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I woke up in Syaoran’s arms, held close to him. The feel of his shirt against my face had me confused. It wasn’t until he wished me good morning with a gentle coo in his voice that I realized. Startled, I pushed away and sat up.
He laughed. “You were shivering in your sleep.”
I fumbled with my words, stuttering an incoherent babble. Pausing with a quirked brow as I saw Feng cuddled up against his back.
“I have a warmer body heat.” He spoke so matter-of-fact that it caused me to ponder. “Nothing happened, I promise.”
“Do you mind?” moaned Feng, yawning wide. She pulled Syaoran closer to her, with her tail lain over his legs to steal more warmth. “It’s too early.”
He gestured a thumb at her. A clue to how comfortable the situation was, innocently made. Still, I couldn’t help but remember what Raeden said. Had I been touched in that way, he asked. I felt a discomfort, shifting where I sat.
“What’s wrong?” asked Syaoran.
I shook my head. “I’ve just... never woken up in someone’s arms. It feels strange. Even if we didn’t...” I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, failing to stop my cheeks from heating up. “If we didn’t touch.”
He chuckled. “You don’t have a sweetheart at home that you’ve snuck over to?”
I felt my face flare and form a scowl. “No! That’s not—we don’t do that!”
“So much yelling,” complained Feng, sitting up to stretch.
“Really? Never?” asked Syaoran. “You can be honest. I’ve had the occasional girl sneak over to me. Then again, you’re still just... how old are you?”
“S-sixteen.” I stared at him, at how casually he confessed such a thing.
He turned to Feng. “What does that mean in human years?”
She shrugged. “I’d heard they marry off the girls at fourteen. So, I can’t imagine she’s still too much of a child at all.”
“Fourteen‽” I gaped.
They looked at me with my jaw wide open.
“In the noble houses, yes,” said Feng. “That’s what I’ve heard, at least.”
“That’s far too young,” I said, louder than I intended. “I’m not of age yet.”
“Really?” said Syaoran. “I know humans often don’t make it past eighty. Fourteen or fifteen seems like a reasonable age to get married at that rate.”
I shook my head. “It’s not.”
“In any case, you can’t be too far away from that age. And sometimes young men and women simply can’t wait, or they get curious.”
I knew he was teasing me now, but I shot up onto my feet in a huff. “I’m going to look for some breakfast.”
“I think I’ll come with you,” said Feng, newly uncomfortable.
Syaoran smirked at her then. “You mean to say that in the last century you never once tried to go to Lord Kwan somewhere in the night?”
“Absolutely not!” Feng glared at him. “That will wait until our wedding night. My sisters will be jealous. They lay with their beloved and still haven’t gotten a proposal.”
“And in other parts of the world, proposals do happen after laying together. It’s entirely possible. Several girls starting as servants are now the ladies of the house. Sometimes it seals the love.”
“Not a chance,” said Feng, ignoring any semblance of evidence Syaoran might present.
****
We discovered an apricot tree, its fruit just ripe, and walked to enjoy our collection at the edge of the sunlight and the forest. More conversation, pleasant conversation, took place as we savored the sweet find.
“You’ve never been to the top of the mountain?” asked Syaoran in disbelief.
“We’re usually too busy to even get as far as the upper river,” I explained. “Why? What’s there?”
“The top of the mountain is a crater, and water pools in there to form a giant lake,” said Syaoran. “Lord Kwan and I liked to race up to there on horseback. I won twice.”
“Typical,” said Feng. “Of course, my fiancée would be the better horseman.”
“Have you been to the lake, Feng?” I asked.
“It’s where we fell in love.”
“You mean, where you fell in love,” teased Syaoran. “And I don’t recall that being the story.”
“This is why no one will want to marry you, fox,” snapped Feng.
“Speaking of which,” he pulled a gourd from his belt, bearing a catty grin. “Rice wine.”
Feng stuck out her tongue.
“You don’t like it?”
“The very smell makes me sick.”
“And that’s why you’ll never get married. It’s a staple of every wedding.”
She grimaced.
“What about you, Hisa?”
“I’ve never had it,” I said. “The last wedding that happened, I was still too young.”
“Don’t bother,” said Feng. “It’s a vile thing, wine. Too much of it makes men into beasts and ladies into fish ripe for the catch.”
I didn’t understand a word of that, though I knew it couldn’t be literal. At least, not with humans.
Syaoran laughed. “Lord Kwan likes pomegranate wine. What are you going to do if you’ve married and he drinks it?”
She crossed her arms, turning her head away. “I will refrain from kissing him. At least until the smell is off his breath.”
