A Dance of Mist and Fury, page 27
Quiet lingered over me. I stayed perfectly still.
Only when Lord Kwan bid I resume did I stand, and did so hesitantly.
Urekkato bore a perplexed expression, assessing what’d transpired. Lord Kwan gave his assurance that I’d been dealt with, and that no future insult would arise. I kept out of their conversation, even as topics changed.
Syaoran brought rice wine, and I was bid to serve.
As I stood, pitcher in hand and waiting to refill, I wondered about why Lord Kwan went through the effort of a lie for me. From friendship? And would it cause trouble with the others?
“I say that I’m surprised,” said Urekkato. “Your lowest ranked girl is your preferred attendant. But you’re like that, I suppose.”
That drew my attention. My eyes glanced to my court wear, colored to show my status among the household staff. Looking up, I’d missed exactly when Urekkato held up his cup to refill, and went on so as to not make him wait.
Lord Kwan said nothing in response.
“There’s rumor that Yua is your mistress at last. Is it finally true?”
As he always did, Lord Kwan took his time to respond, setting down his drink first. “I have no mistress.”
“It’s been how long?” asked Urekkato with a smirk. “Ninety years? Ninety-one? Though I make up for the both of us.”
Lord Kwan stared ahead at him, saying nothing.
“You were a lot more sporting when you were younger. Maybe your tastes have changed and you prefer human concubines now.” His expression grew more devilish as he teased. “Makes more sense. There’s only so long that they live. And it allows for variety and the thrill of a new love all over again.”
“That is not my reason,” said Lord Kwan, conservative in his words and inflection.
“It would explain a few things,” said Urekkato, turning his gaze to me.
I tried not to wince, making myself keep still as though I hadn’t heard a thing he said.
“Tell me, my friend,” he shifted his eyes back to Lord Kwan. “Have you told Yua about her beloved yet?”
Lord Kwan’s expression darkened. “I did not want to distress her before court.”
“Compassion? Or selfishness?” teased Urekkato.
“That depends,” said Lord Kwan. “If allowing grief to take its course on her own terms is compassionate or selfish.”
“Lord Kwan has a heart,” said Urekkato, putting on a pleasant smile. “It makes up for what he’s locked away.”
No response. He raised up his cup, allowing wordlessness to fill the space between himself and his guest as I replenished it.
The door opened again, without announcement. Two of Lord Kwan’s brothers walked in. A cup was given to each, and I acted. The younger giving me a look of recognition, and the elder seemed not to notice my presence at all.
“Perhaps that compassionate heart extends to punishments as well. I don’t believe you’d deliver forty strikes.”
“You are free to believe whatever you like.”
“Forty strikes for what?” asked Kwang.
“A ravenous set of insults from his servant to a Juneun lord, of course.”
“Forty is soft,” said Beom. “Fifty is the threshold.”
“Ah, but the threshold was lowered, since the offender was human.”
Both Beom and Kwang looked at me then, and I tried not to squirm or sweat under their gaze. Beom shifted his eyes to Lord Kwan, narrowing them into a scowl.
“They are a fragile thing,” said Kwang. “I’m impressed she’d withstand ten.”
From his tone, I understood the young lord meant to diffuse tension.
“It is indeed impressive,” said Urekkato, his finger pushing his cup closer to the table’s edge.
“Likely because my brother delivered nothing of the sort,” said Beom.
“To whom was the offense,” said Kwang, hoping to distract.
“Among your present company,” said Urekkato, casual in his tone.
They looked between him, to their brother, and to me.
“The matter has been dealt with,” said Lord Kwan, his watch on his brothers holding a finality to it. “It will not happen again.”
“It is insult after insult with you,” grumbled Beom. “Were it my house, I’d hand the rod to the offended lord.”
“It is not your house,” reminded Lord Kwan. “And your input is not desired.”
I was relieved to finally be dismissed, and took whatever task meant being away from court guests. Mostly, that meant fetching water for the kitchen. I didn’t mind it. The nearest well was the restored one in the back, and I was happy for the lack of people so I didn’t have to look proper just to carry a bucket.
It was tiring work, climbing up and down stairs with a heavy pale while dressed so restrictively. Past midday, I took a break, sitting on the bench and enjoying the shade of the trees. Light filtered through new leaves, making a mesmerizing scene above whenever a breeze passed through. It felt good to be off my feet and out of my wood sandals for a while. A part of me missed the straw sandals I would weave, even if they didn’t last for too long and were more time consuming to put on.
I knew I couldn’t stay idle, sighing as I got my shoes back on and walked to bring up more water. My initial steps away from the well, my foot slid, making me stop to balance and try to fix it in the next step. Before I could take it, I was pulled off my feet, losing the sandal entirely and dropping the pale. An arm restrained me, and a hand over my mouth.
“I know you didn’t sleep in the stables last night,” whispered Urekkato. “I was there, more than once.”
I struggled to get free, made still when he tightened his restraint on me.
“I just want to talk. So, I’m letting go. Don’t scream. I hate the sound of screaming, regardless of why.”
