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“How can you stay so calm when my Hisa is out there?” demanded Juro.
Kwan blew gently over his cup of tea.
“I should be out with the search.”
“Syaoran is with her,” said Kwan, feeling he’d made Juro wait too long for a response this time. “I’m sure there’s no real danger.”
Juro growled. “He’s going to get his fox smell all over my Hisa.”
Again, Kwan let a long silence sit over them. “Your Hisa?”
“Have you not been listening? My bride is in the wilds with a man known for—”
“I was simply wondering when she became your Hisa.” Kwan sipped at his tea, making Juro wait and consider. “She cannot agree to become your bride while under sentencing.”
Juro scoffed. “A formality!”
Kwan stared, as he typically did, concealing his own distress. “If they are somehow separated or in need, my house guard will find them. I have every faith.”
Juro grumbled. “More men rubbing their scent on her. That best be the only thing—how do we know one of your house guards won’t take advantage of her state? Rob me of my wedding rite...”
Breathing in, slow and controlled, Kwan watched the irritation consumed his friend. “Are you saying my selected household would wrong you? Or that I have by sending them?”
Juro scoffed, waving away the notion as Kwan refilled their cups. “I should be out there.”
“What are we to do if Hisa returns and you are lost in the mountain?”
“You give me little credit. But I see your point.”
“You do,” said Kwan.
****
The same couldn’t be said of himself. His own concern consumed him.
In the night, he cast his spell of sight, searching the mountain. Where was she? Not beside the villages. Nor the peach grove, or the lake. Where? His fingers fidgeted tapped on his table, his other hand half folded and holding up his chin. Where was she? If he couldn’t spot her, how did he expect anyone else to find her.
“Syaoran,” growled Kwan, low and impatient.
He’d never taken this long with the spell. If need be, he’d search every inch of the mountain. A hint of something caught his attention. Feint, but he saw the silhouette of Syaoran’s stallion laying down to rest.
It was a start. His sword came to his palm at a gesture. Door opened, he used his spell for speed to leave unnoticed—as much as he could, leaving a wind in the wake of his initial step.
At the pagoda, he caught the smell of fire from the furnace, burning low. When his bare feet touched the cold floor of the pagoda, he raised a brow. Considering the neglect of the place, it wasn’t too surprising, though it caused some anxiety to him. The door slid, whispering a complaint. It didn’t take long for him to spot the bedding piled high. The fire-pit stove, still lit, illuminated the space in orange and yellow.
He would only look. Just to see that she was alright. And he would go home.
Koji looked up, wagging his tail but remaining silent.
Spotting Syaoran cuddled with her, his brow turned sharp. He wanted to tear off the covers, to be furious with his friend. In catching his thoughts, he stopped before he could reach. Likewise, he stopped his lungs from drawing too deep a breath too quickly, lest he wake them. It was cold. Of course they would share a bed. But it didn’t prevent the suggestion of something more between them.
He stared. It shouldn’t bother him. Some of the women in his staff often snuck into Syaoran’s room. What difference did this make? Because she was human? Because she was his friend? That he was fond of her...? Too fond perhaps. But if she loved him, was it right for him to stay too fond? The hare and the fox were better suited than a hare with a tiger.
He shut his eyes, ridding himself of the thought, opening again when he heard Hisa’s whimper.
Her brow was damp. He placed his fingertips on her forehead, light. A fever, and shivers. He noticed then that Syaoran’s sleeve was missing. What’d happened? His fingers traced down, searching for the source. Her elbow. At once, he began his spell, stopping before completing. Was it wise? It’d give away that he was here. And if there was something more than friendship between her and Syaoran, would this ruin their privacy to it?
His hand started to pull away, stopped by the insistence of his heart. He couldn’t ignore it. Only enough to lessen the pain, and avoid permanent damage. Even so, she winced slightly. Her toes stuck out. Something he thought odd. With the cold of an autumn night in the mountain, why would her feet be bare? He made to gently slid it back under the covers, touching fabric. Curious, he peeked.
Syaoran!
He was supposed to protect her. What happened? Again, he reined himself from his anger. The intensity of it was unbefitting. Still, he couldn’t bear to do nothing about it. Her words rang back into his mind.
Didn’t you also fuss over me when I was unwell?
He did fuss. And he couldn’t explain why. His spell helped hasten the healing, but left enough alone to not appear obvious. A part of him wanted to wake her, to carry her home.
