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We slept in, taking breakfast in our room rather than to make a social appearance. I didn’t need a morning remedy, and ate with gusto. Never having seaweed before, I didn’t know what to expect. There was a saltiness to it, but it wasn’t terrible. Mostly, I stuck to whatever was most familiar to me.
Outside the gates, and dressed lightly, Kwan scooped me up to use his speed to get us to the beach. It was a more direct magic, but it still made my insides quiver, and I needed a moment for my feet to remember themselves. My hair kept in its braid, and nausea was notably absent.
It wasn’t long before I took off my sandals, bettering my balance without them in the sand. Clumsy, I hurried to the water’s edge, towing Kwan in hand. The texture of the sand changed where the ocean soaked it; in the seconds that I awed, a wave rolled over my ankles. I squeaked, laughing as I exclaimed how it felt ice cold. And, not wanting to ruin my dress, I gathered the hem of my skirt to hold with my shoes.
We walked along the shore, letting waves roll past us. Now and again I would find a vividly colored shell and pluck it up. Chipped, broken, worn with time, I liked them all the same, and started to build a small collection. Clam shells, snail shells, curious spiral shaped ones, and ones that were porous and spherical. I’d found the dried husk of something called a sea horse, and another of a different animal called a sea star that was missing two of its legs. When Kwan said nothing more, I added them to my keepsakes in my gathered skirt.
I had no sense of the time passing between the warm sun, cold ocean, wild breeze, and tempered sand. Spending the day with the man I loved made the hours irrelevant. Nor did I have any sense of how far we’d walked until we came across a fishing boat that’d beached with damage and a frustrated crew of men.
They’d waved us down, asking for help. Taking his usual time, Kwan offered to bring the vessel far enough where the tide wouldn’t drag it out. They’d realized then that he was a Juneun and fell low to bow. Kwan gave no notice of the gesture, letting go of my hand to drag the cumbersome boat further on land. I held in my laugh, knowing I had to right—five years ago, I would’ve done the same thing.
The men stared in awe as Kwan pulled up their boat at a steady pace, unassisted.
“You must be guests of our own Lord Juneun,” said one man, no older than twenty-five by the look of him. “We’ve been catching glimpses of the fireworks. Is there some sort of celebration at the castle?”
I nodded. “For Mokryon. It’s an annual festival the Juneun hold in spring. But a different Juneun hosted it last year.”
“You’re a Juneun too, then?”
I shook my head with a chuckle. “No, I’m human, like you.”
He looked confused, twisting his expression into a dozen questions.
“I’m—” I couldn’t help it. I was dying to tell someone, to share my happy news. “I’m his intended.”
“Then, you’re a princess?”
Again, I shook my head. “It’s not like that. Kwan and his brothers are high lords, but not princes.”
“Oh, I meant, your father is some far off king, isn’t he? For a human girl to be engaged to a spirit, you’d have to be a princess or something, right?”
I was about to explain when a larger wave crashed over, knocking me off balance. I dropped everything as I fell, caught by the young man. The force of the retreating wave began to pull me. Scared, I held fast and shrieked. In response, he put a more secure arm around me until the water returned to the sea.
“My sandals!” I realized.
“I got ‘em,” called another of the men, dashing into the ocean and wading quickly to snatch them back.
I breathed my relief. “Thank you.”
“You’ve never been near the ocean, have you?” asked the young man.
I shook my head. “No, it’s my first time.” I took my shoes from the other man, a little older, judging by his belly. Forlorn, I set my gaze at the sea, having lost every little thing I’d picked up in one fell swoop. Looking back, I saw Kwan standing with a raised brow and small basket in his hand.
On his approach, he asked if he could buy the basket. The men insisted he take it and whatever else he liked as compensation, expressing their gratitude.
“The basket will do,” said Kwan, offering it to me. “For my beloved.”
The young man became straight backed as I took the basket, placing my shoes inside it. “Wait just a moment Master Juneun, Princess.” He bolted to his boat before I could correct him.
I blinked, looking up at Kwan for a wordless exchange.
“I will inform your Lord Kwang about your distress, so that he can deal with it more appropriately.”
The remaining two men stuttered, giving their thanks.
The younger returned in a sprint, holding something up. “Since you lost all yours, Miss Princess, take this as a thank you.” He panted, handing me a round kind of shell with an odd flower shape in it. “It’s a sand dollar. My little sister likes to collect them—but only perfectly intact ones like this.”
