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I thought I was being clever, sneaking away the first chance I got while the guests were distracted by the theater performance. Not a word spoken by any of the actors, and their faces hidden behind masks, it was left to their dramatic and mesmerizing movements to tell the story, and for all else to imagine the rest. We’d done similar in the village, but lacked in the costume design and masks. But we all knew the stories well enough.
Blanket and clothes secure in my arms, I dashed to the kennels where quiet sleep surely awaited.
The thick, woven matt I’d made was still there, and the nights were not so cold. I felt some excitement in me as I laid down on it. I was too far from the rooms of the house to hear anything intimate, and no one would think to intrude over here. With luck, sleep soon found me.
That luck ended when I woke to the sound of something crashing. Night, and still very much dark, I couldn’t see what caused the noise, or where it’d come from. What I did find was a coat over my blanket, and not one that I recognized. The air was significantly cooler than when I first hid away here.
Wrapping myself in the jacket and curling under my blanket, I tried to reclaim sleep from my racing heartbeat. Sudden memories came back. A part of me wondered if it was still there. I sat up, about to reach for it when my itching eyes reminded me. I shut them tight, counting. One, two, three, four. And opened to lift up the loose stone.
The soft glow deep within invited me to take it and play with it to help sooth me into another drowsy state. I slid the pieces still able to move, hardly noticing what each tile was until—click. Another piece stuck. They were jumbled pieces of characters, trying to say something. Curious, and with everything else quiet, I played with it more, seeing if luck would help me solve it.
Click.
It was weird, like the pieces deliberately weren’t meant to match.
Click.
I kept trying, now invested in wanting to read the message, wanting to look inside. With every new click, it seemed like it shouldn’t match, but somehow started to make sense.
A heart without pride, a hand without greed. Feet not idle, tongue not hateful. With eyes that see through stone.
It didn’t make sense. Maybe it wasn’t meant to. A riddle or a poem or a spell. Spell! Before I opened the box, I shut my eyes and counted again. Even if Urekkato was likely asleep, it made me uncomfortable. I knew I wasn’t supposed to have this, and I didn’t want him to see it.
Inside the box was a bead of light, glowing like soft starlight. Staring at it, I felt a sense of comfort and safety. It looked, odd as it sounded in my thoughts, like it was breathing. Like it had a heartbeat of its own.
I marveled at it until I heard heavy foot fall. A guardsman probably. But in my panic, I closed the box and hid it under my clothes as I fast pulled my blanket over me. A warmth coaxed me back into sleep.
I woke up before dawn, without anyone needing to wake me, and felt more refreshed than I had the day before. Quickly, I put the puzzle box back and closed up its hiding place, straightening out the mat and folding the jacket and blanket to sit neatly on top. The clothes I’d need to change into safe in my arms, I planned to get a thank you note written and set it on the coat in case the owner returned.
In Lin’s room, I shut my eyes and counted, a part of me horrified with the thought that Urekkato might use me to peek at the women of the house. It wasn’t something I thought about when I’d made the deal, and now I regretted it. He’d said that closing my eyes would stop the spell for a while. But how long was a while?
Lin scolded one of the other girls, coming into the room late and dragging her feet, hair in disarray and a hurried yawn slowing her down. She’d been accused of going to Syaoran for the night, only for her to snap back that she’d gone to one of Lord Kwan’s brothers and that she couldn’t be blamed for taking the opportunity for a more comfortable life.
Complaints circled, about needing to pick up on her slack if she was too tired to keep up, and that her ambitions were too high. One woman started to rumor that the girl might get too much of an ego now.
I tried to ignore it. The way they talked about each other sometimes, it made me uncomfortable, and reminded me of the rumors about myself that spread through my village.