He stood, stepping away in silence. The grounds around the pagoda, once lovely and tranquil, now deteriorating. He walked the perimeter of it, lost in memories. Stopping, he breathed, looking past the tree tops to the stars. A glance back inside gave bittersweet thoughts. He’d restore this place for her, if she liked it, where she could be with the man she loves in peace.
And he would miss her.
****
When he heard of their arrival at the gates, it took restraint to not rush to her. She would still be hurt, and likely hungry. Upon seeing her tattered state—arm in a sling, sandals missing, hair unruly, and dress dirty and pinched with snags—he wanted to sweep her up, to make everything right.
But if she loved someone else, it wouldn’t be appropriate. Regardless of Juro’s presence, he wouldn’t insult Syaoran if she loved him.
It wasn’t until she bowed that he realized he’d been standing there a while, and noticed most of his household out with them.
The awkwardness in himself didn’t vanish once they were in his room either. Not until her sharp, little breath tickled at his face. On her own accord, she brought him out of his melancholy. A gladness prickled in his heart. Pain, but a good kind of pain. He brushed his face against hers, reveling in the touch.
Warm. And a little cold from autumn’s air. Their lips only a hair apart, it took his full restraint. He’d already made a mistake in mentioning her other injury.
“How did you know about that?”
His mind fast fetched an answer.
“Sometimes I forget you’re a Juneun.”
The notion amused him. “Do you?”
“When I look at you, all I see is... Well, you.”
He began to understand, when she’d said it, that he didn’t want her to become someone else’s little rabbit, someone else’s magpie in their garden, someone else’s Hisa. But what could he do? He couldn’t force the situation—not happily.
Their banter went on, with Kwan amused and hurt by it.
“But it’s different with you. I know that you’re not trying to buy my affection.”
There was truth in that. And he was proud to know she understood why Juro behaved as such. She wasn’t empty headed to believe there was no motive. But he wanted some way to make himself useful to her, or give her something to please her. “Hisa. Name one thing I can do. One thing I can give. So that my conscience is clear.”
“A kiss,” whispered Hisa.
His mind went blank, his heart missing its rhythm. He stared into her dark-brown eyes, and the thick, black lashes that surrounded them. “A kiss?”
Whatever she rambled about after, he didn’t hear. The whole of the world fell deaf. Lips warm, nose cold, breath sweet. He’d lived long enough to kiss a number of women; some he did through affection, and others for the sheer pleasure. And few had enticed him to want to overstep. The sides of himself competed for what he ought to do, and restraint was needed.
He delighted in her playing back, letting him chase her in a blind and wordless game. He never needed to explain to her. She picked up on his cues, and was curious enough to follow through. Sparks ran through him. Not the sort for warfare. They celebrated in his touch of joy, in the softness she dealt, and in the clumsiness that reminded him she wasn’t a courtly lady. She was Hisa. His perfectly imperfect, human, Hisa.
The thought caused him to stop.
Not his. Not unless she wanted. Confusion coursed through him. What he’d assumed before, and now, when she wanted for a kiss—what were her feelings?
They stared into each other’s eyes. For how long, he didn’t know. He used the time, waiting for her response, to come up with something himself.
“I will kiss you anytime you ask, Hisa,” said Kwan. “That will be my atonement.” The words were noble, but not what he wanted to say.
Hisa’s face changed. Her eyes narrowing only just, and her brow pressed. She was about to object to something he’d said. Perhaps to say not to, or to accuse him of teasing. No matter the reason, he found a way to stop it. He remembered then what she’s told him nearly more than two years prior. That a kiss shouldn’t be coerced. And her previous rambling caught up to him as well.
“I want to.”
He dragged the tops of his fingernails along her jaw, light in his touch, gliding to her cheek to stroke his thumb against her skin. She shied away.
Kwan quirked a brow, remembering then that that cheek held her scar.
“Hisa,” whispered Kwan, stopping himself. It would only make things complicated for her if he spoke on newly realized feelings. “Look at me.”
She swallowed, eyes flicking upward while her chin stayed tucked.
“Don’t feel ashamed.” He brushed her hair off her face, gently placing it behind her ear.
They stared into each other a while. Until a hint of awkwardness prodded her to drop her gaze and break the stillness.
“I’m sorry I ruined the dress you gave me.”
