Something's off

After leaving the dining hall, Yettiri decides to take a stroll before retiring to her room.

"Your Highness, are you planning to train tonight?" Arya asks, noticing they are heading towards the training ground.

Yettiri snaps out of her daze and looks ahead, realizing they are indeed walking in that direction. Her mind, preoccupied with what had just happened must have instinctively led her to the place where she can find solace.

"Since we are already here, let's go," she answers.

As they near the training ground, the swishing sound of something lashing against the wind reaches their ears. Upon arrival, Yettiri crosses her arms over her chest, spotting the reason for the ruined dinner, blissfully ignorant of the trouble he's caused.

"Ignorance is bliss indeed," she remarks.

Sersi swerves his spear to the side as he lands on the ground. He turns around, surprised to see Yettiri standing behind him. He had assumed she wouldn't return to the training ground at night, considering she had been training all day.

"Has Your Highness come to train again?" Sersi asks, noticing she is wearing a dress rather than a training suit.

Ignoring his question, Yettiri unsheathes a sword from the weapon rack and begins circling him, letting the blade scratch the ground. "Sometimes I wonder if you are clueless, stupid, or both," she says, her voice menacing.

His eyes follow her. "Did I do something to upset Your Highness?" Sersi asks, sensing the resentment in her voice.

Without answering, she springs into action, launching herself into the air to deliver an overhead strike. As her sword descends, he swiftly blocks it with his spear.

"Indeed, I must have done something to upset you," Sersi says with a nervous grin. Yettiri raises an eyebrow at his grin, interpreting it as mocking, and her anger boils over.

She starts attacking aggressively while he blocks her strikes with much effort. Worried she might exhaust herself, he parries her sword with his spear and grabs the grip with his other hand. He then advances, forcing her to step back until her back hits one of the pillars around the training ground.

"Sersi!" she yells, annoyed by the bind and their proximity, as he presses the sword hilt against her chest.

His lips curve into a lopsided smile, his hot breath brushing against her face. "Why don't you state your grievance now, Your Highness?"

"Fool." She hits the sword hilt, pushes it away, and catches him off guard by kicking his knee. As he stumbles back, she delivers a roundhouse kick to his face and swiftly aims her sword at his neck while he is down.

Sersi wipes the blood from his bruised lips with his thumb. "Nice move," he commends her, despite the pain stinging his cheek.

"Did you tell Father about Yetsune skipping training?" Yettiri demands.

"His Majesty asked me about her performance today. Would you have preferred I lie?" His clueless tone leaves Yettiri questioning whether he is pretending not to know or is simply dense.

"Do you need me to spell it out?" she asks, astounded by his foolishness. "I took it upon myself to bring Yetsune to the dinner table, but you ruined it with your loose tongue."

Sersi rises slowly, her sword still aimed at his neck. "I apologize if my actions caused any trouble, Your Highness. It was not my intention," he says remorsefully.

Yettiri feels a pang of guilt, especially when he rubs his cheek where she had kicked him. She lowers her sword. "I shouldn't have struck you so hard," she admits in a murmur, stepping away to return the sword to its sheath and place it back on the weapon rack.

With her back still turned to him, she says, "I know your loyalty lies with Father, but sometimes you should learn to tell petty lies." Then, to Arya who is waiting below, she says, "Let's go."

But Sersi calls after her, "Your Highness!" Yettiri halts and turns her head slightly, though not enough to see him.

"My loyalty belongs to you too," he declares.

Yettiri parts her lips to speak but closes them again, walking away with an inward smile. "What a total fool," she whispers to herself.

"Did Your Highness say something?" Arya asks.

Yettiri clears her throat. "No," she answers and starts walking even faster.

Meanwhile, Yetsune bursts into her bedchamber, urging Erya to shut the doors. Her chest heaves with anger as she sinks onto her bed, flicking her wide sleeve.

"Lousy old man," she curses, punching the mattress.

"You can't say that, Your Highness. The guards His Majesty sent to watch you are outside," Erya cautions her, but Yetsune rolls her eyes in response.

"We're departing tonight. Where are the things?"

Erya opens a chest in the corner of the room and takes out a cloth bag. "Everything is ready," she responds, patting the bag.

Yetsune changes out of her fine silk dress into peasant hemp clothes, inner trousers, a knee-length gown cross-knotted at the breast, and a tacky, narrow-sleeved overcoat with a sash around her waist. She removes the accessories from her hair, tying it into a messy ponytail and securing it with a ribbon. She completes the look with brown leather shoes, lacing them around her calves.

As she ties the laces, Erya breaks into a peal of laughter, her hands covering her mouth to stifle the sound. She has never seen Yetsune in such unflattering clothes.

Yetsune raises an offended brow at her, prompting Erya to cease her laughter immediately. Then, Yetsune goes to sit at her study desk, brush in hand, and begins copying the Analects on virtue and obedience as her father had ordered.

"The blade?" she demands upon reaching the final line of the third page of the Analects.

"Do you really have to go this far?" Erya hesitates. "Why don't you use my blood instead?"

"Now," Yetsune insists.

Reluctantly, Erya hands her a curved blade. Yetsune draws it from its sheath and grips it tightly. She takes three deep breaths before slowly slicing her palm. Blood begins to drip from the wound, staining the paper and spreading over the black ink.

Erya quickly kneels beside her, wrapping a cotton bandage around the wound with concern etched on her face. "I still don't understand why you have to go this far."

"…Even I don't understand," Yetsune answers in a melancholic voice.

After securing the bandage, Erya tears off a piece of Yetsune's discarded dress. She packs the remaining clothes into the cloth bag and slings it over her shoulder.

"It's time to leave."

Yetsune nods in agreement. Erya jumps out of the window first, then catches Yetsune as she follows.

"Is Your Highness alright?" Erya asks.

Yetsune responds with a reassuring nod, gripping Erya's hand as they escape the palace together.

****

In the East Palace, Yettiri sits at her dresser after changing into her nightgown while Arya combs her long dark hair.

Arya asks, "Does Your Highness believe what Erya said about the map?"

Yettiri meets Arya's gaze in the mirror. "What do you mean?"

"I know Erya well. She seemed off when she mentioned it," Arya explains. Yettiri raises her hand, gesturing for Arya to pause her combing.

"Is that all?" Yettiri asks. Arya nods silently. Yettiri rises from the dresser, preparing to retire to bed.

"Yetsune always confides in me or Lord Azryn when she's troubled. She wouldn't keep either of us in the dark," she asserts, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she settles onto the bed.

"But—"

"Speak no more of this." Yettiri reclines against her pillow. "Tonight's events have left me with a pounding headache. I'd rather not entertain the notion that my sister might be hiding something from me," she murmurs, closing her eyes and resting her hands on her stomach.

Despite the urge to persist, Arya draws the black drapes closed around the bed. She bows her head and exits the room, unsatisfied with Yettiri's dismissive response.