggered—and then came a slap! Her face whipped to the side. Borsiya had struck her across the cheek.
Even after hitting her sister, Borsiya only glared coldly, showing no hint of surprise.
Bogotena rubbed her stinging cheek, then spat bloody saliva at her sister’s feet.
“You!”
“This is why neither Mother nor I can trust you. If you don’t like it, go back to your own house. Why are you still here?”
With that, Bogatena finally left, ignoring her fuming sister.
Borsiya stamped her foot in rage, but Bogatena did not return.
Meanwhile, as Arghana sipped tea with Lady Huiju, she heard the sharp sound of a slap outside.
What was that?
Hearing Bogatena’s voice immediately after, she guessed that Borsiya had picked another fight.
But Lady Huiju, whose hearing was not so sharp, noticed nothing.
Holding her teacup with a worried look, Lady Huiju said:
“It seems there are some troubles with the western construction project.”
