The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea(28)

They call me “Lady Mina” and “Shin’s bride,” guiding me from the salt baths across the warm, heady chamber to dip my toes into the cool stream that runs through the north side. Their chatter is filled with excitement and wonder, their words pattering around me like summer rain.

“She’s so young to be a bride, barely sixteen!”

“How romantic, don’t you think? That Lord Shin should fall for her in one night.”

“What do you think captivated him so?”

“Her bright face!”

“Her nimble body.”

“Her thick hair. It really is lovely.” A warm set of hands massages my scalp, while another slips perfumed fingers through my hair, the scents of lavender and hibiscus washing over me. Finally I’m left alone to soak in the central bath of the chamber, steam curling up around me in pleasant, lazy swirls.

My thoughts drift to just an hour earlier. What did Shin mean when he said he didn’t have a soul? He spoke as if stating an undeniable truth. And neither Kirin nor Namgi contradicted him. But I was taught that everything has a soul, from the emperor to the lowliest of humans, from the birds to the rocks in the stream.

I lift my arm, and water spills from my hand, as does the Red String of Fate, slipping across the chamber to disappear through the far wall. I wonder where Shin is now. He received a missive and left on another boat with Kirin, while Namgi took me back to the house. Slowly, the Red String of Fate begins to shift across the room in a diagonal motion. He must be on the move.

“Lady Mina?” The maidservants have returned. They help me out of the water, placing a warm cup of barley tea into my hands to sip while one sweeps a turtle shell comb through my hair. I’m then garbed in a light summer dress with a pale blue skirt and white jacket, the sleeves embroidered with pink flowers. It even has a pocket for my knife. Afterward, we leave the main building of Lotus House and walk across the same open field I traveled with Shin and Namgi earlier.

Dawn streaks pink across the horizon. I’ve been awake for the whole night. I’m half asleep by the time the maidservants lead me to a room with a soft pallet of silk blankets. I lay my head down on the beaded pillow. Within seconds, I’m asleep.



* * *



My grandmother once told me the story of when the storms first began.

A long time ago, our people were ruled by a benevolent emperor blessed by the gods. Loved by them. By the Sea God, most of all. The world was prosperous then.

It was said that the emperor and the Sea God had a brotherly bond that was unbreakable, that one could not exist without the other.

Then one day, a conqueror came to our kingdom, and although our brave emperor fought him, he was defeated, his murdered body tossed from the cliffs into the sea.

It was the loss of the emperor that threw the Sea God into his vengeful wrath. And the usurper, triumphant after having slain the emperor and his family, learned what it was to rule a land cursed by gods.

Ironically, it was the conqueror who first sacrificed a bride to the Sea God, and in so doing, saved our people.

For five years, a terrible drought had ravaged the lands; the rivers and streams dried up. The bones of fish lay shattered in the barren riverbanks. The usurper consulted a priestess, who told him that only “a love equal to or greater than the love the Sea God bore for the emperor” could appease the god’s wrath. The conqueror, who had taken up residence in the slain emperor’s palace, had one child, a daughter. She was said to be the most beautiful girl in the kingdom, with pomegranate-red lips and dark-moon eyes. But more than that, it was said that she was the only person the conqueror truly loved.

She became the Sea God’s first bride.

For three seasons following her sacrifice, the sea was calm, and the land was safe. Until the summer months once again arrived. This time, rain fell from the sky in sheets of icy water, flooding the rivers and fields. People drowned in their beds, children whisked away from them by fierce winds.

Another sacrifice was prepared. Another girl was thrown into the sea.

And so it continued. Year after year.

It became known. It became myth.

Nothing appeased the Sea God’s wrath except the life of someone beloved.



* * *



I wake to light sweeping across my eyes and the sound of my grandmother’s voice echoing from my dreams. I recognize the room I’m in as the one from the night before, where the thieves attempted to steal my soul. Though someone must have come while we were gone to tidy up. The wooden floor is polished to a gleam, and the few pieces of furniture are upright and pushed to the side. The only evidence of the fight is the hole in the window from the crossbow bolt, through which birds can now be heard singing to one another across the pond.

There’s a soft knock, and the door slides open. Two maidservants enter, one carrying a tray of covered dishes, the other tools for grooming, a comb and a ribbon. The first maidservant places the tray before me and proceeds to take the lids off each mouthwatering dish. Savory soup. Grilled yellow corvina on a bed of lush greens. Chestnut rice. The last dish is a steamed egg puffing up from the stone pot like a cloud. As with the dumplings the night before, I devour the meal. The maidservants encourage me as I eat, pointing to the properties of certain dishes and asking if there are any particular foods I’d like to eat for future meals. Afterward, the second maidservant moves to sit behind me, brushing my hair and gathering it in sections for a braid.