The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea(56)

Shin, Namgi, and Kirin wait for me on the steps of the palace. I’m reminded of the first night when they stood before me in the Sea God’s hall. Enemies. Strangers. Shin appeared so distant from me then, just as he appears now.

“Where is Shim Cheong?” I shout to be heard over the lashing rain.

“Shiki offered her shelter at Star House,” Namgi answers. “She’ll be safe there.”

“We have to get out of this storm,” Kirin says.

Shin turns and moves down the stairs. I meet Namgi’s gaze, but he just shakes his head. Is Shin angry with me for rushing out into the fog?

The streets are flooded. The four of us make our way around overturned carts and lantern boats snuffed of their candles. Shin and Kirin lead the way, clearing the path of debris, while Namgi and I follow behind. The water is up to our knees; any higher and we might be in danger of being swept away. Luckily, the current isn’t as strong as it is in the river. I gasp as a body floats by, a woman with her eyes closed, her hands on her stomach as if in slumber. Namgi grasps my shoulders, urging me onward.

Back at Lotus House, Shin leads us to the main pavilion. The first floor is already flooded, so we climb the stairs to the second floor. Everyone is here, all the people who call Lotus House their home. I see my handmaidens, as well as the washerwomen, cooks, and guards. Mask sits on a cushion beside Dai, who holds Miki. Nari is escorting a few older spirits to a corner, plying them with hot tea to warm their bodies. I head over to the balcony. The waters from the lake have risen to lap over the bridges. The only light for miles is from the torches that blaze all around the perimeter. To someone standing in the distance, the pavilion must appear like a candle in a vast sea.

As I press my hand to the railing, something crinkles in my sleeve. I reach inside and remove a paper boat—the one the Goddess of Moon and Memory gave me. The one with Shim Cheong’s wish.

The paper boat feels light in my hands. The folds are neat, the paper smooth. Slowly, I unfold the creases, waiting for the familiar fogginess, the feeling of being pulled into a memory. Nothing happens.

The boat is open. There is only one short sentence written on the paper.

I expect the words to say Let me not marry the Sea God or Let me stay with Joon or End the storms forever, but all that’s written on the paper—in Shim Cheong’s elegant writing—is:

Please let my father live a long and happy life.

I carefully fold the paper boat and place it back into the sleeve of my jacket.

“This storm is unnatural,” Kirin says, addressing everyone in the pavilion. “The river has flooded, and the dead are floating in the streets. Something must be done, and soon.”

“We must send out boats to collect the dead,” Nari insists, “and set them back on their course down the river.”

“Meanwhile,” Namgi adds, “the river must be stopped from flowing into our world. If we can dam the source, we can block the dead from entering.”

“That will mean ghosts in the human world,” Mask says vehemently. “Without vessels to contain them, the restless spirits will haunt the living, spreading dread and panic. More deaths will follow.”

Kirin shakes his head. “It can’t be helped.”

“No,” I say, and everyone turns their attention to me. “All of these solutions are only temporary. The real source of the dead are the storms that steal their lives. They are the cause of everything. They are what we need to stop.”

Namgi looks around the room, then back at me. “I don’t deny the truth of your words, Mina,” he says gently. “But if the Sea God hasn’t ended the storms in a hundred years, what makes you think he’ll end them now?”

A painful throb begins at the base of my skull, making it difficult to shape the thoughts in my head. “At Crane House the other night, Lord Yu shared some knowledge with me.” I’m careful not to look at Shin. “In order to lift the curse upon the Sea God, the bride must form a true fate with him.”

“A true fate?” Namgi frowns. “What do you mean?” I forgot he hadn’t been with Shin and Kirin when they questioned Lord Crane.

“One between soul mates,” I say.

“And you believe you are that bride,” Kirin says. The room is quiet, expectant. I wait for the whispers and looks of derision. Who am I to believe I am the Sea God’s true bride? I am not a great beauty, nor am I particularly skilled in anything.

“It’s possible you are,” Kirin continues, and I startle in surprise. Of all people, I would think him the most doubtful. “Before you, no bride has ever spoken to the Sea God. And though this storm is terrible, it’s a change in a routine that has remained unchanged for a hundred years.”

“The bride who just arrived,” Namgi adds, “Shim Cheong. She didn’t have a Red String of Fate.”

Now the whispers begin, but not like I expected. Spirits turn to one another in excitement, awed by the possibility that the myth of the Sea God’s bride might be fulfilled at last.

“It doesn’t matter,” Shin says, his first words since entering the pavilion, “because you don’t love him.”

The throbbing at the back of my skull intensifies.

“And you’d be a fool to think he could ever love you.”

The room goes silent. I know he’s speaking out of his own hurt, but a painful warmth gathers behind my eyes. And maybe it’s childish of me to flee, but I can’t help it. I rush from the room, spirits moving out of the way to let me pass. I sprint down the flight of stairs to the first floor. The rain lashes my face as I step from the shelter of the pavilion. The water from the lake has climbed halfway up the rise of the hill. I don’t cross the bridge but slip down the grassy bank until my feet touch the water.