A Dance of Mist and Fury, page 26
His approach was well timed, judging by the relief of both that it was over. “Juro.”
Juro jumped, assembling himself. “Lord Kwan, yes. I was in the midst of vigorous discussion.”
The girl too, in service to Urekkato, tried to appear properly put, and seated herself out of the way.
“Of course,” said Kwan. “I’ve already heard minor details about the topic.”
Juro sighed.
“You know that she cannot accept any offers of marriage or mistress while she’s serving out a sentence, do you not?”
His face screwed itself up, twisting back to its original form. A moment of contemplation, and a false smile grew on him. “Yes. Of course. I suppose I was caught up with the happiness with the announcement of the princess’s engagement, I forgot the circumstances.”
Kwan watched, seeing the inner workings of Juro’s mind written across his face and spreading to the rest of his body language. A slow rebuild of himself.
“Her retreat was not rejection, but in honoring her service first.”
“A wonderful virtue,” said Kwan.
Juro scrunched his face. “There are rumors that your bed has seen the virtue of every lady in your house.”
Kwan folded his arms, scoffing. “I have taken none of the women in my service to my bed. I find myself more preoccupied with too much else.”
The response seemed to satisfy the former Kurai. A relief from the thought of comparison.
“Still, I must send her a token of my affections now and again, lest she forget me in my absence. Tell me, what are the things she adores most in this world? I would have them sent to her frequently if possible.”
“You’d fare better to ask her yourself,” said Kwan, taking his time with his words. “It doesn’t suit to let a woman think you can read her mind. Best she knows an active effort is made for her affection. Do you agree?”
“It is true. Though I will save it for tomorrow when we have both recovered.”
“Before you ride off, then. It’ll stay fresh in your mind.”
“That is a fact to consider.”
Kwan looked from the former Kurai to the woman shifting in her spot. “Are you quite done with your vigorous discussion?”
“We need a little more time, I think,” said Juro, looking to her and waiting for agreement.
A reluctant nod.
“If you’re certain,” said Kwan, giving a last chance. She didn’t accept, allowing him to dismiss himself and head home.
“Come here,” cooed Juro when more secure of no further interruption. “You may help me to practice for my wedding night. I did inform that I would still have a mistress, and I do enjoy the crisp and wooded smell of you. Should your lord allow it.”
Kwan continued his pace, remembering a conversation. We might say that is unkind. Though, if she had a change of heart, he wouldn’t dissuade her from her choice. It would be a leap in her station. One any family would likely accept with reverence and waste no time bragging to their neighbors.
If she had such a motive, then she was simply a variant of what he knew in the whole of his life.
He bid his farewells to guests as they left. Going through the motions practiced and perfected in his earliest years. Comments on the beautiful displays, the wines, and the weather went among other small notes covering what they’d really wanted to say. Insincere smiles and a double meaning to words, hinting at an insult.
It didn’t matter. In a decade, the event will have been forgotten.
Syaoran walked the courtyard, deep in thought.
“You look as though you mean to tell me bad news,” said Kwan. “To do with Beom or Kwang, undoubtedly.”
His fox ears flattened, and he gave an apologetic face. “No, lord. It’s... One of your house gave insult to Urekkato. A few heated words. And he’s soured.”
“Then take a bamboo stick and deliver forty swats,” said Kwan, dismissive and walking on. It irritated him, expecting better of his staff in how they treated a high-ranking guest in his home. Something that, surely, all of them knew.
“It’s Hisa, my lord,” said Syaoran.
Kwan stopped in his step. Timid Hisa? His mind recalled every time he’d seen her trembling and meek, as recently as this past winter. So he kept still, contemplating.
“I provoked it, my lord,” said Syaoran, with an undertone of urgency. “The lashings should go to me.”
Kwan turned. “Explain.”
“I’d accidentally exposed Lord Juro’s excitement to Lord Urekkato. And I allowed myself to be convinced of encouraging an encounter I knew wouldn’t end happily.”
