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It’d gone better than Kwan could hope. While they’d found Zhen at the start of scandalous intimacy with a servant, it was quickly forgotten with Yeona’s appearance. Enchanted by prettiness, amused by her forwardness, and intrigued by her dowry and sheltered upbringing, the high lord was hers before the end of a half-hour.
A formal announcement would take place the following night, after Zhen’s part of the bargain was paid.
Relief in his heart, he went back to his room. He wanted to tell Hisa everything, to see her approve of his ordeal. His sensibility reminded him that her perspective of it might not align with how his society would see things. But he had to tell her something—to share some good news with her.
In their room, he was glad that he wouldn’t need to search the grounds to find her. And, in seeing her, a forceful happiness compelled his actions.
She scolded his name.
He growled hers back.
She’d said something, though he didn’t catch it, eager to share in this feeling of elation with her. He’d stopped thinking all together, acting on every impulse until he felt her push on him. Hardly noticeable, but enough to get his attention.
“What is this about?”
Kwan explained—or tried to. His mind occupied with a previous set of wants. When she objected to his advance, he gathered his thoughts, stringing together some semblance of sensible words to give her.
“I never want you to worry, or fear me. Nor do I want to see you hurt.” He leaned in, stopping short and waiting for her cue. He could taste her breath, feel how close he was to her, smell the lingering salt in her hair, and stayed fixed on her dark-brown eyes thick with lashes. “To harm my gentle wife, I couldn’t bear it.”
Wife. He wanted to repeat the word, use it at every opportunity.
She pulled him in to kiss, fast working to undress him, and he resumed his playing and enjoyment of the moment. At times, she submitted. In other instances, she gave way to some playful impulse. All of it made him smile.
At her most rambunctious effort, he found himself amused and intrigued, rewarding her with a single phrase, “Good girl.”
They ended in bed, where the chatter of the crowds outside the castle didn’t seem to make it to their ears.
“I’d always hoped that, someday, I could thank the Juneun who healed my family. My village,” said Hisa, dream-stated. “I never imagined I would fall in love with so great a man. Or that he would have a place in his heart for me.”
Kwan listened, playing with rebellious locks of her hair.
“Some days, it doesn’t feel real. I’m almost afraid to sleep.”
He paused in his fiddling.
“What if I wake up, and it was all a dream?”
“It can never be a dream,” said Kwan. “Not when it saved me from a life of nightmares.”
“Saved you?” repeated Hisa with a laughing smile.
Kwan grunted, letting go of her hair to allow the back of his index finger to run up and down the length of her collar bone. “An ember from ashes. Or the grasslands when the river breaks free of a beaver’s damn.”
She mulled it over, her fingertips tracing his muscles.
“We’ll go to the sea tomorrow,” said Kwan.
Hisa looked up, a smile consuming her.
“And we’ll go home the following day.”
Her expression faltered. “So soon?”
Kwan shifted, reading her face. “You’re disappointed?”
“I...” Her bottom lip half-hid itself. “I was hoping I could dance with you again while we’re here for Mokryon.”
He watched her turn sheepish, bringing his thumb to brush down the tip of her nose in a playful manner. “We’ll dance tomorrow. And go to the sea the following day.”
She smiled.
“Hisa is happy?”
She nodded with a quiet giggle.
“Magpie.”
“Which reminds me!” Hisa flung herself out of the bed, grabbing the nearest thing to cover her nakedness.
One of his own robe layers from the day. She shuffled to the drawers, tying it to keep the article from falling off her smaller frame. It wasn’t overwhelmingly large on her, and it presented a sort of cuteness. There was something about seeing the woman he loved sporting his clothes in the most disheveled way that endeared him.
She returned to him with a small pouch, hardly able to contain a proud expression. He took the offering, watching her climb back into the bed and hang over his shoulder with a shy hopefulness. She rested her chin on him, arms loosely slung around his midsection.
Kwan fished out the trinket. Nothing extraordinary in its craftmanship, nor a very pretty piece. But it was how proudly she thought of it that muddled his opinion of the thing.
“I always want to give something in return whenever you’ve done something for me. I don’t have any particular talent or know what I could do to show how much it means. Nothing really feels like enough to express that I love you.”
Hearing that meant more to him than the jade. A delight in his efforts receiving some appreciation, rather than be seen as expectation. “I like it.”
“You do?” asked Hisa with renewed excitement.
Kwan turned his head to meet her eye, giving a single nod. Her hold became snug, and she buried her face between his neck and shoulder ticklishly. “In the future,” said Kwan, waiting to regain her attention. “I like the jam dumplings you make.”
“I always worry I’ve salted the dough too much, and the jam gets too tart.”
“It pairs perfectly with floral wines.”
She beamed. “Then I’ll make some when we get back. As often as you want.”
“What do I give in exchange for so many pleasant treats?”
Her face slackened, leaving Kwan to see her mind working to come up with an answer. “Say that you love me?”
“I will say that regardless,” said Kwan. “Is there nothing else?”
She rested her head back on his shoulder. “I’ll think of something.”
A loud pop and flash of colored light spilled into their room, both of them looking to the window. Hisa scooted closer, flinching at first to the explosive sound, and in awe of the dazzling display after. He watched her a moment, taking in her image, and made his way to observe the event with her. More often, he looked to her face than the fireworks, seeing the glitter reflecting in her eyes and off the shine of her black hair.
