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The winter solstice was almost here, and the house was in frenzied excitement for it, despite not having Juro’s favor and gifts of fresh fruit. Uno appeared the happiest that I’d seen her, reminding me a little of Fumei.
It was a poorer celebration than last year, with all that’d happened, though it didn’t dampen anyone’s merriment. During which, Kwan brough up a flute to entertain with. While I was enchanted by it, Syaoran teased that he was out of practice with the instrument. He took the criticism in stride, admitting that it’d been some twenty years or more since he played it.
When I objected, and the attention went on to me, Kwan said I ought to sing. To that, I refused with a deep flushed face. He’d said I’d sang prettily, though all I could do was compare how other girls in my village had more beautiful voices. I did get persuaded to do it anyway, met with quiet applause and approval after—more for the politeness in my effort than from sincere enjoyment.
On my birthday, Syaoran waited for my usual trek to the shrine, presenting me with a small, gold coin. “I told you, gold is the last one given, since you’re not a child anymore by human standards.”
“Isn’t there something you’d rather spend it on?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not really. I don’t go out into the world too often, and I don’t have family that needs it.”
I felt torn. I knew I should give the coin to prayer, thanking the gods for everything I’d been blessed with—things that, five years ago, I didn’t think would be possible. But I also greedily wanted to keep it.
“What’s wrong?” asked Syaoran.
“I was just thinking,” I said. “But I wouldn’t know where to send a missive to get things like new fabric and thread.”
“Oh, just ask Kwan,” said Syaoran. “I doubt he’ll tell you no.”
I shook my head. “I wanted it so that I could bring them back to my village to make things for my family. And for my friend who’s looked after them in my stead. I don’t want him to worry that I’m not coming back—I am coming back.”
Syaoran grinned. “Hisa’s being sneaky.”
“It’s not sneaky!”
He laughed. “The snow is too deep now to send for anything. I’ll show you when things have thawed enough.”
“You will?”
“If you’re going to stay, you should know these things. Now go take your gold to the shrine, and don’t worry about the rest.”
“But won’t I need—?”
He waved off. “I’ll show you come spring.”
I thanked him, sharing a hug and hurrying off to fetch Koji and go to the shrine. I knew exactly what to pray on. Not only to thank the heavens for how my life turned around so fast, but to wish for something important. I wanted a long and happy marriage. It would be the first time in years I wished for something purely for myself at a shrine.
Kwan was already there in prayer; part of me wondered what he’d wished, if it was something dire or something happy. He always looked so serious when praying.
He waited for me, though didn’t ask this time what I’d wished for. Instead, we kept in company of each other, walking all the cleared paths around the villa. I’d let Koji loose, watching him bound through snow and half bury himself with excitement.
The hours went by. I’d hardly noticed the cold air.
Kwan laid his hands on my shoulders, stroking slowly down my arms as he kissed the back of my head and whispered. “Let’s go inside.”
Which I knew to mean he also wanted us to go into bed. It wasn’t so regular a thing, and on the occasion that I refused, he didn’t persist. Though, I’d only refused once. In a strange way, I knew him a little better, learning what it is he liked, and both of us making slow discoveries of what I liked.
In our room, he led me to my bed, eager. Not for undressing, but for something set atop. The reason he hadn’t asked my wish. A dress, similarly styled to what Juro had insisted on me, in dark orange, soft gold, and deep peach colors. Printed along every hem were peonies, vibrantly colored to stand out. All of it heavy, and suited to hold warmth in deep winter. No tigers hidden in the threading, nor his house colors tied on it.
“But—”
He stopped my objection with a light kiss to my cheek. “Can I not spoil the woman I love, and who loves me in turn, with one gift?” He wrapped his arms around me, swaying us.
I shied. “It looks so expensive, I’m afraid to even touch it.”
Slow, he took my hand to place on the garment, guiding my fingers over the soft material and grab.
“I don’t have anything to give you,” I said, losing my will to argue while a ball of guilt sat in my stomach.
“You don’t have to.”
“Kwan,” I scolded.