“Shouldn’t it go to her?” I asked, now feeling guilty.
He laughed. “She has dozens. Probably close to a hundred, right uncle?”
The eldest among them nodded. “No idea what she plans to do with them all.”
“If there’s anything more,” said the other. “It’s the least we can do to thank you.”
With a nod, we left, continuing down the beach. All the while something felt off. Looking at Kwan’s face, his stoic expression seemed somehow displeased.
After a while, he broke the stillness between us. “He liked you.”
I blinked, not understanding.
“The boy who put his arm around you.”
“I don’t think so,” I said with a laugh. “A wave knocked me over and tried to pull me in. He caught me, that’s all.”
Slow and silent, Kwan half rolled his eyes and shifted his gaze elsewhere.
Bewildered, my mind argued with itself over what his behavior meant. Was he...? No. Impossible. “What’s wrong?”
Kwan said nothing, continuing an odd pout.
“You’re... are you jealous?”
A slight scoff left him.
I laughed. “What for?” When he said nothing, I leaned against his arm, content. “I often feel jealous of the Juneun ladies. They’ve known you longer than I have. Sometimes I think I can’t measure up, and that you’ll realize you don’t actually want me for a wife.”
“Ridiculous,” said Kwan. “If I wanted any of them, I’d have made some announcement long ago.” His words seemed to surprise him. His eyes told it all. “There was a thought. That you’d want a simpler, less political life. A life with your kin.”
I flexed my fingers in his hand, sighing my comfort as I stayed against his toned arm. “You don’t need to worry about that. If there was the slightest chance he did like me, it’s only because he thought I was a princess and I didn’t get the chance to tell him that I’m not. I’m just an ordinary village girl. Nothing special.”
“You could never be an ordinary village girl,” said Kwan, causing me to look up and meet his eye. “Because you’re Hisa. My Hisa.”
I chuckled. “And you’re my Kwan.”
****
By mid-afternoon, we set ourselves to go back to the castle. Kwan carried me, using his speed again, and stopping beside the river to clean off excess sand and salt.
At the castle, a serf trotted up. Kwan’s brother wanted to see him.
We parted, agreeing to meet again at supper. On my way to our room, I browsed through the finds I’d accumulated on our stroll. Despite having to start over, I was happy with my collection of broken keepsakes.
All pleasant thoughts fled when I opened the door to find Seong waiting. I blinked, my mind needing to catch up, attempting to make sense of why he was there.
“Kwan isn’t—”
“Lord Kwan,” said Seong. “And I am aware.” With a flick of his finger, the doors closed behind me. “I know the stunt from last night is because of you.”
I went stiff, but said nothing.
He stared. Not the sort of stoic, studying stare I’d grown used to from Kwan. His held a rage with it. A tiger’s stare at cornered prey. “My brother has always been difficult. Now, he’s openly oppugnant with family. What is it you hope to gain, girl?”
I didn’t understand what he meant. While I knew Kwan didn’t get along well with much of his family, he’d been only forthcoming since our arrival to Bitgaram. Hoarse, I started to squeak out my defense. “I don’t—”
Faster than I could blink, he’d left his sitting place by the table and was standing over me. I retreated into myself, as though being smaller and wide-eyed would somehow protect me.
“Whatever he’s promised or planned. End. It.”
Defiance took over me, even as my voice whispered and quivered. “I won’t.”
His palm slammed into the wall, shy of my ear and nearly deafening it a few seconds. I sucked in a sharp, shaking gasp, frozen in place.
“You are his whore and his play-thing. He parades you around for now because you are human and a novelty. He will be bored soon, and in no shortage of lovers beautiful and comely. And you will be old and tossed out, such is your breed.”
I steeled myself at his words, forming a scowl. It dawned on me what he was doing. He was trying to frighten me. He wanted me to surrender and obey, digging at insecurities I already made myself ignore. While he went on, I retrieved memories that proved otherwise. The pledge by the well, in a cave untouched by winter. The half coat I made him, and how he wore it openly. The jade pendent and the dancing, and his own moment of jealousy. Most of all, I held fast to every instance where he’d called me his wife. Short of beating me, I wasn’t going to let Seong manipulate me.
“You’re wrong,” I managed to whisper, even as I trembled.
Seong watched me with seething displeasure. “I think not. There are things in his past you know nothing about.”
“That he was in love with Gumiho, once,” I said, a little stronger. “He already told me everything. And I’ve forgiven him—regardless of whether or not you have, I don’t care. I trust what Kwan has told me over whatever you say to try and frighten me off.”