“It sounds as though the slight was against Juro, and not Urekkato.”
Syaoran averted his gaze. “Hisa confronted us. She’d overheard our reveling.”
“I see.”
Syaoran gave a deep bow, straight backed and humbled. “I accept full responsibility.”
Kwan observed, weighing his options. “Where is Hisa now?”
“I’m not sure,” said Syaoran, staying in place, head low.
“Urekkato?”
“I believe he planned a bath and then to retire to his room.”
Knowing the Cat Clan princeling, he was unlikely to be alone for either. Which made for a good enough distraction for him, and a simple enough excuse to delay action on Kwan’s behalf.
“Have Hisa sent to me first thing in the morning,” said Kwan. Hopefully, he could think of some suitable outlet by then. Forty strikes to someone ignorant, reacting to a provocation, seemed overly excessive. She was also human, and likely wouldn’t withstand it at the hand of a Juneun.
Lying in bed, Kwan’s mind refused him rest. Even as the night grew ever late, sleep evaded him.
Gumiho was dead. He could replace his soul. But there was something still in his gut, warning him. He felt, somehow, still bound to his promise. Maybe the rowdiness within his house put him on edge. No, the feeling was before then. It’d been there through winter.
The distant moans didn’t bother him. Nor the pleading of one to another, whispering their desire. It was different, from within. Today burning a fiercer warning, telling him not to drop his guard.
He looked to his newest scar, running the length of his arm, finely visible, and touched at his face where he’d been cut. A thread of a mark left from nose to ear, though it rightly should’ve taken his eye.
No announcement of Gumiho’s death was made until today. Kwan wanted to be sure, even in spite of the evidence. Yet, he still wasn’t.
The door slid open, hardly making a sound. His head swiveled over, seeing Eumeh in her night gown. Sitting up, he tried to read her expression for clues. She kept her face down.
“Princess? What is the matter?”
She walked to him. As he started to stand, her hand went to rest atop his shoulder and stopped him. “Nothing is the matter.”
He stared, trying to see through her coy demeanor.
She pressed herself on him, lips touching, he pushed back only just. “You are engaged to another.”
“And my future husband doesn’t take fidelity seriously. Why should I?” strands of silken, black hair slid forward as she looked down at him.
“Because you are a woman.”
She frowned. “He’s with two of my maids right now. More interested in seducing servants than to seduce his own fiancée.”
Kwan lifted her hands from him, placing them to her sides.
“I wanted my first to be with the man who loves me. Not a man who appears to only love my title and assets. Now, I refuse him being first.”
“I cannot,” said Kwan, looking away. “Whatever kindred feeling, that is all there is. I will not insult the crown, or my friend. And not while both are a guest in my house.”
“If we were not in your house?”
He leered at her.
“If I command you of it?”
Kwan’s jaw locked, holding heated terms.
“I am a princess. And you are a vassal of the royal family. You refused me once already.”
“I will refuse again, rather than tarnish honor.”
Her frown deepened. “I know it was you who suggested a trial. Even if Urekkato named it, I know it was you who initiated it. Do you find me so repulsive?”
Kwan sighed and looked away. “I did not say that, princess.”
“Then do me this kindness. At the very least so that I am prepared for whatever mockery I’m to endure with him.”
He said nothing, and kept his gaze down.
She advanced, raising her knee to straddle him. His hand reacted, stopping her. They matched each other’s glowering.
“Then I will say you stole me into your room,” said Eumeh. “And that you robbed Urekkato of his wedding rite. How many enemies can you afford, now that Gumiho is dead?”
Kwan’s nose crinkled. “Whether I do or do not, you could claim the same.”
“Then you may as well.”
His lungs drew in a slow inhale, tempering his muscles. This wasn’t a foe he could cut down.