“And if he drinks it regularly? You might not kiss him for a very long time. Much less anything more.” He put on another fox-like grin. When she looked about to argue, he cut her off. “That’s okay. If you get so lonely and need some to kiss, I supposed I can fill in for him.”
“I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last Juneun in the world. I’d rather kiss a human before you,” said Feng, sharp, and stuck out her tongue at him.
“That’s harsh,” said Syaoran, smiling bright and carrying a laugh in his voice as he reclined on the grass. “What about Hisa? Would you kiss me if I was the last Juneun in the world?”
“I,” my mouth went suddenly dry. I did like Syaoran. I liked that he was kind and always smiling, but I never thought I’d even be considered for a kiss from someone like him. “Um. I just, I think—”
“You have kissed someone before, haven’t you?”
“Of course I have.” I hadn’t. But I didn’t want him to know that. I didn’t want to seem so very unwanted.
“See? Even a human wouldn’t kiss you,” said Feng, an air of superiority in her tone. “I’m starting to doubt there was ever one girl sneaking over to sleep with you.”
Syaoran pretended to be wounded, struck in the heart, dramatic. “Am I so ugly?”
“N-no, you’re not,” I said, realizing the implication afterwards. “But I—I only want to kiss someone I’m in love with.” It was partially true. I often daydreamed about being so in love with someone that I was the only person they’d ever or would ever kiss. Though, it’d be a lie to say I’d deny someone like Syaoran a kiss if they liked me in return and asked to. I just didn’t want a kiss, my first kiss, to be meaningless.
“See? Like that,” said Syaoran, looking right at Feng. “You can say no without being nasty about it.”
She scoffed. “I would, if you were good for more than being a warm pillow.”
“Be sure to remember that on those cold and lonely nights in the house,” teased Syaoran. “I’ll be waiting.”
“You’re disgusting.”
I felt like an outsider. The two had centuries of knowing each other; how to act friendly and annoy each other without overstepping. It looked that way. To me, they seemed already an old married couple playing to get a rise out of the other.
We learned dancing that day. Two different dances.
One for a group with a collective effort for coordination—to which Syaoran created illusions of himself and me to act as other couples in the dance. I couldn’t help but get distracted, watching our copies dancing, moving with grace. He’d given the illusions fine clothing, and I squinted at my own, wondering if I really did look so put together or if it was a generous overstatement.
It took the better part of the day, stopping to look for something to eat for lunch and continuing on a short while after.
The other dance was a more intimate one, meant for having one partner to coordinate with rather than a group. It made me a little nervous in the first step-by-step instructions, and after. In this dance, I’d be close to Syaoran with our hands touching for nearly the entirety of it, and in several steps his hand would go to my waist or my back.
In the village, dancing was divided between boys and girls, and any mingling of the two consisted of more skipping and clapping, timing the turn of a heel in sync with the others before starting from the beginning again. It was never complicated.
“And when he asks you to dance, which bow do you use?” Feng quizzed, watching me with a hungry eagerness.
I put my arms out and forward to make the shape of a circle, my fingertips touching. My chin dipped down and my back slightly with it.
“No, no,” scolded Feng. “It’s like this.”
As she demonstrated, I again noticed how fair her complexion was to mine. I had the skin tone of a farmer, and she a noble lady. My hands still had a roughness to them, while her own were soft and flawless.
“And bend your knees only slightly, keep your back a little bit straighter.”
I did my best to follow the instruction exactly.
“Much better.”
I smiled, relieved for a moment. Syaoran offered his hand, and I took it. His own had a roughness as well. Not the sort of someone who labored in the fields, but the hands that were used every day. Warm hands. Strong hands.
“You’re blushing,” said Syaoran.
“What?” I looked up, realizing what he’d said.
“Nervous?”
I was, but I shook my head in denial.
He smiled. “It’s alright. It’s just us. No one is watching, and you don’t have to get it perfect.”
A part of me felt better at that notion: I didn’t need to be perfect. But my heart still fluttered. As we went through the motions at Feng’s instruction, I pulled away my thoughts to concentrate on the next step and the next one.
“Stop sticking your tongue out,” scolded Feng.
I suddenly became aware of the face I was making. Syaoran chuckled.
“I don’t mind it,” whispered Syaoran. “When you know the dance by heart, it’ll be fine.”
I felt a little embarrassed, and tried to mind both my dancing and keeping my tongue behind my teeth without making some other face. It allowed me to forget that I was dancing with a Juneun. In the moment, he was just my friend.