“Hisa,” said Kwan.
I huffed. “Then... let me make something for your birthday.”
He smiled, a little wider than I’d yet seen. “Oh?”
“Then I can’t feel guilty for accepting.”
He studied me, holding his expression. “If you like.”
My face grew a wide smile. “Your birthday is in early spring,” I said, standing. I started to shed my deel in the warmer house, walking to change. “I remember there was a bolt of dark-blue cloth that’d look handsome. It’s not much, but maybe I can—”
He swiped me up to drop on the bed. I squeaked in surprise. From there, he looked into my eyes, his expression still pleasant, as his fingers traced over my exposed torso. A way of asking. I shyly tucked in, still smiling, and shook my head. He responded with several kisses to the ticklish spot on my neck, seeing if I was sure.
I giggled uncontrollably. “Not yet!”
He stopped, meeting my gaze again. “I love you, Hisa.”
“I love you.” To think of how difficult those words were almost half a year before, and how easily they came now, it made me laugh.
He’d loved me for some time as well. If I’d confessed sooner, how much happier I’d have been. How much trouble and heartbreak I could’ve avoided if I were braver back then.
I did bring him to my bed later in the evening. Most of our time spent in gentle caresses and slow kisses. He was never in a rush, which gave me ample time to think of what I wanted to do to play back, or if I wanted to simply mirror his touches.
There came a point where he scooted back, propping himself up on his elbow, and pulled off the covers in a wordless watch. When he’d done nothing after, my nerves got the better of me. Enough to blurt out and shy away.
“What?”
“I’m just looking at you,” said Kwan, soft. The backs of his fingers glided up and down my exposed side, both of us bathed in a contrast of cold moon light and warm lamplight.
The scars along my hands and arms, from various cuts and other injury of village life, seemed more prominent then, as did the pox scars that speckled my body. I was still embarrassed of them, how ugly they looked compared to the less worked hands of a Juneun woman, and tried to hide them without noticed.
He caught the attempt, stopping his rhythmic strokes to take one and place his lips in my palm, eyes looking into mine. A kiss to the back of my hand, another to my wrist, and down my arm, tender and slow. I saw the faint line of a scar across his cheekbone, my hand reaching to cup his face. There, my thumb stroked along its length. His body bore more, though all of them difficult to see unless you already knew, and even then.
“Do you think I’m ugly?” asked Kwan.
I shook my head with a laughing smile. “No.”
He leaned over me. “Then stop trying to hide yourself.”
****
I wasn’t sore in the morning. A little numb, but nothing like I’d been afraid of since my first time. It felt all at once strange yet natural to wake up beside Kwan. Despite that, I still wasn’t used to Uno coming to attend me, or the horrible morning remedy. I was glad for her help, since the remedy often made me nauseous, sometimes to the point of losing appetite, and slowed me down from any routine.
Her mood from the solstice carried over, making it impossible not to share a similar joy. Especially when she hummed a tune I wasn’t familiar with.
“You’ve been humming more,” I said, infected by her happy state.
She paused, flashing a sheepish smile before continuing with my hair. “I was able to write to my sister about my elevation.”
“Elevation?”
“Mm-hm. Originally, I thought I would only be here one year to groom a relative of Lord Kwan for her debut. As an attendant for a special guest, my station was the same. Now, I’m staying on to attend Lord Kwan’s consort.”
“Consort?” I repeated again. I’d heard the word, but never in full context to understand.
“Concubine,” said Uno.
I turned, still not comprehending. I knew the word from stories, but it didn’t feel like it fit our relationship.
Uno stared, puzzled. “His mistress.”
I paled, blinking at her.
She deepened her expression. “Is that not...?”
We stared at each other.
“I thought...” stumbled Uno. “You’re not wed. And, you share the floor. And I bring you a morning remedy sometimes. I thought—is it not the case?”
I stared longer, in silent denial of the evidence. Uno gave a hasty bow, dismissing herself in the growing discomfort.