She climbed on him, unfastening the ties of his own night gown and sliding them off his shoulders. Pulling him to her lips, she disrobed herself. Her eyes shut, his lingered open. Regardless of what transpired, she was a princess and held the final word. One that could ruin him, yes, imprison him, of course, and which robbed his personal dignity. His hand took the small of her back as he came up with a plan; something to remind her that he wasn’t a pet or personal toy.
He shut his eyes, bracing her against him and swallowing in her giggling moan.
She pushed off him for breath. “That’s more like it.”
Kwan said nothing, taking his free hand to hook behind her head, fingers combing through her hair and bringing her down for a more passionate kiss—providing the illusion she wanted. He felt her lips smile, her arms wrapping around him. The hand on her back sliding down, guiding her hips into a repeating motion against him. When she got the idea, going on her own initiative and at her own pace, his hand fell a little lower to grasp at her.
He pretended to explore her, a playful aggression. She slowed, perhaps understanding he wouldn’t deliver what she wanted any time soon. So, he took a lover’s role, pulling her to her back while he loomed over giving only a brief moment to seem as though he needed to catch his breath in a pant. Kisses were planted down her neck and between her breasts, pretending he’d submitted to the role and biding time for her to trust his next move.
He lifted her up on him again, thumbs brushing up and down her inner thighs. She looked down into his eyes, bringing herself closer to him. Seizing his chance, he turned her around, pinning her to his table.
“What are you doing?” demanded Eumeh in a whisper.
Kwan placed his torso against her back, allowing his weight to hold her. “I have no security that you’ll make me free of this. So, I will perform in the way that gratifies me most.”
Her face twisted, indignant. He ignored it, and did as she originally commanded. If the private humiliation was enough, she wouldn’t come to him again, or command that he come to her. So, he didn’t put on the pretense, and was not the tender lover she wanted out of him. The sooner they were through, the sooner he’d know his fate.
Chapter 29
The Prince
I couldn’t sleep. My face flushed hot, not from the confrontation, though it didn’t help.
It was the moaning and the giggling that sounded from the floor above my room. And through my walls. A number of women from the staying households wasted no time in seducing one of the lords with the hope of becoming his wife or mistress; a life that would be of comfort rather than service, of sleeping in and receiving priceless gifts while he remembered them.
Still, I dreamed of a family in the village. The rules of nobles were suffocating. While the other women wished for court to be held regularly, and increase their chance of escape, I prayed Lord Kwan wouldn’t take up any more events while I stayed.
I tossed and turned, hiding under my covers, pressing my bunny against my ear to muffle the sounds. It worked for a while. Then there was the sound like one woman was enduring unimaginable pain in a similar rhythmic pattern to previous moans. I was so tired, yet unable to fall asleep.
Until finally I did.
It didn’t feel like a long enough rest when I was woken up to go to Lin’s room again. Four more days of this. I wasn’t sure I could handle it.
In the midst of dressing, Syaoran tapped Lin’s door with a message. Lord Kwan wanted to see me. The women helped me to hurry and be out, carrying my wood sandals and cotton socks. I wanted my trek to go unnoticed, and to not wake anyone that might still be asleep.
He was only half dressed when I arrived. While I didn’t see any bare parts of his chest or below, it was improper. So many rules for a servant. Like so many layers of clothing before you were deemed decent. He bid I come in anyway.
When I did, I stayed at the threshold of the door, now closed behind me.
He was in the midst of writing something. The brush in his hand held perfectly, and each movement graceful. His eyes stayed fixed on his work, letting silence hang over us. In waiting, my own eyes began to wander, noticing how parts of his room looked out of place.
“I was told you insulted one of my guests in my own home,” said Lord Kwan.
He didn’t sound angry or even a little upset. His tone was more matter-of-fact than any hint of threat. Still, my spine went stiff and my gut went cold. “Yes, my lord,” I whispered, hoarse as it was.
He said nothing for a while, finishing the last strokes with his ink brush before setting it delicately aside. “For what reason?” Finally, his eyes looked up at me past his unkept hair.
