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“This is an insult to the family!”
Kwan ignored his father’s roaring.
“Are you listening to me? For centuries, everyone believed you, alone, held some power against Gumiho. And that soft-faced princeling is the one to bring her head to the royal court! Do you know what position you’ve put us in?”
“I’m sure the clan will recover,” said Kwan, disinterested.
“I’m to suffer my youngest sons allying themselves with Kurai—former or not, they’re still devils among us. And now to lose this connection to the crown. Have you lost all sense, boy‽”
Kwan said nothing, maintaining a distant stare.
“Father, please,” said Kwang. “You know Borsi and the others swore their fealty to our family. The betrayal was not done willingly. And you forget that sixteen clan lords snuffed out Gumiho, with Kwan taking the lead. For the first time in centuries, a unified force came down on a single foe. Even so, two of the lords lost their lives.”
“Do not make excuses for your brother!”
Kwang went rigid, shoulders stiff, jaw set, and brow somewhere between a scowl and a plea.
“The princess was undecided,” said Kwan. “So, the king demanded a trial to decide who to pick. Urekkato brought Gumiho’s head back. That was the condition.”
“But, surely you cut the bitch’s head from her shoulders. Not a small lord still wet behind the ears,” said Beom, goading.
“Shut up,” demanded their father. “I have it on good authority Eumeh already decided on Kwan, and he refused it. His arrogance knows no bounds.”
“I have other brothers you could have sent.”
“I sent you specifically,” growled their father. “You had one job in the royal court, and you still managed to fail the family.”
Kwan shifted his gaze. “As I said. I have other unmarried brothers. It is not my fault you chose poorly among us.”
A threat now loomed in his voice, “If we were not surrounded by guests, I would whip sense into you.”
Kwan held eye contact; stone faced an unimpressed.
With a pensive sigh, the Tiger Clan patriarch reeled in his tone. “I will not stay. I’ve suffered enough insult to last centuries.” He stood, looking down at his sons—his surviving sons. “I suspect you never meant to avenge your sisters. It should have been you to walk into the grave.”
“Father, you don’t mean that,” said Seong. The first to want for a fight, but had boundaries of his own, even when it came to their father.
“You are upset,” said Yuz. “These are the heated words of anger.”
“What’s worse,” said their father, his tone bordering defeat, “is that you let that fox trounce around your house like he’s one of us. We should kill them all, if we know what’s good for us. After what they did.”
“You are tired, father,” said Yuz. “And it is a long way to home. I will ride with you.”
“And I,” said Seong.
Kwan shifted his gaze to his elder brothers, the only thanks he could offer under the watch of their father.
****
He wandered the walk ways of his estate, aimless as he thought back to the events that transpired. It’d been Urekkato to suggest the condition that would win the engagement, with Taiga and Haru fast to agree. He’d made a promise, so long ago that he wondered if it’d all been a dream. A promise to protect her from all of them. But to argue would only lend suspicion. He was bound by this oath, having made it in a passion of youth. At the same time, he couldn’t ignore the decree of his king. His only hope, to save face, was to make it to her first and do the deed himself.
So, he did. The race to get to her past the hoard of Kurai in her guard, and the fear of what should happen if he didn’t make it first—would he be forced to turn his blade on a fellow Juneun? He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk the slight chance that he’d be forced to turn on his kin, and leave himself open to Gumiho.
Bloodied and exhausted, but still himself, he hatched the plan with Urekkato to hand over the credit. The Cat Clan princeling displayed skill and grace, speed fluid and in full control. He’d kept on his feet, and the Kurai slain were beyond counting. If Dae Jum wanted a champion, Urekkato would suffice better than himself, and with a charm that was infectious in the courts.
His thoughts faded as he noted Juro placing a pair of wood sandals in front of a room that was not his own. His friend struggled to maintain a face that was also not his own, and carried himself with heavy shoulders. A strange sight.