****
The celadon dishware set out every evening during court fascinated me. I’d never seen such elegant bowls or ewers or teapots. The green glaze and low relief images on them were detailed, from the largest subject to the tiny flowers along the edges. One pitcher sported the image of a bird with grand plumage over a meadow. Monochrome, its glaze caught the light and made it look like something from a dream. Another was shaped like a lotus bud, two toned to distinguish itself. A wine vase flaunted its decorative vines and flowers etched in it, and a crane swooping through them. The gray-green color gave the flat image the illusion of depth, as though at any moment they’d come to life and flourish in color.
Then there was the white porcelain reserved for the honored couple. Standing out against the various shades of gray-green and brown tints, the porcelain’s brilliance was ten-fold.
Iridescent, dark pieces were reserved for Lord Kwan and his brothers, distinguishing them without stealing from the fineness of the newly betrothed princess and her intended. Each of those pieces lacked any elaborate decoration etched in them. A single image for the initial aesthetic, but the real beauty seen in how it caught the light.
It must’ve taken someone half their lifetime to master the craft and create such things. And here it was, used as dining wear for special occasions, rather than as pieces of art to be admired every day. Like so much about holding court, it was something I couldn’t understand.
As I set up the tables with two other women, Yua came in searching for Syaoran—who seemed to disappear some time ago, since no one had seen him after yesterday morning.
A scream tore our attention, cuing us to rush in the direction. Nothing terrible, except that the pomegranate wine was spilled and the vases broken. Several of the men complained about the waste of good wine. Meanwhile I was heartbroken at the smashed pottery, the loss of the art.
Yua sighed, sending me to fetch replacements.
It was easy enough, though I’d decided to take one at a time to avoid accidentally dropping or spilling any of it. The storeroom unlocked, its door ajar, I walked in on a scene: Lin and Kwang in the midst of a passionate undressing. Smiles and chuckles and hands everywhere. I’d clapped my hand over my mouth and closed the door. However, I still needed to bring the wines before the start of the feast.
They hadn’t noticed my intrusion as I hurried to grab what I needed and get out. Dreading that I’d have to go back in repeatedly, I grabbed ewer after ewer to place outside and out of the way. Closing the door, I sighed my relief. Though, I went rigid again when I heard something fall from within, and breathless declarations from Lin.
I shuffled off, my stride restricted by my dress. Still, not wanting to spill, I kept to my plan of bringing one at a time. A lengthy walk, and the feasting underway, I tried to remain unnoticed. With several smooth returns, I pushed myself to bring the final two in one last transit. They were a little heavy, but I was sure I could do it.
I turned, and in my hurried steps I failed to see Juro right behind me. My worst fear of the night came to fruition. I’d spilled a generous amount on both of us and lost my hold on one of the ewers. It shattered on the pebbled path atop one of the large stepping stones, the wine fast escaping beneath the rock. At least I hadn’t fallen and smashed the other or cut myself up. Juro caught me.
“Lord Juro, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I made my frantic apology, getting back on my feet as my mind rushed to find some useful words. “Your robes. I, I’ll clean them. I’m so sorry.”
He held up a palm and shook his head. For a moment I feared. There was an effort put to my behalf over the smallest insult with words towards Urekkato. This was twice that I’d insulted Juro in some capacity. What was the punishment for that? And would there be anything to save me from it?
“I’m quite alright,” said Juro. “The pomegranate wine will make it look as though I’ve murdered someone, but I’ve honestly looked worse. And you’ll never get the stains out without magic. Don’t fret. Besides all that, I saw you going back and forth and came to see if I could be of service to you.”
“Service to me?” When I’d said the words, I realized his meaning.
“I should have announced myself,” said Juro. “But I didn’t think you were in that much of a hurry.”
“You mustn’t trouble yourself, my lord,” I said in response, trying to say it the way I thought the other women might. “You are a guest. I am a servant.”
“For now, yes,” said Juro, taking a deep inhale. “But maybe not after your service to Lord Kwan is up. If, by then, you’ve grown an affection for me, you will not be a servant. If an affection has blossomed with my every visit, you might become my wife.”