We stopped before the sun began to set, going back into the forest to forage. Kumquats, the last of the season, hid in high branches. The wood too thin to climb and the leaves too thick to navigate. Feng used magic of her own, causing the tree to shiver and drop its fruit.
After eating, with my reminiscing on making sweet paste from boiling and straining them in the village beside the other girls, we practiced our dance again. And once more after.
Syaoran complimented my improvement, remarking how Feng intervened less that time. He brought up his gourd taking a celebratory drink. I took one as well, feeling I’d earned it. It didn’t have much of a scent to it, and the initial flavor was sweet with an aftertaste that was hard to describe. It felt like it left a thin film in my mouth that quickly disappeared. It was odd, making my jaw lock for a second, but not at all unpleasant.
My body became warm with a bit more, and I fell asleep easily.
****
After two more days, I became confident in my slow mastery of things. I could carry myself in genuine politeness rather than a clumsy hope.
However, both Syaoran and Feng grew anxious. I couldn’t blame them. They weren’t accustomed to sleeping away from comfortable beds and private rooms. We went back between the walls, to the familiarity of things where butterflies gathered.
“You can go in and take a look,” said Syaoran.
“Why me?” I protested.
“You’re smaller than us.”
“You’re faster,” I argued.
“Only with magic,” said Syaoran.
“They’ll sense magic,” added Feng, fussing with her hair.
“Just go around quietly and see if they’re gone yet,” said Syaoran, warm yet distracted.
“You want me to leave the two of you alone?” I started, giving a sly look of my own. “Is it because you want to ask Feng to kiss you, and don’t want me around? You seem really eager to get rid of me.”
He smiled, though there was a rigidness to it.
She grimaced, scooting away.
“I didn’t hear denial,” I said. After four days alone together, I felt comfortable enough to give small teases.
“Just go,” groaned Syaoran.
I chuckled. It felt like so long since I could behave this way, to simply be Hisa. Not a human, or a prisoner, or a servant. Myself.
As I came to the hidden door of the inner wall, I felt disquiet. What would my relationship with Syaoran and Feng look like once Lord Kwan’s family left? Would I be allowed to continue behaving so familiarly with them, and carry on banter as I had away from the house? Or would I be expected to act only as a servant, my emotions kept at arm’s length from them? A part of me wanted to go back, to lie and say all of them were still there and looked like they’d stay for quite some time. But what sort of friend would that make me? I would be forfeiting all trust.
So, I went in.
Peeking around every corner and through every shrub, I moved quick and quiet. More than once I startled and hid behind something at the sight of a guardsman, mistaking him for a relative of Lord Kwan.
I didn’t hear unfamiliar voices. Nor did I count more horses than originally were in the stable.
I breathed relief, hurrying to go tell Syaoran and Feng the happy news. Coming around one corner of the veranda, I slid to a stop. Lord Kwan, in conversation with someone I didn’t recognize. I turned on my heel, dashing back flush faced. Maybe they didn’t notice me.
“Hisa,” said Lord Kwan. A low and gentle call, judging by the tone. It didn’t sound like a demand, or angry. More like he was taking note as he passed by.
Now, I needed to make a choice. I didn’t think I’d be able to hold myself together if a series of questions were asked. At the same time, I would humiliate Lord Kwan if I didn’t return and answer his call. And I had only seconds to decide.
I walked back. Humiliating him was the greater offense. I’d just need to keep my wits and avoid answering directly as much as I could.
Standing before them in my rough-spun clothes, I bowed the way Feng instructed, and kept my head low. “My lord.”
“Your bow improved. More refined than I remember,” said Lord Kwan.
“I’ve been practicing, my lord,” I said, biting at my tongue when I realized that I’d volunteered information. Information that would surely invite questions. “I was told you were expecting important guests. I didn’t want to embarrass your household.”
“Only my household?”
“Or you, my lord,” I stuttered, correcting myself.
“Look at me, Hisa.”
I breathed in deep, praying for courage, for strength. Looking up, Lord Kwan’s brother was almost a mirror image. His jaw slightly more squared, eyes silver, and a thin scar through his left brow differentiated him from Lord Kwan; things easily missed until closer inspection was made.
“A human,” said his brother.
“My brother, Kwang, will be staying with us an additional day. Let Syaoran know he can come home.”
“Syaoran?”
He gave me a knowing look with that hint of a smile. “You’ve been hiding out together, have you not?”
I went rigid.
“I don’t blame her,” said Kwang. “Our brothers aren’t known for patience. I’m surprised not all the servants hid themselves away.”
Lord Kwan ignored the comment. “Invite Feng in as well. Best not to annoy her or lead her to feel jilted.”