He brushed it off, continuing his walk.
The carefully curated smiles of his guests bothered him. As they gossiped, and as ladies ran their eyes over to weigh their chances, it bothered him. They had no grasp of the tragedy it took to achieve this moment. Blissful ignorance with total disregard to the cost of war. Better if it’d stayed his burden alone. It wasn’t simply two lords lost in pursuit of a princess. Men from each clan, loyal and brave to their last, were lost as well. The delay in this announcement was not simply to wait out the winter.
In his careless stroll, his foot knocked the edge of something. Looking down, he saw the sandals Juro had placed earlier, and now noted the door before them was Hisa’s room.
The human had stayed beside him on his return, never asking with words what’d happened. It was the concern in her eyes that asked while her mouth refrained from making them real. There was no chastising or exaggeration either. The simple want of his recovery, and to be of use. He closed his eyes, shutting out the memory. Even so, he could remember humming—pleasant, though not very prettily—in short spells.
It seemed she knew a kind of loneliness, and refused him that experience. No matter how he returned, he couldn’t scare her off. From that first night, she’d decided there would be no more loneliness, and stayed.
Whatever transpired, leading to this moment, he wouldn’t get answers staring down.
Urekkato and Syaoran held each other’s company beside the koi pond, seeming in good humor over something. One of few that the fox spirit felt comfortable around.
“Where is Juro?” asked Kwan.
Urekkato looked up. “I believe he went up river, grieving a broken heart.”
Kwan stared, tired and in no mood to guess at the implication.
“He proposed to Hisa,” explained Syaoran. “And she refused him.”
“Ran from him is more like it,” said Urekkato. “Or, that’s what the serfs who claimed to have seen it say.”
“I see,” said Kwan, not wanting to indulge their gossip. He moved on, now having a heading. Though, he was in no great hurry.
****
Despite his attire, Kwan walked through with unmatched silence.
Unlike Juro, whose love making was noisy and easy to follow. Hence the reason for straying so far from the walls of his estate. They were still his lands, however, and right of way was given to him, regardless of desired privacy.
The girl was bent over a fallen trunk, and her dress tossed above her hips.
His approach was well timed, judging by the relief of both that it was over. “Juro.”
Juro jumped, assembling himself. “Lord Kwan, yes. I was in the midst of vigorous discussion.”
The girl too, in service to Urekkato, tried to appear properly put, and seated herself out of the way.
“Of course,” said Kwan. “I’ve already heard minor details about the topic.”
Juro sighed.
“You know that she cannot accept any offers of marriage or mistress while she’s serving out a sentence, do you not?”
His face screwed itself up, twisting back to its original form. A moment of contemplation, and a false smile grew on him. “Yes. Of course. I suppose I was caught up with the happiness with the announcement of the princess’s engagement, I forgot the circumstances.”
Kwan watched, seeing the inner workings of Juro’s mind written across his face and spreading to the rest of his body language. A slow rebuild of himself.
“Her retreat was not rejection, but in honoring her service first.”
“A wonderful virtue,” said Kwan.
Juro scrunched his face. “There are rumors that your bed has seen the virtue of every lady in your house.”
Kwan folded his arms, scoffing. “I have taken none of the women in my service to my bed. I find myself more preoccupied with too much else.”
The response seemed to satisfy the former Kurai. A relief from the thought of comparison.
“Still, I must send her a token of my affections now and again, lest she forget me in my absence. Tell me, what are the things she adores most in this world? I would have them sent to her frequently if possible.”
“You’d fare better to ask her yourself,” said Kwan, taking his time with his words. “It doesn’t suit to let a woman think you can read her mind. Best she knows an active effort is made for her affection. Do you agree?”
“It is true. Though I will save it for tomorrow when we have both recovered.”
“Before you ride off, then. It’ll stay fresh in your mind.”
“That is a fact to consider.”
Kwan looked from the former Kurai to the woman shifting in her spot. “Are you quite done with your vigorous discussion?”