I dropped my gaze, hoping beyond hope that my feet might somehow provide me with useful words.
“Look at me,” commanded Lord Kwan, still tempered in tone.
I obeyed, slowly, needing courage. “I was angry, my lord. And I yelled at Lord Urekkato. It was wrong of me, I know, but I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry.”
“What was it you said?”
My thumbs moved closer to each other, fidgeting. “I’d said,” I swallowed hard. Thick and sticky spit moved down my throat, landing hard in my stomach. “That it wasn’t a joke to play with the feelings of others. And that it was especially cruel to do so to someone who thought of them as a trusted friend.”
“Reasonable,” said Lord Kwan, resting his cheek atop folded fingers. “Was it necessary to yell and be so direct with Lord Urekkato?”
I shook my head and looked down.
“Hisa, look at me.”
I did, needing to call back some of my bravery. “I was scolding Syaoran, my lord. And Lord Urekkato—I couldn’t stop myself from snapping at him. I’m sorry, my lord.”
He stared at me, deciding what to do. “It is not me you need to apologize to. Urekkato has always been prideful. And his pride in himself has only increased with his betrothal now official.” He rolled up the paper he’d written on, tying a finely braided piece of twine around it expertly.
I nodded my understanding, already thinking of how I should make my apology.
“I’ve already sent for him to come here after his breakfast. In the meantime, you will attend me, so that we have an excuse for your being here.”
“Excuse?”
“I will tell him that I have dealt with the matter. That Yua has whipped you and that you were made to sleep in the stables last night. You must allow that to be the truth. And you must then bow on your knees to make your apology. It has to appear as though I have broken you, and you made the initiative to avoid further punishment.”
It sounded horrifying. So much over a short, angry burst. It scarce came to blows in the village, though it did sometimes happen between the men. And I’d seen frustrated women, irritated over months or longer, lash out at each other and needing to be separated. A few seconds of only words seemed nothing, and was usually buried behind by morning.
Regardless, I nodded my understanding, and repeated the story in my head to make myself believe that’d been the case.
“Come,” said Lord Kwan.
My feet complied. When he bid I fetch this robe or that, I did, and helped to place it neatly on him. In spite of the fastenings, it seemed fairly obvious where something ought to go; certainly, it was less complicated than what I was made to wear, but elegant all the same. When he changed his mind about one and asked for another, I folded the first and brought what he indicated to. When he said to tie tighter, I did so gradually.
Then came the point where he stopped me, raising my chin to face him.
“You must act as though this is not your first time attending.”
I blinked, not understanding. I’d thought I was doing well in figuring things out during my first try. It was when he placed the backs of his fingers against my cheek, cool to the touch, that I realized. Despite my every distraction, I was blushing. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, though I wasn’t sure if that actually fixed anything.
“It doesn’t make sense to you, I know,” said Lord Kwan. “And you’re nervous.”
I met his eye again, seeing concern within them. Again, it felt like there was some part of him locked away, only able to be seen through his eyes, and only if you were looking closely enough.
“I will be with you.”
I nodded, though I didn’t really get what he meant. Even so, it made me feel calmer, and I continued on.
When he’d changed his mind about something a second time, it dawned on me that he was stalling. He wanted it to look like Urekkato’s arrival interrupted us.
There was little to do to buy out more time, and I was bid to comb his hair. In that, I needed more direction. Five combs, and not just any one would do. They each had a specific purpose. This ritual of preparation for the day felt just as tedious as my own for court. I’d never thought of Lord Kwan as being vain, but these were odd circumstances today, and in need of a show. Presentation, no matter how trivial, somehow became necessary for court.
We were interrupted then, as I’d begun to tie up his hair into his preferred style. Urekkato announced himself and came in. As instructed, I stopped what I was doing on sight and fell into a groveling bow to deliver my apology. I didn’t dare to look up or move from that pathetic position, not even to see if there was a wordless acceptance of what I’d said.
