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Lord Kwan left several times during autumn, returning with heavy fatigue but always himself. I was thankful for it. Less because I was afraid—and I was still afraid—and more that I hated seeing anyone chained up like a monster.
When he did arrive home, I put aside all other things to tend to him. In one instance, his arm was bloodied, cut deep, as was his side, and a slash cut across his face. I wasn’t completely useless on that return. I’d learned how to help clean and mend wounds after that boar tore up Lan’s poor ox. And Lord Kwan’s house was stocked with medicinal herbs to turn into salves. Yua, however, took care of the stitching needed to his arm, convinced I was still too clumsy. I didn’t argue it. Nor did I ask Lord Kwan what’d happened, or why he didn’t use his magic to close the wounds.
If he’d come back in such a state, it surely wasn’t the business of a human to know. A part of me didn’t want to know, didn’t want to think that there really could be something out there more powerful than Lord Kwan. I only wanted his recovery, and stayed beside him for as long as he let me.
Even though I knew he would be fine, being a powerful Juneun with healing magic, my human brain was still fearful for him at the sight of his injuries. For anyone in the village, wounds like that would need constant monitoring and care for a week or more, and still the man would need to take rest to fully recover.
Winter.
And I spent a great deal of my time in my room, sewing together the dress I would wear when Lord Kwan hosted court. The other women went between making their own, and sewing up the uniforms of the male servants. I was far slower, trying to make things as near to perfect as I could. Even though I knew I would be so slow, a novice at the craft, it frustrated me. I wanted so badly to become adept enough to be useful.
There was also the realization that I wouldn’t have more practice if this wasn’t a regular occurrence. I’d need to look for other ways to practice any part of it.
The season was a balance of opposites. A quiet that allowed Lord Kwan to stay, yet everyone was abuzz with anticipation for spring. The dread of waiting until the deep snows were gone, yet thankful they were there to give rest. Cold air and warm floors.
I’d lost track of the days until I heard a passing mention of the winter solstice. Counting from there, it was almost my birthday. In two days.
Again, I would be away from Hisato and the rest of my family. I wondered if they were alright. Did enough get preserved for winter? Was there wood to keep the house warm? Did they manage to trade enough to get winter shoes? Were all the blankets in good shape, or in need of reweaving to hold in warmth?
Saddened, I took more breaks over the next few days. Mostly, I walked the veranda, with everything else covered in thick snow. The white landscape lonely without the colors of spring and summer. It didn’t look dead, per say. Rather, it slumbered deeply, patiently waiting.
I needed to be patient too.
The day I turned seventeen, I lay in bed, thinking; my bunny staring back at me, reminding me of every intrusive thought that bid me to go back to sleep. Even as my body told me to get up, to do something with myself, I tried to make myself still. I did eventually give in, and not too long after. Rather than put any work into my usual task, I walked aimlessly wherever I could, sorely missing my family.
“Hisa?” Syaoran took my shoulder to turn me around. “You’re not your usual self. You’ve walked by here twice already.”
“Did I?” I blinked, my mind slow to regroup.
“Is something wrong? You’re usually busy about something or another, and not walking circles around the house.”
I tried to smile, the biggest one I could muster. “I’m just feeling homesick. It’s my birthday, mine and my brother’s. I just really miss them. And, I’m worried about them. If they’re okay.”
“I didn’t know it was your birthday,” said Syaoran, seeming to ignore the rest. He held out a palm, furling his fingers into a gentle fist. When they opened again, a silver coin was in his hand.
I admit, I was impressed by it. I’d only ever seen a silver coin half a dozen times in my life, and my family only ever held one twice. “Magic?”
He smiled. “It’s an easy spell.” He took my hand, placing the coin in it. A small thing that I feared would get lost in the snow if I dropped it. “For children, it’s a bronze coin. For you, a silver. And gold is for when a girl or boy reaches marrying age. It’s usually the last one they get.”
“For what?” I asked.
“It’s a gift. For your birthday,” he flashed a toothy smile, and the same warmth he’d shown from the day I arrived. “You don’t need it now, of course. But when you go back, you’ll have a couple in hand. So no more pacing around worried. It’s making me nervous.”
“I make you nervous?” I said with a cocked brow.
His ears drooped. “Force of habit. People walking by frequently for seemingly no reason make me feel like I’m being watched. Like they think I’m up to no good.”
Which reminded me. “Did you use this spell to find what you were looking for?”
His ears pointed straight, as though I’d blurted out his most humiliating secret in the midst of a crowd. “It’s, well, that’s a little more complicated. The spell summons small and ordinary things. But if something has magic attached to it, it usually won’t come when it’s called by a spell. That’s why I’ve been looking for it without magic.”
“You still haven’t found it?” I asked in a whisper, my brow now pleading to let me help him. “If you told me what it looks like, at least—”
He shook his head, raising a palm to stop me from finishing my words. “I appreciate the thought. It’s kind of you. But, I don’t want to get you in the middle of things.”
“That sounds like you’re up to no good.”
His ears drooped again, and his hands combed nervously through his ginger hair. “I guess it does. But, I’m not. I swear.”