My breath became shallow, rapid. My legs begged me to run, while the rest of me wanted to collapse in a terrified puddle. He was slow to release, testing to see if I’d do something in contradiction with his plan. When I felt free enough, I pushed away, stumbling a few steps to put distance between us.
“Kwan keeps surprising me,” said Urekkato in a pleasant voice.
I glared, my face turning hot. Though, there wasn’t much that I could do against a Juneun.
“Out of all the things to surprise me most, I would never have guessed it would be his match making me to a princess, or that he would lie to me over a human.”
I froze. Every part of me screamed to run, but I couldn’t.
“What is your relation to my dear friend Kwan? It’s not just anyone he’s put so much effort into a charade for, that much is certain.”
I drew an unsteady breath, reining my voice to my control. “He is my master. And I am his servant—”
“Yes, yes. A well-rehearsed answer. What is your relationship really? Why does he care so much?”
I retreated my arms to my chest trying to think, trying to hide. “Wouldn’t it be better to ask him?”
He took a step closer.
I took a step back.
A wry smirk spread over his lips. “I figured it’d be better to ask you directly. You’re not exactly elegant with your words, village girl. It could be an entire day of circling around with conversation before I finally get an answer from my kind. You’ll stay here until I get an answer.”
I turned my eyes down. “I’m just a servant.”
“I seriously doubt it,” said Urekkato, from behind me.
My head shot up, looking over my shoulder as the rest of me stumbled forward. I fell. He caught me, preventing me from hitting the ground, and standing me straight. Whatever the reason, I didn’t like it.
“Is there really nothing? I find it hard to believe.”
I shook my head. “He’s my master. But I, I do think of him as my friend as well.”
“A friend?” He scoffed, as if the idea was invalid. “Just a friend?”
I nodded.
“Kwan. Friends with his human prisoner?”
I stared, not knowing what else to say.
He studied me in turn. “What did you do?”
“My lord?”
“Kwan hasn’t made an effort of attachment in a long time. And a long time to a Juneun is unfathomable to a human.”
“What do you mean?” I knew it was a stupid question, but the words spilled out of my mouth before I considered as much. The same way I backed up until I was against the lip of the well.
He gave me a quizzical look, twisting his face into a question before relaxing into a knowing expression. “They haven’t told you, have they?”
“Told me? Told me what?”
He grinned. “Not since Syaoran. And that relationship is more on the fox’s effort than on Kwan’s. A bit of boot licking to save his own skin.”
“I don’t understand.”
Urekkato vanished, reappearing right in front of me. One hand on my shoulder, the other holding the edge of the well, he leaned in close to whisper. His hot, uncomfortable breath tickling my ear, I winced. “He doesn’t have his soul.”
I stood, stunned and blinking.
“Gumiho ripped it out of him,” continued the Cat lord. “Some say he locked it away and hid it where no one would find it.” He leaned back, meeting my eye and measuring how shaken I was. “And some say she outright ate his soul. Regardless of what version of the story is true, that’s when he changed and closed himself off.”
“But he’s not closed off,” I argued, as pathetic as my voice sounded. “He’s, well, he can be hard to understand. And maybe he doesn’t smile often. But I think—”
His hand left the rim of the well, lifting my chin to better lock eyes. “Is that so? I was thinking you had an effect on Kwan. But maybe it’s the other way around and he has quite the profound effect on you.”
My eyes blinked in rapid succession, clearing my sight though unhelpful in deciphering the full meaning of Urekkato’s words.
“To think he refused a beauty like Eumeh, but went out of his way for you.”
I frowned, turning my head to pull away from his touch.
“But really, what do you hope to gain from someone willing to lock away his soul?”
I glared, my face fast becoming hot. “He’s my friend. And what does it matter about his soul? The way so many lords speak about each other, about their servants, about humans, I’d stand by Lord Kwan without a soul over anyone else with their soul every time.”
Despite my outburst, Urekkato didn’t look surprised or even mildly annoyed. I’d done my best to keep from yelling, to hold back all the things I wanted to say and make a more general statement.
He kept his curious stare, looking me over one last time. “You know, you and Kwan are the only ones to openly challenge me. Everyone either tip-toes around it, or uses their rank to enforce their perspective. I think I’m starting to understand why he’s so fond of you.”
He leaned in.
I leaned back. But with the well against me, with nowhere to run, I was trapped.
“So, I’ll give you a gift,” said Urekkato, his voice now warm with a hint of mischief. “I want to see where this goes with you and Kwan, so how about an exchange? I’ll bring you luck, and you let me borrow your eyes once in a while.”
“My eyes?” I wanted to run then and there, or throw myself into the well. My hands instinctively pushing back against his chest, though my arms lacked the strength to make any difference. How was taking out my eyes supposed to sound like a gift? I would be practically useless without my eyes; and all the effort I put to learn to read, to write, to improve on any of my skills would’ve been for nothing. I’d be forever in the dark, more susceptible to bears and boars and other wild things—a burden to my family worrying after me.
“Not like that,” said Urekkato, half with a laugh and yet half groaning. “I mean to see through your eyes.”