His other palm slammed. My shoulders flinched, body shivering in instinctual fear, but my eyes stayed locked with his. “I know that promising my daughter to the Samjos without my consent has something to do with you. I wouldn’t be surprised if Urekkato’s disappearance had something to do with you either.”
My expression loosened with confusion.
“You idiot girl,” growled Seong.
Defiant, I forced my voice to carry on despite its quivering. “It’s true that I’m not as educated as a Juneun lady. I don’t even know what oppugnant means. But I’m not stupid. Everything since the door closed is meant to make me afraid of you. To obey and cower. Do you plan to beat me like Beom did to get what you want?”
“If that is what it takes,” said Seong, evened in tone.
“Lord Genji wouldn’t resort to that. Neither would Kwan. But perhaps you’re not so great a Juneun as either of them.”
“You address your master too informally,” growled Seong.
I went on, as far as my fleeting bravery would allow. “He is not my master. He’s the man I love with all my heart and soul, and I will not betray him no matter who demands that I do.”
Seong glared, leaning in. For a moment, he seemed more tiger than man. “You’re not special. Many servant girls once thought they were special to him. Kurai girls thought they were special to him. The occasional of your kin might’ve thought she was special. You will be forgotten like the rest of them. He is a Juneun. You are not.”
“Genji didn’t think so,” I said in my hoarse whisper. “He loved Lady Isaden to her last day, and after.”
Seong’s expression went unchanged, his voice low, threatening, and his words slow. “You will be forgotten. It is my brother’s nature.”
“And I still love him,” I said, using the last bit of courage I had as my knees shook. “More than I will ever fear you.”
The door opened. Kwan stepped in, harboring a cold expression. For a while, no words were exchanged. A deafening silence hung thick in the air as the brothers leered each other.
“If you are angry with me,” said Kwan, low and with the hint of a growl, “then take it out on me. Do not stoop to Beom’s antics.”
Seong straightened, speaking with venom. “I didn’t strike at your precious whore.”
Kwan’s eyes narrowed.
“You should have let father lash her, rather than bear it yourself. Perhaps, then, she wouldn’t be so obstinate.”
I paled at his words, my scowl lifting and all remaining defiance extinguished. I hadn’t known about that. Kwan never said a thing, and my mind raced to figure out when and why.
At Tetsuden.
“I believe your wife is looking for you, brother,” said Kwan, level in his voice.
Seong’s frown deepened. Wordlessness, suffocating the space between us with magic. As he made to leave, Kwan spoke again.
“You will address her as Lady Hisa the next time you are invited to my house.”
Seong scoffed. “You really mean to go through with making this human your mistress?”
“No,” said Kwan. “And you will address her as Lady Hisa when next you are invited to my home.”
Seong stopped, meeting Kwan’s eye as another bout of quiet consumed the room.
“Call her my whore,” said Kwan, “and it will be met with steel.”
“You would throw away everything, for a human? You were daft enough when it came to Gumiho. Have you no shame?”
“It appears not,” said Kwan.
“You try too hard to emulate your teacher, little brother. But you forget that you lack the backing of Tetsuden and its adjoining lands.”
Kwan said nothing else, allowing his brother to have the last word. Seong left, and Kwan calmly slid the door closed.
My knees gave way, and I slid down the wall I’d been back into.
“Hisa,” cooed Kwan, coming to my side. “Are you alright?”
Trembling, I forced my voice back into my control, my breath erratic. “I’m not hurt. Only shaken.”
He looked me over, and pulled me into a tender embrace.
I collected myself enough to recall pieces of horrible news. “He said Urekkato is missing.” I looked up, pleading. I had to come clean about it. “I... Th-the first time you held court. He found me alone and-and I was persuaded into a deal with him.”
As I fumbled with my words, trying to make them sensible enough to explain myself, Kwan kept a quiet watch on me.
“I, I let him put a sight spell on me. I didn’t know what it was all about, and he made it sound harmless—I regretted it immediately, but he wouldn’t take it back! And, then... the day in the groves...”
His face went unchanged, patient with me.
“I was afraid she was going to kill you. So, I wrote down, begging him to help, and I kept looking at it, praying for him to see it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”
Kwan stayed stoic, observing.
“Is it my fault he’s missing...?”
“No,” said Kwan with a single shake of his head. “Urekkato never came to my aide.”
As much as I hated the Cat prince, I felt relief at that.
“What else did Seong say?”