The doors shut behind them with a heavy, final thud, like stone sealing a tomb. Rue Yim felt the sound reverberate inside her ribs long after silence fell.
For a moment, no one moved.
Not Hong Gwi.
Not Wang Si.
Not even the priestess, who merely folded her hands serenely in front of her.
Rue Yim exhaled slowly. Her lungs felt tight, as if the king's last trembling words still clung to the air around her.
Wang Si was the first to speak.
"Rue Yim," he said, voice low, controlled—too controlled. "You should not have asked that."
She didn't look at him. "I needed answers."
"And what did you learn?" he demanded. "Nonsense. Madness. His Majesty cannot recognize his own ministers most days, and you think he can tell you truths about witches and goddesses?"
"It didn't sound like nonsense to me."
Wang Si's jaw tightened. "That is what concerns me."
Rue Yim turned away from him and faced the priestess instead.
"You," she said. "You knew I would come. Why?"