I nodded, bowing afterwards the way I’d practiced to allow him to leave. He did the same, and walked opposite my direction. When he turned the corner, I sighed and looked at the little coin. I didn’t need it right now, that was true. At the same time, it was so small that I worried I’d lose it before a year complete. Were it a simple bronze coin, it’d be something I’d give in prayer without hesitation.
I remembered then what most of my recent prayers had been. For the health of my family, and the safe returns of Lord Kwan. And any time I’d given thanks in the past year, when Fumei brought me news about the village, or the day following Lord Kwan’s recovery. But I could scarce remember when I gave back in prayer for the good things that happened. Two years, I think, or three.
As much as I wanted to keep the coin, to take it home, it seemed like such a selfish thing to do. But the shrine was below the mountain. Well, the shrine I’d always prayed at. In remembering, there was another shrine kept in the villa, tucked in the farthest back garden. Though, the path was likely blocked with snow.
No. I’d made up my mind.
Changing into my rough-spun clothes, laying my small ones under what Fumei brought for me, and pulling my deel over it, I clutched that coin tight in my fist. The snow reached my knee as I worked to break a path, my feet freezing instantly. It caused so much pain that I stopped to go back and stand on the heated floor until I recovered. Back and forth like a lunatic, until I’d made it to the shrine in the late afternoon.
I was panting, sweating, but my toes were numb and swollen and cold. In my attempt to recover, I kicked off my shoes and wedged myself to fit inside my deel. My hands reached under, rubbing back and forth to heat up my feet.
Now that I was here, however, I started to doubt. All my prayers and thanks were because of the unfortunate events that kept me on this side of the river. Did I actually owe anything? Or was it my optimism, defending my mind from fully understanding that I was still a prisoner—that my fate hung on the whims of a single person? He enjoyed my company on his terms, but that wouldn’t spare me the rod or being placed back in the kennels if he decided so.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, cocooned in myself. I’d never hesitated before. And I couldn’t tell if it was because the coin was silver, or if I had genuine resentment and only now realized it. My frustration and solitude led me to cry, freely. I couldn’t hold back anymore after all my confusion and loneliness. So, I stayed curled up, sobbing.
The air bit at the tips of my ears, driving my hands to bring my hair forward to cover them. It wasn’t very long, but enough to make it less likely that someone would mistake me for a boy again. Brushing my shoulders and still horribly uneven, though it felt thicker and full of life. After five long years, would my brothers recognize me? Would I recognize them? They’d also shaved off their hair to rid themselves of lice.
The silver coin still in hand, I got to my feet and started to walk back to the house. Of the thousand things I could ask for in prayer, I knew in my heart that the things I desired most were impossible things. Things for a life I’d never be able to lead.
The sun hid itself away, painting the sky in deep, vivid colors as the first stars shown against the darkest of blues. And though the temperature grew colder still, I stopped to watch it. Was there ever a more beautiful thing than the heavens?
A twig snapped, sounding as if it’d been pulled from a bush. Twisting my neck to look over, I saw a white doe looking at me. Though there were hints of the ordinary deer coloring to her rump and shoulder. Her eyes perfectly brown, and her nose perfectly black, she looked surprised to see me and that I’d seen her. A few curious steps closer, and to my left, her ears went on alert. Everything about her gave her an air of grace and shyness. I was transfixed.
In shifting my weight, I’d slipped. My arms shot out, sinking into the snow but stopping the rest of me from doing so. Whipping my head back up, the doe was gone. Not even a break in the crisp, white of winter to indicate she was ever there to begin with. I got up, dusting myself free of clinging cold, and realizing I’d dropped the silver coin.
It served me right, I supposed, being selfish. And I wished I’d never gone to the shrine at all. There was nothing to be done about it now, except to continue to the house.
Halfway back, I spotted Lord Kwan walking up the path I’d made. There wasn’t room for us to pass each other, and I’d stood still in trying to decide if I should turn around and let him be on his way, or if it looked like he came this direction to inspect some other part of the yard.
His eyes looked from my sloppy work, studying, to me. He tilted his head, taking in my shabby appearance as he came closer.
“Eager to get to the shrine?”
I started to nod, fast remembering my manners and straightening my posture. “I went to pray, my lord.”
“Did you now?” His voice took a gentle curiosity. “What was so important that you broke this path?”
I kept my hands in front of me, red and bitterly hurting as they were. “It’s my birthday, my lord. And I wanted to make a wish. But I don’t think any of my wishing will come true.”
He stayed silent, unmoving. “What did you wish for?”
“My lord?” I blinked up at him, not quite understanding what he wanted.
“If it is your birthday, it shouldn’t be such a sad event. Name what you wished for. I will present it to you.”
I gave a look of apology. Of course I wanted so many things. It just didn’t feel right to ask it of my jailor. So, I thought of which one sounded most impossible. “The same wish I’ve made since I was fifteen.”
He quirked a brow, that hint of a smile waiting on me.
“For my first kiss.”
He grunted, soft and quick in his reaction.
“So, you see, it’s impossible of me to ask it of anyone. A kiss should be freely given, not coerced.”
