The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea(40)

A chill sweeps through me. I know this boat.

I was the one who found the paper for it, pressing it against my lips as I whispered my prayer into the cool sheet. I was the one who folded it with trembling hands.

It’s my boat, the one with my wish. Not any of the childish wishes I made at the paper boat festival, but another one. One I never set upon the river.

I rush forward, wading into the pond.

“Mina!” Shin shouts from behind me.

I don’t listen, too intent on reaching the boat. I make a grab for it. My foot snags on an upturned tree root. Flailing, I go under.

I come out a half second later, spewing water, looking around, only to find an empty pond.

The boat is gone. Did I imagine it? My guilt dredging up the memory of a prayer?

Soaked, I slog my way back to shore. I’m prepared to get an earful from Shin, who in all likelihood is furious with me for doing something even I can admit was reckless. But when I look up, I almost fall back into the water.

Lying on the grass before me is the dragon, and beside the dragon is the Sea God.

The dragon curls its body protectively around the sleeping god, resting its enormous horned head beside the boy’s. Its large whiskers tangle with the Sea God’s soft hair, and when the dragon lets out a huff of breath, the boy’s hair rises, caught in the warm breeze.

The dragon’s eyes are open, watching me, sea dark and bright with intelligence. I take a tentative step out of the water, warily anticipating any sudden movements made by the dragon, but like a giant cat, it seems content to just lie there. I approach slowly, waiting for the moment when the dragon decides to devour me whole.

I must be hesitating too long, because the dragon begins to growl low in its throat. The pebbles tremble beneath my feet. The dragon’s eyes flit between me and the Sea God, impatient. Demanding. If anything, the dragon seems to be urging me toward the Sea God. I take the last few steps, and with one quick glance at the dragon, I lay my hand on the boy-god’s. As before, I’m drawn into a blinding light.



* * *



The first thing I notice is that I’m still in the garden, though now it’s shrouded in mist, as when I first woke in the Spirit Realm.

The second—

“Shin!” He’s lying, facedown and unmoving, at the edge of the pond. I scramble forward, falling to my knees beside him. I turn him over and trail my fingers over his lips. Relief washes over me when I feel the warmth of his breath. Though, had I taken a moment, I’d have seen the Red String of Fate, bright in the mist, and known he was unharmed. As long as the string remains intact, both of us are safe, our lives tethered to each other.

Easing his body off the ground, I cradle him in my lap.

“He’s all right, you know. He’s only sleeping.”

I look up. Before me stands the Sea God. The luxurious folds of his robes soak up the water in the muddied bank. He doesn’t seem to notice. Behind him the mist has thinned, and I can make out the shadow of the dragon within.

The Sea God’s gaze shifts from Shin to me. “My soul tells me you are my bride.”

I blink in surprise.

“You are suitable.” He tilts his head to the side, dark hair falling across deep-lashed eyes. “I like the way you look. Your hair is like the warm bark of trees, and your eyes are like the sea at night. I can see the moon in them. Two moons. Two seas at night.”

I swallow thickly, unsure what to say. This is the first time we’ve spoken. “You are very romantic, Sea God.”

“Not really,” he says. Turning from me, he walks to the edge of the pond. He places one slender finger into the pond, and ripples splinter across the water. “Just lonely.”

I don’t know where to begin. Just as in the throne room, I’m struck with an overwhelming feeling of protectiveness for this boy, caught in nightmares and shrouded in sorrow. It doesn’t seem right to start making demands of him. Save my people. End the storms. Wake up and be as you once were, whole and happy.

In my lap, Shin groans, though his eyes remain closed. Gently I sweep his hair to the side from where it’s plastered to his brow.

“He’s fighting it,” the Sea God says. “He wants to wake.”

I look to the boy-god, torn between staying in this moment with him and helping Shin. Somehow I know even now time is running out, and soon the boy and the dragon will disappear, and I’ll be forced out of the dream.

“You could tell him a story,” the boy-god says.

My heart stills. A story? Convincing a god to wake after a hundred years seems impossible, but a story I can tell. I’ve told hundreds of stories to my brothers and the village children. A story for the Sea God, and for Shin. But which one should I choose?

Shin shifts in my lap. My eyes drift from him to the Sea God and back, lingering on Shin.

Shin, who protects the Sea God from those who would harm him, even as he resents the god for abandoning him, and the story comes to me, as if it were waiting all along.

Taking a deep breath, I begin. “Once upon a time, there were two brothers. The younger brother was poor and lived in a shack, but he was kindhearted and good, while the older brother lived in a large house and was rich, but he was cruel and filled with greed.

“One morning, the younger brother heard a pitiful sound echoing through the wood. He followed the sound, finding a baby swallow that had fallen from its nest, crying out in pain from its wounded wing. Taking the swallow back to his home, the younger brother rubbed medicine into the swallow’s joints and made a little cast from sticks and string to keep the wing from bending. He then placed the swallow back into its nest, and when winter came, it flew away to the south.