“Lord Juro, you know I can’t—”
“Yes, yes, not while you are under a sentence of debt. I understand. Why I can’t be allowed to pay the debt against you is beyond me, but,” he took my hands, still holding the pitcher, “when it is just the two of us, call me Juro. Not Lord Juro.”
I shook my head. “I can’t.” And I didn’t want to.
He looked crestfallen, forcing a gentle smile. “I hope, in time.”
I pulled away, turning and taking hasty steps. I should have learned my lesson the first time. My neck reared to look back. I should have been looking ahead. I collided with a redressed Kwang, spilling on him as well. Mentally I scolded myself, verbally I gave a profuse apology.
“You must forgive her Lord Kwang,” said Juro, coming to my defense. “Holding court is an exhausting task, especially for an understaffed house.”
Kwang gave an annoyed look.
“What were you doing in the wine stores, anyway?” pried Juro.
Kwang’s expression changed, to the sort that I recognized meant his brain was grasping for an adequate answer.
“Lord Kwang was already assisting me, Lord Juro,” I said. “He is my master’s brother, so I couldn’t refuse when he insisted.”
Juro twisted his face, suspicious of the answer I’d given.
“It’s been a long day for me as well,” said Kwang, building on the lie I’d made for him. “If that’s all that’s needed, I’ll see myself to my room and change.”
I nodded and gave a slight bow, trying my best to play off the scene. Kwang didn’t get more than a few steps away when Beom walked up. He froze at the sight of his brother. Meanwhile, I tried to appear as if I didn’t notice and sneak past. He stopped me.
“Somehow, I knew you’d be in some far corner playing with one of our brother’s servant girls.”
Kwang held back his tongue, looking away.
“You’re a mess.” His cold gaze moved to Juro, then to me. “I suppose you’re going to tell me this was somehow self-inflicted?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” said Kwang, but instead of the jovial and confident voice I’d known him for, he sounded like a boy. Not a warrior.
Beom scoffed. “You and Kwan are hellbent on making a mockery of our family.”
I looked up at him then, at the squareness of all his features. He hardly looked anything like his brothers, with a more set brow and narrower, green eyes. As much as he appeared more a mountain of a man by compare, what intimidated me most was the sudden meekness of Kwang.
“Since this one insists on contemptuous behavior, action is needed to make her aware of her place.”
“It was an accident, Beom,” snapped Kwang, though it came out more whimper than it did fierce.
“It’s an accident to splash wine on two guests of the house, on a Juneun lord, and to destroy the stock already set at the house?”
“The house?” I repeated.
“Are you so stupid to not remember your carelessness that caused the wines to topple? The entire reason you were sent to bring more, and did so in the laziest manner? Or do you think acting coyly will spare you?”
“But, I didn’t do that, my lord,” I said, now terrified. This brother, I knew wouldn’t be lenient with me. “I didn’t. I swear.”
He ripped the jug from my hands, glaring at me as he set it aside and gestured to his brother. “Hold out your arm, girl.”
I retreated my arms to my chest, as though I could somehow hide them, and shook my head. My knees trembled beneath me.
“Hold out your arm,” said Beom, his scowl deepening into a snarl.
“Beom, stop,” said Kwang. “This is not our house.”
Juro was at my side, taking my shoulders to try and spirit me off. Beom grabbed, preventing my quiet escape.
“Someone needs to put discipline into them. Since Kwan will not.” He yanked me from Juro.
“You overstep, Lord Beom,” said Juro. “I have already forgiven any trespass on my pride.”
Scared, I tried to make a run for it on my own. To hide in my room, or be anywhere else. Beom grabbed a fist full of my hair, standing me back in place. A horrible growl left him, the kind that came from a beast about to leap at its hunter. Both Kwang and Juro stepped back, unwilling to challenge. I didn’t know it—I was too focused on the pain and the sound of my own shrieks to hear—but I’d ruined my chance to let Juro and Kwang wear him down with words. There was nothing they could do. I wasn’t from their house, and Beom was the elder, a more powerful and higher ranked spirit.
