"No one is angry that you continue to hold on to that," Hak said, referring to the hairpin that Yona clutched tightly, a defensive expression on her face. "You can do with it what you like."

Hak turned away from her unbearable expression so he could make one of his own—one of a wounded animal and anguished friend. He felt understanding, but unhappy because of that understanding. He could not take away her old love, and it pained him. He had no way to convey that his antics were more than jokes if she did not see it herself.

"Your dance was beautiful." He paused for an answer that never came. Unable to stand the atmosphere, he walked back to their tent.

Hak was not one to seek sleep in times of stress; he could barely stay still during the day and often slept on and off while on watch at night. In this case, Yona's dance had drained him. His heart was tired. Crawling into the tent, Hak prayed for sleep in the midst of this small village's celebration.

As he was drifting off, the peace was interrupted by his tent-mate, the exact person he was trying to avoid. Yona stepped inside and closed the noise of the celebration behind her. She didn't ask if he was awake, and Hak gave no indication that he was. Instead, she sat in her usual spot next to him, remaining quiet. It was such a silence that he had to open his eyes and see what on earth she was doing.

He had no idea how she'd concealed the fact that she was crying, but somehow her profuse tears were falling silently and reflecting the torchlight glowing through the canvas of the tent.

Normally, Hak would have been surprised, but in this case, he was too tired and too aware of her, so he gave up and did the only thing he knew he could do.

"Come here," he murmured, opening the blankets to reveal a warm spot next to him.

At first she hesitated, but only for a moment—because why else would they both be here, in this small, removed world, while everyone else was celebrating? They were mourning the face they had seen on the battlefield; not a friend, not an enemy, just a source of incredible pain and sorrow.

Yona slid into the space beside him and dried her tears on the front of his nightshirt, scooting much closer than Hak would have expected. She tucked one knee between his legs and her small hands gripped his shirtfront.

Yona was still crying, so Hak put a hand in her hair and drew out a curl, twirling it around his finger mindlessly.

"I'll never be able to forgive him," she whispered, "but I'll never be able to hate him."

Hak rested his chin on the top of her head and sighed. Her hair tickled his lips. "I don't hate him," he said. "I hate what he did. How he hurt you, how he tore our friendship apart. I can't forgive that."

"He hurt you too, Hak," she mumbled, sniffling. "Stop pretending that I'm the only one he betrayed."

Silence stretched between them and after a moment, Hak pulled Yona tightly into his arms. Her breath escaped her all at once—the space between them was less than a whisper. It took her a moment to realize that Hak's chest was trembling. Yona knew well enough not to say anything as he held her. There were no words to be had when two people shared sadness for the same reason. She didn't need to draw attention to Hak's tears.

Yona and Hak stood off to the side as Soo-Won rejoiced in the victory they had just secured. All pretense of their tentative alliance was slowly dwindling.

Hak noticed Yona, as he always did, grow steadily rigid beside him, her eyes on Soo-Won as he laughed with Lena. It gave Hak the urge to put his fingers in her hair and kiss her in such a manner that would take away the hardness from her mouth and remove her from the world, if only for a second. Mixed emotions pulsed through him—he could never have been more proud of her strength, a quality that filled him with the utmost respect—but he felt selfish, wishing that she'd retained some of her softness by staying with the Wind Tribe almost a year ago. Yona was no longer the naïve little girl he once knew, pampered and locked away like a doll in a glass cupboard. She was a compassionate woman, fearless and full of love. It terrified him; watching her grow stronger made his feelings for her harder to control.

Soo-Won laughed loudly, drawing attention to himself. "Yes, Yona and I are the best of friends!"

The words were unexpected, but Yona's reaction could have mirrored lightning. Her hand went to the inside of her cloak, and Hak's eyes almost missed the throw, focused too much on her eyes, which were completely on fire. Hak couldn't have dreamed of stopping her.

The hairpin was out of her fingers in seconds and the following happened all at once: the sound of shattering crystal echoed in the air as the hairpin embedded itself into a crack in the brick several feet away. Soo-Won cried out and reached for his cheek, smile gone, blood seeping through his fingers. He and Yona shared an intense gaze after he realized what had happened, his eyes wide and brows furrowed, hers almost sad, an icy threat behind their pity.

"We will never be friends," she breathed. "I do not forgive you."

Blood ran down Soo-Won's chin and dripped onto his white robe. Lena gave a shriek and was at the King's side in a moment, distraught and confused by the sudden hostility. Hak could barely believe what he saw, completely stunned. He'd watched Yona covet that hairpin, yet in one moment she had let it fly with such certainty that it'd left a scar on the face of her old love.

Yona turned her heel on Soo-Won and Hak followed suit, sending a glare of his own to reinforce Yona's message. It felt resigning to walk away from the King—Hak's anger wasn't resolved, but the hairpin loosed from Yona's hand gave him a peace of mind that he hadn't felt in a long while.