“We need a little more time, I think,” said Juro, looking to her and waiting for agreement.
A reluctant nod.
“If you’re certain,” said Kwan, giving a last chance. She didn’t accept, allowing him to dismiss himself and head home.
“Come here,” cooed Juro when more secure of no further interruption. “You may help me to practice for my wedding night. I did inform that I would still have a mistress, and I do enjoy the crisp and wooded smell of you. Should your lord allow it.”
Kwan continued his pace, remembering a conversation. We might say that is unkind. Though, if she had a change of heart, he wouldn’t dissuade her from her choice. It would be a leap in her station. One any family would likely accept with reverence and waste no time bragging to their neighbors.
If she had such a motive, then she was simply a variant of what he knew in the whole of his life.
He bid his farewells to guests as they left. Going through the motions practiced and perfected in his earliest years. Comments on the beautiful displays, the wines, and the weather went among other small notes covering what they’d really wanted to say. Insincere smiles and a double meaning to words, hinting at an insult.
It didn’t matter. In a decade, the event will have been forgotten.
Syaoran walked the courtyard, deep in thought.
“You look as though you mean to tell me bad news,” said Kwan. “To do with Beom or Kwang, undoubtedly.”
His fox ears flattened, and he gave an apologetic face. “No, lord. It’s... One of your house gave insult to Urekkato. A few heated words. And he’s soured.”
“Then take a bamboo stick and deliver forty swats,” said Kwan, dismissive and walking on. It irritated him, expecting better of his staff in how they treated a high-ranking guest in his home. Something that, surely, all of them knew.
“It’s Hisa, my lord,” said Syaoran.
Kwan stopped in his step. Timid Hisa? His mind recalled every time he’d seen her trembling and meek, as recently as this past winter. So he kept still, contemplating.
“I provoked it, my lord,” said Syaoran, with an undertone of urgency. “The lashings should go to me.”
Kwan turned. “Explain.”
“I’d accidentally exposed Lord Juro’s excitement to Lord Urekkato. And I allowed myself to be convinced of encouraging an encounter I knew wouldn’t end happily.”
“It sounds as though the slight was against Juro, and not Urekkato.”
Syaoran averted his gaze. “Hisa confronted us. She’d overheard our reveling.”
“I see.”
Syaoran gave a deep bow, straight backed and humbled. “I accept full responsibility.”
Kwan observed, weighing his options. “Where is Hisa now?”
“I’m not sure,” said Syaoran, staying in place, head low.
“Urekkato?”
“I believe he planned a bath and then to retire to his room.”
Knowing the Cat Clan princeling, he was unlikely to be alone for either. Which made for a good enough distraction for him, and a simple enough excuse to delay action on Kwan’s behalf.
“Have Hisa sent to me first thing in the morning,” said Kwan. Hopefully, he could think of some suitable outlet by then. Forty strikes to someone ignorant, reacting to a provocation, seemed overly excessive. She was also human, and likely wouldn’t withstand it at the hand of a Juneun.
****
Lying in bed, Kwan’s mind refused him rest. Even as the night grew ever late, sleep evaded him.
Gumiho was dead. He could replace his soul. But there was something still in his gut, warning him. He felt, somehow, still bound to his promise. Maybe the rowdiness within his house put him on edge. No, the feeling was before then. It’d been there through winter.
The distant moans didn’t bother him. Nor the pleading of one to another, whispering their desire. It was different, from within. Today burning a fiercer warning, telling him not to drop his guard.
He looked to his newest scar, running the length of his arm, finely visible, and touched at his face where he’d been cut. A thread of a mark left from nose to ear, though it rightly should’ve taken his eye.
No announcement of Gumiho’s death was made until today. Kwan wanted to be sure, even in spite of the evidence. Yet, he still wasn’t.