He let go, leaving me to tremble and whimper in place. “Hold out your arm. If I repeat myself again, I will have you properly whipped rather than Kwang’s hand.”
On the brink of tears, I reached out as far as my muscled and good sense would allow. He grabbed my wrist, pulling to extend the full on my arm. At his gesture, a bamboo stick broke itself from the decorative dressing around the storehouse, and flew to him.
He offered it first to Kwang, as the offended family member, who shook his head in refusal. Undeterred, and more irritated, Beom smacked down on my arm with such force I was sure he’d broken it.
I screamed out, sharp, and recoiled as I fell to my knees. There was no holding back my crying now. I wept freely, holding my limb as it throbbed and stung with pain.
“Get up girl,” commanded Beom. “Forty strikes. I knew it was a lie from the start.”
Juro stepped between us. “Punishment has been dealt. You will cease this.”
“Out of my way, Kurai,” growled Beom.
I didn’t look to see what sort of expression Juro had, but his tone grew sharp and cold as he leveled his voice. “I am a lord. And a guest. But strike her again, and I will have it as your declaration of war.”
“Do you really think you could hope to win that war, toad?”
“Better to die with integrity than live in fear of a man’s shadow.”
“Then fetch your sword.”
Juro stormed off. My only champion gone.
Kwang stepped in. “Brother, you are taking this too far. Do you even hear yourself? You’re willing to declare war immediately after an announcement of peace? Over one servant girl?”
“I will beat out your defiance next, little brother, if you get in my way.”
Kwang held his position.
“Step aside.”
I’d only seen the feet, but knew that stumble from Kwang meant his brother had shoved him. I braced, waiting for the rod to come down. Worse, he pulled me back on me feet, holding me there until my knees didn’t immediately collapse, and yanked my arm out again. It felt like an earthquake in my body, having to watch as he raised the bamboo to strike me again. The moment he started to bring it down, I flinched.
The strike never landed.
My eyes flashed open at the sound of two growling tigers. Lord Kwan held his brother’s wrist, preventing the strike. Both of their jaws locked in place as they leered each other down, anger visible in each of their eyes.
“If there is a problem with my servant,” said Lord Kwan, “I will handle it.”
Beom scoffed. “Your lax attitude is why your servants cause problems. It’s a blatant affront to the family, allowing them to do as they like without consequence.”
Lord Kwan threw aside his brother’s arm, never looking away.
Juro had returned with him, and came to me to comfort. One arm around me, and I was too frozen with fright to register it. “Were you in my house, I would never allow a single strike to you. Not for any reason.” His other hand took in my arm, drawing back the sleeve to reveal a welt and a generous amount of red and swelling surrounding it. “Does it hurt to move it?”
I didn’t comprehend a word of what he was saying or trying to do. I turned my head to look at him, and my face fell to cry.
“You’ve caused enough of a scene at my house,” said Lord Kwan. “The girl is mine to deal with. Until her debt is labored off, she is mine. Not yours. You will address your anger at me with me. Not take it out on my staff.”
“If I’d done so sooner,” said Beom. “When you declared your love for a demon, our sisters would still be alive.”
Lord Kwan said nothing, standing his ground until Beom gave in and walked away first.
“Hisa,” called Lord Kwan, soft in his tone but with a lingering anger. “You will come with me. Lord Juro, Lord Kwang, you are missing the feast.”
“Lord Kwan,” said Juro, “surely you...” his words faded. When I looked up, I understood why. Lord Kwan’s gaze, from over his shoulder, was a warning.
Kwang walked to him, meek in his attempt to apologize and met with the same icy look. He silenced and stepped back.
“Hisa,” called Lord Kwan, keeping his voice low.
I got myself steady on my feet, taking small steps to follow behind.
“Clean up your face,” said Lord Kwan. Without thought or hesitation, I obeyed, and concentrated on my breathing to keep from further weeping.
He led me around the house, far from the sight of the guests, and into his room. I cradled my injured arm, trying to protect it against invisible threats; he closed the doors behind me.