It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. But, if it wasn’t so, then why hadn’t Kwan made a proposal? I’d been so caught up in my feelings that I’d assumed the best outcome. What if that wasn’t the case? Kwan never specified to anyone what our relationship was. He’d only said he was in love with me.
Before I knew it, I was walking the veranda in a haze. Mist clouded the ground this early in the day, and I’d walked off without my deel to keep warm. Not that I was bothered by the winter air, the haunting realization of things took all notice away from how cold it was outside. Other girls talked about how becoming a mistress was as high as they could hope for. But I wanted for more, even if he didn’t have a bronze coin to his name, I wanted to be more than that.
My feet carried me to the shrine, ignoring the icy bite of the path.
How? Why? I’d given a gold piece for my wish. For the one thing I wanted purely for myself, I gave the richest thing I ever held. I stood there, lost in my despair. How was I supposed to explain to my father and brothers that I planned to return to take up as mistress—or say anything at all?
I didn’t know how long I’d stood there, numb. Nor did I notice Kwan’s approach until he laid his hands on my arms.
“Let’s go inside,” whispered Kwan, about to kiss behind my ear.
I tore myself away, putting distance between us and scowling. “Is that all I am?”
He said nothing, slow blinking and puzzled.
“Did you only want me to be your mistress?” I felt my throat tighten as my voice began to break.
He studied me with a sullen expression. “No.”
“Then tell me what I am to you! If you won’t marry me...” It took every ounce of my strength to look dignified and not cry.
Taking his time, he extended his hand in an offer for me to accept. A peace gesture. I refused it.
“There’s something I need to show you, Hisa.”
I stayed rooted where I was.
“I will explain everything there. And put every doubt you might have to rest.”
I didn’t move.
“I promise.” He stayed put. Perfectly statuesque as the mist gave way to new, silent, snowfall.
There was a pleading in his eyes—that part of him that was locked away trying to reach out—which convinced me to accept.
“Your hands are cold,” said Kwan, low and hinting concern. He unfastened his sash, slipping off his coat to drape over me. In doing so, he noticed my lack in shoes. “You’ll catch your death at this rate.” He gestured to the black pine, waving his hand at a branch hanging over us. The needles dropping and forming a pair of fine, green slippers.
I didn’t realize how cold my feet were until I stepped in each shoe, feeling the softness and something resembling warmth.
“Come,” coaxed Kwan, gently toting me along.
We went to the stables, and saddled Saburo. Kwan climbed on first, extending his arm and helping me to sit in the same fashion Syaoran had made me. I felt magic almost the moment we were out of the shelter. A flurry of wind and snow blinding me, I tried to keep my eyes open, to see how the spell worked as we left the gates, catching a glimpse of the same white doe, stopping in her tracks to look up. More magic turned my stomach over as we galloped.
When we slowed, and I felt the magic fade from around us, I opened my eyes. We were in a forest. One that appeared similar but different to what I’d known on Mount Tora. As I orientated myself better, I knew it had to be a different forest.
“Where are we?”
“My family’s ancestral lands,” said Kwan, patient in his tone.
I sucked in a sharp gasp. “Is it okay for us to be here?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I just meant...” My voice trailed.
“Because we don’t get along too well?” said Kwan. “It is still my birthright to return here as I please. My brothers might bar me from their lands, but my ties to here are not severed by disagreement.”
Saburo plowed on through the deep snow, snorting with proud power in every stride. The trees held more crisp, white ice, like a tower of laundry baskets piled with cleaned linen. The world around us slumbered soundlessly. My breath steamed, catching sunlight. I pulled the coat closer around me, suddenly reminded.
“Aren’t you cold?”
He showed a soft smile. “I will be fine.”
That wasn’t a real answer. Pressing against him, I put the coat to reach around both of us, the best I could manage, and held tight to the end of each sleeve. For the effort, his smile grew a little.
A cave waited ahead, untouched by winter. Moss lay at its entrance, and a warmth hung in the air.
“This is...”
Kwan dismounted, helping me down. “The entrance to the Well of Oaths.” He took my hand, leading me inside.