He flashed a small smile, amused by her repeated apology. “I have something for that.” He stood, walking the short distance to fetch the few items. “Do you remember, when we rode to the lake, how you described what sort of things you’d sew when you improved your skill?”
She tensed, her cheeks pinking. “Did you ask about it to trick me?”
Kwan shrugged. “If you don’t like it, you don’t need to keep it.”
He handed them over, a stack on her lap and nervousness on her face—which twisted into confusion, and quickly shifted into recognition. Kwan tilted his head, awaiting her verdict.
“I can’t repay this.”
He scoffed, humored, and raised a hand to stop anymore objections. “Consider it an advanced payment. So, when your skill improves, you will sew up a sunflower one for me.”
She raised a brow, flashing a sly smile. “You’d wear one patterned in flowers?”
“If you made it.”
She smiled, hiding her bottom lip in her mouth and turning her gaze while her head slowly tucked itself into her shoulders.
“How did you like the pagoda?”
He realized his mistake when she answered with a quizzical look. “How did you know about the pagoda?”
He kept himself still, mind searching for an excuse.
“Gi told you?”
Wordless, Kwan allowed the assumption to hang. “Did you like it?”
“It was...”
His own expression faltered. She didn’t like it.
“I think it must’ve been beautiful. But abandoned and in autumn, it seemed sad. I would’ve liked to have seen what it looked like before.”
His smile started to reform.
“Why did you abandon it?”
To that, Kwan dropped his gaze. “I got obsessed in other pursuits, and too busy with the rest.”
“Because of Gumiho?”
“Among other things.”
She rocked side to side, her mind actively at work on how to word something. “Do you think you’ll go there again, now that she’s gone?”
He watched her expression. She wanted to see it restored. “Perhaps.”
“Would you take me to see it? I did say I’d visit after I was free to go home.”
“If it’s convenient.”
****
He ordered her rest. Juro insisted on being with her, complaining when Kwan prevented him.
“There is no need for you to linger,” said Kwan. “I will attend her personally. You may return home to your lands as planned. Before winter sets in.”
Juro complained, though Kwan didn’t listen. Instead, he stared, stone faced and unblinking. Keeping still, he waited for the silence to pressure Juro’s compliance.
“I suppose there is still Mokryon. Lord Genji did specify to bring your attendants, if I recall.”
There was a separate worry. He had winter to figure it out. And he had winter to plan a renovation. A project to bring out that beaming smile from her.
Laying in bed, Kwan stared at the ceiling. Sleep eluded him. Too many thoughts of what he needed to do plagued him. It wouldn’t be a restful winter. More, in his anxiousness, he’d neglected to choose which girl would act as tutor and attendant.
It didn’t matter so much about family ties or beauty or the usuals. What mattered is that Hisa wouldn’t need to feel so insecure and hide away. Genji wanted that. And, he, himself, wanted that.
****
Two days after, he saw Juro off. In relaying that Syaoran would be his personal attendant for Mokryon, both former Kurai looked shocked. Protests began, amusing Kwan. He said nothing more of it. There wasn’t a need to expose Hisa as his second attendant. In this way, he could bide time until coming up with a better strategy to ensure her safety and happiness.
However, should Syaoran learn the truth, it might make him and Hisa happy. Then came the decision of how the sleeping arrangements ought to be made. He’d already put her in a predicament before, and it’d be a lie to say his own jealousy didn’t play a part in thinking about it.
He pondered on it over the week following his friend’s departure. Still having no pick for the task, and winter fast approaching, he’d need to send a missive. Thinking back on each of them, measuring their reactions to Juro and Syaoran, and their actions taken in the night they stayed, he might be better off starting over.
In the morning, he told himself. Maybe it was impractical. But he’d take the chance.
In his room, pouring a cup of peach wine that evening, he hoped to put the troubles of the last few days behind him.
Barking.
Kwan sighed. She’d brought Koji into her room again. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. As master of the house, he’d need to correct the issue.
He’d taken his time, rather than rush in to scold as his brothers might do. She burdened herself enough with stern words in a leveled tone. There wasn’t a need to escalate.
The calm of him fled when he opened her door, unannounced. He’d barely gotten a word out when he saw the puzzle box in her hands. Weighted heartbeats echoed in his chest.
“Where did you get that?” demanded Kwan, aghast.
“I—” started Hisa, disrupted by her dog.
Kwan went to her, swift in his step, and took it from her grasp. “Do you know what you could have done‽”
She retreated into herself, hiding behind her arms and hands, eyes wide.