“Let me see,” said Lord Kwan, his voice becoming softer.
I looked at him, for any hint of rage. When I saw only sadness, I held it up to him. One hand took my wrist, the other sliding down my sleeve and brushing over my skin. I winced at the touch, cool as it felt against my hot injury.
“I’m sorry he did this to you,” said Lord Kwan, sounding like a broken man. “It should never have happened.”
I was still in shock, and said nothing. Even as he used his magic to heal me, I just stared. My mind was blank.
After his spell ended, he cast another to banish the stains and smell from me. Then he stumbled, catching himself on the table. With a gasp, went to him.
“I’m alright.” His words were quiet. A part of my gut knew he was lying, though the rest of me wasn’t able to comprehend.
I wanted to say something, to be some kind of useful. But I didn’t have anything intelligent to say. “I’m,” I tried anyway. “I’m glad. That you’re the Juneun who lives on this mountain.”
He shifted his gaze to me, his face puzzled.
“I’m not sure we’d all survive, us villagers, if it was someone else here.” Thoughtless, I hugged him. As I’d hugged my brothers, hugged Fumei—a deep embrace for comfort.
He returned it, lightly.
We stayed like that a moment, taking in each other’s comfort.
“I’m sorry I’m such a troublesome prisoner.”
“You make up for it.”
We let go of each other, leaving me to look up and wonder.
“How?”
That hint of a smile was back. “Being an honest friend.”
I shied. “Even though I keep messing up your fancy party thing?”
“With or without you, mistakes would be made. And Beom has made affronts on several of my house since he arrived. Given that, I can’t even be annoyed at Syaoran’s disappearance.”
There were a hundred things I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask why Beom acted so hostile while Kwang more pleasant, and why the brothers didn’t get along. Why was Eumeh engaged to Urekkato after we’d all thought it was his own engagement we were preparing for? I wanted to know about Gumiho, if she really was gone—she seemed like a force that was always there and always would be. Then there was what Beom said about Kwan’s love for a demon, and what that’d meant. About what was so import with holding court, and why there were so many rules, and so many other things.
It didn’t feel right in the moment to ask any of it, especially not after what just happened.
“You moved yourself back to the kennels,” said Lord Kwan, breaking the quiet that took up the room. “You dislike your room?”
“It’s not that, my lord. I’m just not,” I tried to think of how to explain. “It’s a lot noisier with so many guests. I’m not used to it.”
“Noisier? That’s an understatement.”
I tucked my head into my shoulders, watching that hint of a smile grow. “The feast,” I realized. “I dragged you away from it.”
“I’m sure excuses have been made for me. It will start and end at Urekkato’s discretion at any rate.”
Despite what he’d said, I still felt guilty. There were probably more interesting people to talk to at a banquet than a village girl.
We sat there, side by side, saying nothing at all. And I liked it.
****
Late into the night, as the guests retired to their rooms and the household cleaned up, I crept back to the kennels for sleep. The note I’d left was gone, but the jacket remained, sitting atop my blanket, both still perfectly folded. Another thing about the strangeness of this summer I didn’t understand.
I was too tired to think much of it. But laying down, my mind wouldn’t let me sleep. A part of me was still too afraid. That somehow another lord or servant of would spring from a shadow to further torment me. Only mild relief came in remembering that court wouldn’t last forever. Just a few days more.
Then came the temptation of taking out that puzzle box. I shut my eyes, counting, and took it from its hiding place once I opened them again. Sliding the tiles back to their cryptic phrase, I carefully opened it beneath my covers. The glow of the bead soothed me.
Picking it up, it felt warm. A comforting kind. The sort when a parent took your hand as a small child, or when a friend embraced you with love. It felt happy at my touch. I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but it seemed that way. Feeling flowed into me, as though the bead of light knew me.
While I basked in the glow and the comfort of it, I closed my eyes to count, frequently. When I did grow tired enough, I put it away.