Not far in, I heard the rhythmic dripping of water. While dark, I could still see a bit of the things around us. “Why did you want me here?”
He said nothing until we came to a large stone, its center carved out like a bowl where the drips collected. “I entrusted you with my soul.”
At his words, I quickly closed my eyes and counted, making sure to keep Urekkato out.
“I wanted to explain to you my reasons for taking it out in the first place.”
“So that Gumiho wouldn’t steal it,” I said.
He looked at me, forcing on his hint of a smile while his eyes seemed melancholic. “That’s one reason.” He breathed in, readying his next set of words. No more secrets. “I loved her. Once.”
I froze, shocked by what he’d said. For as long as I’d known, Kwan and Gumiho were eternal enemies. They’d always hated each other. “I...”
“You’re surprised,” said Kwan. “Most of the lords among Juneun knew my attachment. The girl that is Gumiho was a different person to the fox queen now. We were wildly in love. Reckless. I used to sneak out of Tetsuden to be with her.”
It broke my heart, hearing him speak so fondly. I knew he’d probably had lovers in the past, or maybe fallen for someone. But it still hurt to hear it from him.
“I ignored anyone who tried to tell me I couldn’t be with her. That it was a dangerous thing. I tried to be too much like my grandfather, too much like my master. And when others tormented her, I brought her here to make a vow.”
“A vow?” I held my breath. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear him say that he’d married her. That he couldn’t marry me because of it. I wanted to run. But my feet stayed glued to this spot.
“The reason I allowed everyone to think that I, alone, had some power to go against her. I vowed that I would protect her from all of them. Not one would take a blade to her without mine intercepting it. And when she was no longer the girl I loved, I realized, to my horror, the mistake I’d made.”
I blinked, unbelieving. “But, then—”
“In my vow, I said I would protect her from them. Not myself. I feared that I might be forced to turn my hand against my kin, and went after her on my own. It was the only way I could be sure not to add more in bloodshed. I don’t know if she’s dead after this last confrontation, or still out there.”
“Kwan...” I breathed out his name, hardly able to bear the heartache in his voice.
He scooped some of the water in one hand. “Maybe I’m still reckless. Centuries later.” He turned his eye to me. “In wanting to make a vow to the woman I now love with all my heart. Who carries my soul.”
“You don’t have to,” I said, hastily.
He watched me a while. The water dripping on unhindered.
“I vow that I love you, Hisa. And, if you’ll accept, I will make you my wife. Never a mistress. Or anything less.” He drank what was in his palm before I could object, or say that this was proof enough.
I didn’t know what sort of magic would bind him to that oath, or if there was any at all. It was the sheer audacity that he’d made such a big performance, so out of his character, that convinced me.
He held a soft, expecting smile. “Now, there’s no reason to doubt again.” In two short steps, he stood over me, cupping my chin and resting his forehead on mine, our noses brushing against each other. “No more tears.”
I echoed the sentiment. “But, then, why haven’t you made a proposal?”
He lifted his head from me, meeting my eye. “I cannot make a proper proposal until you are fully free to decline. By all accounts, I shouldn’t have confessed my feelings to you yet, or taken you into my bed.”
“But I’d felt the same way,” I said. “And more than once I’d taken you into my bed. Isn’t that enough to make both of us fully free?”
He gave a single shake of his head. “Not from a righteous stance.”
I breathed in deep and sighed. Deciding how to argue.
“Will you accept this as an informal proposal?”
“Of course I will,” I said, happily, and reached up to bring him into a kiss.
Holding me, I felt light enough to fly. Grounding again only when we ended the embrace.
“Do I need to make a vow?”
“No,” said Kwan. “It is not required.”
He started to lead us away, and I stopped. My thoughts and feelings tangled in each other. I wanted to make a gesture of my own. Some bold statement of my fidelity. So I stepped to the well. Scooping out a measly handful, I tried to temper the storm inside me to come up with what to promise.
“I vow that I will love you, Kwan. And that I will never again doubt your affection or your heart.”