I stayed still, staring. I didn’t know what he meant, though I was sure it wasn’t anything good.
“It’s an easy enough spell for me to cast. I’ve done it hundreds of times. I want to see my old friend the way you see him, and watch how your friendship progresses. What the two of you do to make your bond.”
Like eavesdropping? Spying? I shook my head. “No. That’s creepy.”
“Eh? But you haven’t heard what you’ll get out of it.”
I shut my eyes and turning my face as far as my neck would allow.
“I’ll give you a part of my essence,” whispered Urekkato.
I winced.
“I can make it so you have a little more luck. Whether you need to find something, convince someone of something else, hide or escape—whatever you might need. No human could want a more valuable gift.”
“I won’t,” I said, still shaking my head to emphasize my total rejection. “I don’t want to be your spy for Lord Kwan.”
“It’s not spying,” said Urekkato, levity in his tone. “And if it’s too much of a personal moment, I won’t look. Just close your eyes for four seconds, and it ends anything I can see from you. For a time.”
“How would I know that’s even true?”
He laughed. “Well, you’re naïve, but you’re not stupid. I’ll grant you that.”
Shy, I slowly allowed myself to look back at him.
“What could I swear on to convince you I’m not lying?”
He backed slightly, giving me a breath of space. Enough to think. “Swear on your princess. On her life and yours.”
He chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain.” He removed himself, freeing me from my trapped position. My relief was short lived as he unfastened his shirt and the layers beneath to expose his chest. Of course, on seeing my alarm, he wasted no time in teasing me. “Have you never seen a man’s torso? Or do you find me handsome?”
Both of those were true to an extent. I’d never seen a man’s bare body—it was different when we were all children and all looked relatively the same, but the rules changed when girls came into their womanhood and boys into their manhood. And I did think he was handsome—but all the Juneun were beautiful compared to humans.
His body was toned, strong without a gross excess of muscle, and not a single scar on him. Something that made me think of agility and power perfectly balanced as one.
With his claw-like finger nail, he cut a crossed slash over his heart. “I swear, on my life and on Eumeh’s life, close your eyes for four seconds, and the spell will end for a time. It’s under your control.” The cut drew out a deep red from beneath the surface, then subsided quickly, healing over itself without so much as a blemish.
I didn’t know what that was supposed to prove, though it seemed like something official. Then again, any sort of magic could look impressive if you didn’t know what it was for.
“Now do you trust me?”
“No.”
“It could help you, you know? If there’s danger and I happen to see it at the time, I can send aide or come myself to resolve whatever is happening.”
I immediately thought about the times Lord Kwan came home and was not himself, and of his injuries. Gumiho was gone, but what if there was some retaliation? What if he did need help? I didn’t have magic or any impressive skill. In knowing how weak I was by compare, and how much I wanted to protect him the way he protected me, the decision felt impossible to make. It was too much like I’d be betraying Lord Kwan, allowing Urekkato to spy. Though, I could end it myself and prevent him from seeing much of anything. If he saw Lord Kwan needed help because of me, wouldn’t that be a good thing? But, there wasn’t the guarantee of Urekkato seeing it, and I didn’t know how I’d make him see it.
“Well?” He’d started to put himself back together at a casual pace.
I looked between him and the house, deciding. “Will it hurt?”
“No,” said Urekkato with a shrug. “It tingles and itches a little for about a day, until the spell fully sets. That’s about it.”
I still hesitated. “What would I have to do?”
He gave a kind smile, though I didn’t trust the sincerity of it. “I just need your consent to cast the spell. It’s a fickle piece of magic.”
“Consent?”
“Your permission.”
Why didn’t he just use that word instead? It felt like I was leagues behind in my understanding of words, and trying to catch up the best I could since coming here.
I thought a while longer, and nodded.
“I need you to actually say it for the spell to work.” He walked up, invading my space all over again.
Like before, my palms went to hold him back. And like before, my arms lacked the strength to achieve that. I stared into his cat-eyes, swallowing hard. “You have my permission to cast the spell. But only that spell.”
His smile morphed, “Close your eyes.”
My mind fast retrieved when Lord Kwan gave that command while standing so close to me. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“Did you want me to?”
I shook my head.
He chuckled. “No, I’m not going to kiss you. I’m casting a sight spell.”
As expressive as he allowed himself to be, I found I couldn’t read him any better than I could Lord Kwan. I took a breath, and silently prayed for strength, then closed my eyes. The touch of his nails brushing down my face caused me to flinch, and my fingers wrapped around his shirt. I didn’t catch the uttering of his spell. It ended almost as soon as he’d started.
“And that’s it,” said Urekkato.
I opened my eyes. Nothing looked different, though they did tingle and itch as though there was just a little extra pollen in the air. Exactly as he’d said.
“For luck, however, that’s a little bit different. You need to be undressed for that one.”
“What‽”
“I’m just messing with you.” He snickered, seeming to ignore my scowl. His nails dug into his palm, causing the tiniest hints or blood to surface, and placed it atop my head. “And that should be all there is to it. You can let go of my shirt now.”