“Indeed,” said Lord Kwan. “It’s a waste of a first kiss if one or both feel obligated to it.”
“Right,” I said with the best smile I could conjure.
“Close your eyes,” said Lord Kwan.
My smile faded, brow pressing as I tried to understand his tone and read his placid expression. “Huh?”
“You don’t trust me?”
I tried to bring my smile back. “As you trust me, my lord, yes.”
He waited, weighing what I’d said, and repeated his command. “Close your eyes.”
I was confused, but obliged. Perhaps he meant to do the same fanciful trick as Syaoran, and place some trinket in my hand. My fingers fidgeted, readying to be plucked up. What I didn’t expect was the brush of his lips against mine, cool to the touch, or his hand cupping my chin to lift my face. A tender press against my lips. I felt his fingers glide across my cheek, over that ugly scar, and under the back of my jaw so softly. Through it all, I kept my eyes closed.
It was gentle, and short lived. And I liked it. That’s what surprised me the most.
When he lifted his lips from mine, and his hand fell away, the bite of winter’s wind didn’t feel quite so cruel. I opened my eyes, my heart light and racing.
That hint of a smile seemed somehow stronger on him. “It was not such an impossible wish after all.”
I stood there, blinking, stupefied. I felt my face flush a slow and rosy color, my breath caught in my throat. I stared, wordless.
“Shall we go back inside?” He turned, walking on without bothering to see if I followed.
All I could do is replay what happened in my head, over and over to try and make sense of it. His cool hands—not cold—and the gentleness of his touch. “Lord Kwan!” I called, well, shouted.
He stopped, looking back at me in a casual pace.
“I haven’t asked you my question today.”
His eyes gave a slow blink, reminding me how much like a tiger I first imagined him to be.
“Did—” No, that wasn’t how I wanted to say it. Why was it so hard every time to ask this particular thing? “Are you the one who cured the village of the pox all those years ago?”
He watched me, saying nothing and keeping that soft smile on his face. His eyes closed, and he turned to continue for the house.
Snow began to fall, soft and silent.
****
I couldn’t fall asleep easily that night, tossing and turning and confused as I was.
He’d kissed me. One of the most power Juneun, a handsome spirit, a noble lord, kissed me. It was not a violent sort of kiss, where a man might grab a girl and pull her against him. Nor was it a passion of mutual embrace, clinging to one another. It was something more innocent, and yet with just as much feeling.
But why? Why did it feel that way? Why did I think it felt that way?
My face grew hot the more vividly I remembered, or if I tried to picture what it might’ve looked like. If his eyes were opened or closed.
It had to be my imagination. That part of me always secretly running wild with wishes. He was engaged to a princess. Wasn’t that the whole reason for the fuss around the house, preparing to host court in the summer? Of course I was imagining things that weren’t there. And my imaginings held me hostage from any rest.
When I did finally fall asleep, I was glad to not have a single dream of it. Instead, my dreams were of a white stag, trudging through the snow, searching for something. A modest crown of brown antlers, and the steam of his breath, distinguished him from the tundra. He called out, a haunting echo of a cry, and waited in the silence for a response. When none came, he pressed on.
I didn’t understand why, but it made me sad.
I woke late that following morning, finding a set of gifts on my table. Notes accompanied each, though not all from the same person. Some seemed as though they tried to compliment. Previous assumptions somewhat waved away. I didn’t think anyone genuinely took notice or cared at all for my efforts. Some characters were harder to decipher, reading around them to help me guess at what the whole of the note said. Although there were no names to any of them, I treasured it all the same. Happier tears silently rolled from my face.
I didn’t feel quite so alone now. Even though I didn’t know who’d written any of them, I somehow felt valued by the acknowledgement. Hugging them close, I put the small collection of notes safely away, so that I could keep them.
One present was a new deel, lined with soft fur and lengthened a few inches shy of my ankle. Another was a brightly colored sash to keep the deel snug against me. A pair of thick boots, also lined with fur, and another containing heavy socks to help my feet fit in the boots better. The final one being a boar-hair brush.
They were not the very finest things, but I felt rich in that moment. So much joy swelling that guilt ensued for my having abandoned the shrine so selfishly.
I ate my breakfast, barely warm at that point, and hurried to put on my new things. In doing so, I admired the comfort of the socks, the forested green of the boots, deep maroon of the deel, and brilliant cerulean of the sash. A quick brush of my hair, and I rushed out my door. I had to find that silver coin and give it to the shrine in thanks.
To my relief, the snowfall during the night didn’t undo too much of my previous day’s work. I wasted no time stomping through it, looking for where I’d dropped the coin. When I’d found the two holes my arms made, I squatted down and carefully filtered through the fresh ice. My hands were fast numb, forcing me to stop several times to spew hot breath into them and rub them together fiercely before continuing on.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been at it, but I eventually found the coin and held fast to it. My legs had stiffened from staying in the same position so long in the cold, but I commanded them onward. At the shrine, I didn’t hesitate, tossing in the piece of silver and steepling my hands to give my sincerest apology and show of gratitude.