The door slid open, hardly making a sound. His head swiveled over, seeing Eumeh in her night gown. Sitting up, he tried to read her expression for clues. She kept her face down.
“Princess? What is the matter?”
She walked to him. As he started to stand, her hand went to rest atop his shoulder and stopped him. “Nothing is the matter.”
He stared, trying to see through her coy demeanor.
She pressed herself on him, lips touching, he pushed back only just. “You are engaged to another.”
“And my future husband doesn’t take fidelity seriously. Why should I?” strands of silken, black hair slid forward as she looked down at him.
“Because you are a woman.”
She frowned. “He’s with two of my maids right now. More interested in seducing servants than to seduce his own fiancée.”
Kwan lifted her hands from him, placing them to her sides.
“I wanted my first to be with the man who loves me. Not a man who appears to only love my title and assets. Now, I refuse him being first.”
“I cannot,” said Kwan, looking away. “Whatever kindred feeling, that is all there is. I will not insult the crown, or my friend. And not while both are a guest in my house.”
“If we were not in your house?”
He leered at her.
“If I command you of it?”
Kwan’s jaw locked, holding heated terms.
“I am a princess. And you are a vassal of the royal family. You refused me once already.”
“I will refuse again, rather than tarnish honor.”
Her frown deepened. “I know it was you who suggested a trial. Even if Urekkato named it, I know it was you who initiated it. Do you find me so repulsive?”
Kwan sighed and looked away. “I did not say that, princess.”
“Then do me this kindness. At the very least so that I am prepared for whatever mockery I’m to endure with him.”
He said nothing, and kept his gaze down.
She advanced, raising her knee to straddle him. His hand reacted, stopping her. They matched each other’s glowering.
“Then I will say you stole me into your room,” said Eumeh. “And that you robbed Urekkato of his wedding rite. How many enemies can you afford, now that Gumiho is dead?”
Kwan’s nose crinkled. “Whether I do or do not, you could claim the same.”
“Then you may as well.”
His lungs drew in a slow inhale, tempering his muscles. This wasn’t a foe he could cut down.
She climbed on him, unfastening the ties of his own night gown and sliding them off his shoulders. Pulling him to her lips, she disrobed herself. Her eyes shut, his lingered open. Regardless of what transpired, she was a princess and held the final word. One that could ruin him, yes, imprison him, of course, and which robbed his personal dignity. His hand took the small of her back as he came up with a plan; something to remind her that he wasn’t a pet or personal toy.
He shut his eyes, bracing her against him and swallowing in her giggling moan.
She pushed off him for breath. “That’s more like it.”
Kwan said nothing, taking his free hand to hook behind her head, fingers combing through her hair and bringing her down for a more passionate kiss—providing the illusion she wanted. He felt her lips smile, her arms wrapping around him. The hand on her back sliding down, guiding her hips into a repeating motion against him. When she got the idea, going on her own initiative and at her own pace, his hand fell a little lower to grasp at her.
He pretended to explore her, a playful aggression. She slowed, perhaps understanding he wouldn’t deliver what she wanted any time soon. So, he took a lover’s role, pulling her to her back while he loomed over giving only a brief moment to seem as though he needed to catch his breath in a pant. Kisses were planted down her neck and between her breasts, pretending he’d submitted to the role and biding time for her to trust his next move.
He lifted her up on him again, thumbs brushing up and down her inner thighs. She looked down into his eyes, bringing herself closer to him. Seizing his chance, he turned her around, pinning her to his table.
“What are you doing?” demanded Eumeh in a whisper.
Kwan placed his torso against her back, allowing his weight to hold her. “I have no security that you’ll make me free of this. So, I will perform in the way that gratifies me most.”
Her face twisted, indignant. He ignored it, and did as she originally commanded. If the private humiliation was enough, she wouldn’t come to him again, or command that he come to her. So, he didn’t put on the pretense, and was not the tender lover she wanted out of him. The sooner they were through, the sooner he’d know his fate.