“This is not a toy!”
“It was just abandoned in the kennels,” blurted Hisa. “I didn’t think—”
His arm shot out, palm hitting the wall behind her as he leaned in, brow sharp and voice sharper. “You could have put the entire mountain in danger! You could’ve put everyone in danger! If this fell into the wrong hands—”
“I didn’t know!” cried Hisa.
She trembled, eyes tightly closed. A pitiful sight, reminiscent of the morning she arrived. He realized then how close he was, towering over her, and that his voice had taken on a tiger’s growl. He tried to temper himself.
“Why did you take this?”
“I just,” she shook violently, forcing herself to look at him with tear-filled eyes. “I like looking at the bead inside. That’s all—”
“You opened it?” the growl in his tone returned. “Stupid girl! You don’t realize how—”
She ran. Bolting out the door as quick as her legs would carry her.
Kwan took a step to pursue, stopping when the haunting image of her fearful face kept flashing in his sight. Breathing labored, he continued his restraint. Of course she didn’t know. How could she? Any time his brothers arrived unannounced, hounds in tow, he allowed it for one reason: the kennels. He could think of no better place, where the smell would deter a sensitive fox nose, should Gumiho ever be bold enough to sneak in. Syaoran, a lesser fox, always confirmed the stench lingered with his every complaint.
What he didn’t take into account was ever having a human prisoner, and the chance they’d be placed in that particular kennel.
If she ran all the way to her village, he wouldn’t blame her. He’d come close to striking at her, and didn’t have the good sense to not be in control of himself as an excuse. No. No excuses. His heart felt a dozen needles pressing in at the thought. If he’d hurt her...
For now, they both needed the separation, to regain themselves. He stared down at the puzzle box. He could feel it in there.
****
Hours passed, and no sign of Hisa in the estate. Maybe she did run back to her village. Kwan walked the veranda, the puzzle box tucked safely under his shirt layers. His breath still calming, he couldn’t clear his head of things. Most of all, the guilt pressing down on him. What would he do, if his palm touched her, rather than the wall?
There were things to explain. He at least owed her that much. Justified or not, his anger shouldn’t have ruled his actions, as it had too often.
“Syaoran,” called Kwan.
Syaoran stopped in the midst of closing his door.
“When Hisa turns up, bring her to my room.” He continued his own stride, never pausing.
“I’ll let her know,” said Syaoran.
“Syaoran. Bring her. Right away.”
Once in his room, Kwan sat at his table, facing the doors, and waited.
He’d nodded off at some point, staying perfectly seated, and woke to the sound of birds welcoming the dawn.
Eyes slow to open, his vision blurred and cleared over several seconds.
She didn’t come back.
The slow flick of something grabbed his attention. A butterfly, this late into the year, sat on the brim of his tea cup. Alone, thought Kwan. He watched it, detecting a second one after a long while, and waited for it to reveal itself from behind the cup. A pair. He watched them, unable to nod off again as hours crept by.
“Lord Kwan?” Syaoran’s voice. Likely to say that Hisa was still missing, and convince him of a search party.
Don’t bother, he thought. Let her go.
His doors opened, showing only Syaoran in the frame.
“You are up,” said Syaoran.
Kwan said nothing, staring right ahead.
“I couldn’t sleep so, I thought...” Syaoran’s words trailed. “Hisa wasn’t on the estate.”
Of course not.
“So, I had an idea, and let Koji out. He led me straight to her.”
Kwan shifted his silent gaze, looking at Syaoran.
“Well, not straight to her,” said Syaoran. “He chased a lot of things in the dark, and picked a fight with a young boar. Then he barked down a bear hole before—”
“She’s here?”
Syaoran blinked, weary, and tried to read Kwan’s face. “Yes, my lord.”
Kwan sat there, exhausted, and anxious, saying nothing for a while. “Send her in.”
A troubled look marred Syaoran’s face. Perhaps he did love her. The irony of it—a fox spirit, and an ordinary human. “Yes, my lord.” His words were quiet, hesitation in them.
Hisa came into frame, appearing cold and tired. The hanbok he’d given her coated in wilderness, and her newly grown out hair in disarray.
“Close the doors,” said Kwan, low and even. When she obeyed, and made to close the inner doors, he brough out the puzzle box. Setting it on the table, he thought how he ought to begin.