The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea(34)

“Emperor? But there is no emperor. He was killed years ago.”

“Which is why Sun House remains empty.”

Shin moves on ahead, but I follow at a slower pace now. A hundred years ago, the emperor was murdered, and the storms began. But even a god, no matter his love for the emperor, wouldn’t punish an entire people for the crime of one person. In the hall, when I touched the Sea God and looked into his memories, perhaps it was from that moment when the emperor was killed. What happened on that cliff so long ago that left an emperor murdered, two worlds torn apart, and a kingdom cursed for a hundred years?

“There it is,” Shin says grimly, pointing across the way. “Moon House.”

I’ve been so caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t realize we’d traveled to the outskirts of the city. Ahead of us stretches a long, shallow canal, debris floating across its muddied surface. Crumbled buildings with broken doors and shuttered windows border the dirt pathways on either side of the canal. After the babble and crush of the inner-city streets, the empty silence is unnerving, as is the lack of color. The Red String of Fate is the only brightness against the dull gray buildings. Desolation hangs thickly in the air.

Even in a city of gods, there are places like this.

At the end of the canal—beyond a shattered gate, its arch cracked in two—is a large building, like a crescent moon on its side. At the center of the house is a door ripped from its hinges, leaving only a gaping, black hole.

A shiver runs down my neck. Reaching into the pocket of my dress, I grip the paper boat.

This would be easier if Moon House didn’t appear so foreboding. Hundreds of windows look down on me like black, depthless eyes. I can’t see beyond the threshold of the door. The air grows colder as we draw near. A bitter breeze swirls out from the doorway and scrapes against my skin. I take a deep breath, stepping into darkness.

Warmth envelops me, and I blink, surprised. Considering the size of Moon House, I thought it would be cavernous, drafty, and damp. But the room I’ve entered is small, with a low ceiling and closed walls. I don’t see any doors leading deeper into the building. It’s as if the entirety of Moon House—which, from the outside looked as if it were several stories high, with many floors and hallways—consists of this one small room. Its only inhabitant is a woman.

She sits on a cushion behind a low table at the very back of the room. Beside her is a fire, crackling in its grate. It casts the woman in shadow. All I can see are the whites of her eyes and the curve of her red lips.

A loud clicking sound draws my gaze downward. The woman has one hand lifted to the table. The sound comes from her long, curved nails tapping against the surface.

I lower my head in a bow and wait for her to speak, staring at the uneven floors. They’re scattered with dirt and splinters of wood. The incessant clicking of her nails continues as they tap, tap, tap upon the table.

The paper boat feels heavy in my hands.

Finally the tapping ceases.

I look up. The goddess’s eyes are focused beyond my shoulder, a bitter smile creeping over her wide mouth.

“What do we have here?” she says, her voice oily smooth, as if she eats the hearts of clams day in and out. “Why, if it isn’t Lord Shin. What have I done to deserve such an honor?”

“The honor is ours,” Shin says evenly. “We’ve come to ask you for a favor.”

“We…?” Her eyes slide to me. “And who are we?”

“My name is Mina,” I say, stepping forward. “I have a wish.”

The goddess blinks. “A wish?”

“It’s not for me.” I lift up the paper boat. “I’ve come on behalf of another.”

She holds out one hand, heavy with jeweled rings. I begin to hand over the boat, but she clicks her tongue. “First, I require payment.”

I stare at her smooth white hand, palm up and steady in the air. I’m reminded of the girl’s hands as she put the boat in the water. The way they trembled.

The goddess, impatient, snaps her fingers, and I blink away the image. “I won’t grant the wish unless I’m paid.”

My throat feels dry, and I have to swallow saliva to speak. “I have a knife. It belonged to my great-great-grandmother. It’s all I have.”

The goddess scowls, and her fingers curl back into the shadows. “Worthless. I won’t grant the wish unless I’m paid in gold.” She turns away from me, from the paper boat I still hold outstretched before her.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper. “You’re a goddess of mothers. Of children. With or without gold, you should want to answer her prayer.”

“Don’t be foolish, girl. Nothing in this world is ever freely given.”

Tears spring unbidden to my eyes. “She was by the bank of a stream. She was crying. And all the hope that she had she poured into a wish to you. She believed in you. What more could you want?”

The goddess doesn’t even blink. She stares at me, as if I’m the one who should be pitied. As if I’m the one who doesn’t understand.

Shin throws a string of gold coins onto the table. She snatches the coins up, and they disappear into the sleeve of her dress.

Reaching out, the goddess plucks the paper boat from my feeble grasp. I watch as her hands run along the paper, her nails scratching the charcoal ink.