He rested his cheek atop her head, savoring everything around them in as the finally began.
When it ended, she looked up at him, meeting his eye in a quiet stare, smiling. “Kiss me?”
He mirrored her expression, subdued, and placed a kiss at the base of her forehead.
****
Morning.
Kwan dressed before the first rays of light painted the sky in opaque splendor. He looked at Hisa, asleep and still wrapped in his robe, and placed a soft touch of his lips to her cheek. Once his oath to Gumiho was nullified, he could let go and begin anew with her. To be a better man than he was before.
Outside the walls, and between mountains, Kwan’s swift speed carried him like a gale to the appointed spot. Zhen waited beside Kwang, Bird Song in hand, the medicine woman of the Lion Clan among them, and a young man with her. Human, with a horse-cleaving sword set before him. Kwan moved his watch, expectant.
“It takes more than a sword to break this kind of oath, Kwan,” said Zhen.
“The boy?” asked Kwan, level in his tone.
“Lady Sue’s ward.”
“A prince,” said Sue. Tall and fit, she still suited the part of a lady in her layers of soft colors. “At the request of his step-mother.”
Kwang shifted his weight. The next silent question hung in the air.
“I said I’d bring Bird Song,” said Zhen. “I never said I knew how to break your oath with it.”
Kwan frowned, displeased with the idea of more knowing his shame. Though, there was no avoiding it now.
“Let’s begin,” said Zhen. “While the sun is both here and away.”
“A pledge from your well,” explained Sue, “cannot be unmade. It can, however, be transferred to another.”
She slid her palm against the edge of Bird Song as Zhen presented. Two blades at the hilt, intertwining into one at its halfway point. The ethereal green of the metal waking with threads of sunlight dancing on it, Kwan marveled at the craftsmanship. Forged from a star that fell into the sea, the sword seemed somehow alive and aware.
Zhen nodded, gesturing for Kwan to bare a part of himself. “Which hand?”
Kwan kept his gaze on Zhen, measuring. “The right.”
Zhen shrugged. “Your sword hand. An interesting pick.” He gestured to a large, flat stone.
Kwang set up a soundless spell, keeping their meeting private from the world, while his brother lay his arm down upon the rock.
“I suppose it makes sense,” said Zhen with a slyness to his voice. “You did say you were newly intended.” He held the blade high, watching Sue’s blood creep down its edge. A single drop fell from its tip, cuing Zhen to bring it down into Kwan’s hand. The sound of the blade, a robin’s mournful war cry, as it sliced the air.
Kwan held in roars of pain at the plunge. Growls and groans escaped through clenched teeth, his every instinct telling him to attack. Through will, he stayed on his knees, arm stretched out.
Sue’s ward walked up, regal, and handed his enormous sword to Sue for safekeeping while he completed the transfer of the oath. Even in his pain, Kwan felt there was something off. He’d assumed Sue would be the one to take his oath. Though, perhaps in putting it to a person more easily subdued was the preferred method.
The boy’s right arm on the stone, across and to the side of Kwan, he braced himself. Zhen removed the sword tip from Kwan’s hand, blood fast pooling. Kwan fought the urge to recoil his hand, breathing his pain to keep still until the ordeal was through.
When Kwan’s blood reached the princeling, Zhen repeated the motion, holding Bird Song high and waiting for a single drop to fall before bringing it down. It cut through the blood and into the princeling’s hand. The boy wailed, his body arched with nowhere to retreat while his hand stayed pinned. He fought to regain himself, reclaiming some semblance of dignity for Zhen to finish.
Bird Song stayed in place, held there until the first rays of sunlight washed over the scene. Slow, Zhen removed the sword tip.
At once, the boy pulled away, trembling at the sight of his wound.
Kwang, ready, hurried to tend to his brother’s injury.
“Let it heal naturally tigers,” said Zhen. “Or a piece of that promise will stay with you. Even this won’t be of help then.”
Kwan held in his fury, allowing his brother to clean and dress the wound.
The boy, perhaps a little humiliated from crying out, took to trying to wrap his own hand in a hurried manner, and stand poised.
“Gumiho is now the ward of Prince Joben,” said Sue. Swift as lightning, she took the horse-cutter to the boy, his body and head landing separately. “And that is treason.”
Kwan looked on in horror. “What is the meaning of this?”
“The transfer of your oath required noble birth, Lord Kwan,” said Sue. “The human king desired his natural son to inherit, and named him crown prince. His human queen sent the boy away. She disliked the idea of a child that wasn’t hers claiming the throne. And my late husband kept him, if only to use later in mortal affairs.”
“You said nothing about the death of an innocent,” growled Kwan.
“A human,” said Sue. “He was useless until now.”
“He did nothing,” said Kwan, a threat in his voice. “You slew him for the sins of others.”
Sue threw a cold look. “Not every war is won through the might of sons. You’d know that if you had more sisters.”
“A pleasure doing business,” said Zhen, casual and disinterested. “It seems we’re all paid up and happy. Sue is free of her obligations. Kwan is free of his impetuous oath. I’m set to wed Yeona—and I expect the announcement to be carried out tonight. A public display supported by the host won’t allow for her father to refuse.”
Kwang spoke first. “It will be carried out. As promised.”
Kwan turned his scowl from Zhen and Sue, to the corpse on the ground. Starting his life anew, in blood. No... “We’re not done here, yet.”