“Is she still looking for a proposal from you?” teased Kwang.
“It would appear so,” said Lord Kwan. “When you return, Hisa, rinse off and bring in the tea from your village. My brother has been curious to try it.”
I obeyed, swift as my legs would take me—remembering, once at the hidden door, that I’d forgotten to bow before leaving.
My message delivered, I hurried to my room to clean and dress to present myself better. I fetched the tea my village gave as offerings, brewing it as I’d done every time before. And, as I’d done every time before, I waited for Lord Kwan’s invitation into his room after I announced myself. So, I was surprised to see the doors open and Syaoran gesturing for me to enter.
Like me, he’d cleaned himself up and changed into fresh clothing. I felt strange in that moment. I’d never seen him behave so much like a servant. He stood, impressive and with every movement under full control.
Unlike all my previous times in Lord Kwan’s room, I wasn’t invited to sit with him. Instead, I stood beside Syaoran while the lords enjoyed seasonal fruits and tea. I stole glances to Syaoran, looking for cues on what to do. Twice, I saw him stealing a glance to me. Concern?
“So, you’re from one of the villages under my brother’s protection.”
I was slow to realize Kwang spoke to me. Another stolen glance, Syaoran gave a slight point of his chin.
“Yes, my lord.”
“He never speaks about the humans,” said Kwang. “Tell me, is he feared or revered?”
I didn’t know how to answer, looking to Syaoran and he tried to subtly mouth the word loved.
“We,” I hesitated, “don’t know him well enough for either.”
Kwang went into a fit of laughs. Lord Kwan, on the other hand, didn’t appear bothered by it. He remained placid, peeling an orange with ease; the skin of it in one piece.
“We’re grateful,” I tried to correct, “for all his protection. Sometimes the years are hard. Without him, I think they might be impossible. He makes sure the earth is blessed, and fends off the Kurai from plaguing us. All without seeking reward.”
“That sounds about right,” said Kwang, musing.
“I don’t require acknowledgement to perform my duties to the world.”
I looked to Lord Kwan, wondering if I’d said something out of place.
“Other Juneun could learn from you,” said his brother. “But it’s not such a bad thing to receive due praise and gifts once in a while from the humans. Most are so struck by our mere presence, they grovel.”
“It is not necessary,” said Lord Kwan. Dismissive, but I respected it.
“Our sister would argue that the accolades bring clout and raises one’s station.”
“Our sister knows nothing of the troubles in the world. She only thinks she does. Status means nothing against the Kurai. Not the smart ones.”
“It scares off the weaker ones. Saves us a lot of trouble.”
Upon their cue, I stepped over to them, refilling their cups with their chosen drink.
“How do you like being in the service of a Juneun?” asked Kwang.
Caught off guard, I nearly spilled. My mind raced to form a suitable answer—one that sounded elegant enough. “Lord Kwan doesn’t say much. When he does, he’s precise with his words. He’s not unkind, and I think he is a good master.”
Kwang snorted in his laugh. “It’s a safe answer.”
“Speak freely, Hisa,” commanded Lord Kwan. He didn’t look up from his drink, which somehow made me feel more watched.
I looked to Syaoran for cues. He stood perfectly still.
“I,” my throat grew dry and tight. “When I first arrived, I was afraid. I thought he was cold. But I’ve learned it is just the way of nobles, and I wasn’t used to it.”
“And are you used to it now?” Kwang stared at me, the same as Lord Kwan had, studying the slightest movements consciously and unconsciously done. Like his brother, his eyes held an intensity. Unlike his brother, a smile accompanied his gaze, seeming amused.
“I think,” I said. “Or, I’m learning to be.”
He shifted his gaze to Lord Kwan, waving me off to dismiss.
I wasted no time retreating back to Syaoran’s side. Again, I stole glances, trying to measure if I’d done anything wrong and looking for cues on what to do next.
He kept still, regal.
“She cleans up okay,” said Kwang. “Not very pretty though.”
Again, the words stung. I knew the truth, but it still hurt to hear.
“Beauty is not necessary to be a good servant,” said Lord Kwan, setting down his tea.
“I helps,” said Kwang with a shrug.
“In what way?” Much like a tiger, he cut his brother from any cheeky response. “Does beauty allow them to brew the tea faster? Clean more efficiently? Does it command the fruits to ferment into wine and sooner?”
Kwang grumbled. “If this is how you treat me, I’d hate to see how you treat someone you hate.”
“Usually with the tip of my blade,” said Lord Kwan.
His brother snickered. “Sara tells everyone you’ve lost all humor.”