The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea(77)

The emperor turns. He’s silent as he watches me cry. I expect to see confusion, or perhaps disgust, on his features. But he looks … almost relieved, as if my tears prove to him a doubt in his mind.

“Mina, I apologize for coming to you like this. I realize this must be very … unexpected. I just—I needed to see you. The truth is…” I can see the apple in his throat moving. He’s nervous. “The truth is that I dream of you.”

I blink. “You … what?”

“I have nightmares. A memory of … of loneliness. Of a terrible helplessness against an overwhelming fate. The only constant is you. You’re in all my dreams. Showing me the way out of the darkness.”

The emperor takes my hand and lifts it to his mouth. His lips are warm against my skin. His eyes, when they find mine, are like the Sea God’s. Like my Sea God, that lost boy, who until this moment, I didn’t know I missed so powerfully. “Will you marry me, Mina? Will you be my bride?”



* * *



Later in the evening, Joon and I walk through the garden. In the past year, we haven’t had much time to spend together, just the two of us. Joon has a family now, with Shim Cheong, and her father, and someday children, if they’re so blessed. And although I will always be in his heart, he must think of them first. As he should.

Joon sighs. “I can’t believe the emperor is here. In our house. And that he wants to marry you.”

“It is … quite unbelievable,” I say.

He nudges me with his shoulder. “And you told him, ‘Let me have the night to consider.’ My sister, telling the emperor of our country that she will consider his proposal.”

Joon chuckles, adding beneath his breath, “I will admit, though. I feel bad for the eldest Kim boy.”

We head to the pond, leisurely walking around the border. We’re both quiet, lost in our thoughts. The ducks swim lazily in circles. When a cloud passes over the moon, I yawn. “Let’s go inside.”

“Wait,” Joon says, calling me back. There’s a troubled expression on his face.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I won’t make any rash decisions. I will either choose to marry the emperor, or I won’t. Nothing or no one can force me.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not that…” He looks at the ducks on the pond. “I guess most brothers would be happy to have an empress for a sister. And I am happy for you. Or at least, I would be if…” He turns from the pond to look at me, his eyes searching.

“What are you saying, Joon?”

“This past year, ever since…”

I look away, and he doesn’t finish the sentence.

“You try to hide it,” he says softly, “but it’s as if you’re drifting away from us. Mina, I just … I want you to be happy. Will he make you happy?”

“You make me happy. The ducks in the pond make me happy. The clear skies, the calm sea, the lasting peace. All of this makes me happy.”

“If you’re happy, then why are you crying?”

I press my hands to my eyes, and they come away wet. “I don’t know. I cry a lot, I think. I have weak eyes.”

My brother wraps his arms around me. “Or a strong heart.”

I bury my face against his shoulder, the tears endless, the pain unbearable.



* * *



Late at night, I make my way to the beach. There are dark clouds over the water. A storm far out at sea. In the past year, there have been numerous storms, each as harmless as the last. They bring rainfall for the crops and keep our rivers and streambeds filled. And the gods are thanked and loved by the people, the Sea God most of all.

Wait for me, he said, where the land meets the sea.

But I have waited for you, every day for a year, and you haven’t come. What am I to do? How can I go on, waiting like this, when I know you will never come?

We are separated by distance, by worlds. By memory.

“Shin.” His name is a prayer, a plea.

I turn from the sea and retrace the steps back home, where I lie on my pallet with tears in my eyes, only to wake hours later to the clanking of drums and the whistling of a bamboo flute. The Sea God’s festival has begun.





36


In the morning, the children rush to the village stream, placing their boats upon the water. Then comes a full day of festival games, music, food, and laughter. Cheong and I stop to watch a talented performer sing the story of “The Sea God’s Bride” to a rapt audience, accompanied by a skilled drummer. I’m surprised to find that the story she tells shares many similarities to the one I told the Sea God in the hall, which makes me wonder how much of storytelling is embedded in the land and its people, a consciousness that we all believe in and share.

Cheong and I explore the merchant stalls, where she purchases a block of honey on a stick for Mirae and roasted chestnuts to split between us. After some time, however, I start to notice something peculiar. For once the people we pass on the streets, even the elegant and aloof nobles, seem to overlook Shim Cheong entirely. Instead, they all seem to be staring—quite openly—at me.

Cheong stops one of the village children. Immediately I recognize her as Nari’s young cousin, Mari.

“What’s going on?” she demands. “Why is everyone staring at Mina? Tell us quick!”