Page 17

CHAPTER 17

REN

West of the Haebaek Mountains

Occupied Territories

REN FELT ANOTHER tremor go through Sunho’s body; she gripped his hand even tighter.

He’d been ready to kill all of them . She didn’t know how , as it seemed impossible—their attackers were armed, surrounding them on all sides—and yet, the Light within her had flared in response to a presence, something inside him. She didn’t have time to think of what that could mean. All she knew was that if the fight continued, something terrible would happen.

The archer drew back his bowstring.

“Wait!” Ren shouted, her heart beating rapidly as her mind raced to catch up. “You’ve clearly mistaken us for something we’re not.”

The man beside the archer—presumably the leader, from the way the others deferred to him—raised his hand. The archer lowered his bow. “And what are you, if not Sareniyans?”

“I’m Hwi,” Ren said, the lie falling easily off her tongue. “I’m an acrobat, and this is Sunho. He’s a sword dancer.” They weren’t entirely falsehoods. She’d forsaken Sareniya as her homeland, and Sunho did have a sword. “We’re troupe performers, on our way to Seorawon.”

Though her body still thrummed with adrenaline, she found that she could think more clearly now that they weren’t being immediately threatened. She studied their assailants. They didn’t appear to be mercenaries like those on the train Sunho had spoken of—otherwise they wouldn’t have stopped their assault. And they weren’t Sareniyans.

Their clothing was worn, which meant they weren’t warriors. Villagers, then?

“They’re only kids,” a voice spoke from behind them. Ren eyed the swordswoman who’d grappled with Sunho earlier, her scarf now pulled down from her face.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” groused the archer, who appeared to be the youngest in the group. “Sareniyans have no qualms about using children in their army.”

“Fine, cut them down,” the swordswoman said, though she wasn’t speaking to the young archer, but to the leader. “Then see if you can face your own children when it’s finally time to return home.”

Sensing imminent victory, Ren let herself relax.

“I hope I don’t come to regret this,” the leader said with a sigh. “Take their weapons. Search them thoroughly.”

Ren squeezed Sunho’s hand before letting go. The presence from earlier had disappeared. It had felt like a shadow—no, that wasn’t quite right, as it wasn’t visible. She realized she’d felt it before, back at the cottage, when she’d removed Sunho’s clothes to clean his wound. She’d chalked it up to her own fatigue and to the shock of her circumstances then.

The woman approached Ren to take her satchel, distracting her from her thoughts. Ren relinquished her umbrella and paper fan. As the swordswoman rifled through her belongings, Ren observed Sunho and the archer. The older boy snagged Sunho’s sword from his grasp, sheathing the blade in its carrying bag, then tossing it over his own shoulder.

“Where are your things?” the archer sneered.

Ren stiffened. As troupe performers, and travelers, they should both have possessions; tools of their trade and provisions.

“He lost his bag,” she answered for Sunho quickly. “We were beset by thieves on the road.” Her explanation seemed to placate the archer—he grunted, continuing his search. Unlike the swordswoman—who, after finishing with Ren’s bag, had stood to pat down Ren’s arms and legs—the older boy wasn’t as gentle.

Sunho winced when the archer struck his side. Ren felt her blood run hot and had to stop herself from leaping at the boy. She couldn’t draw attention to Sunho’s wound, as that would be difficult to explain.

From within the right inner pocket of Sunho’s robe, the archer pulled out a long string of coins.

The swordswoman, raising a brow, stopped her search of Ren. For half a second, no one spoke, then the archer hissed, “The thieves didn’t take this ?”

Ren didn’t think. She threw herself to the ground. “You’ve figured us out, all right?” she howled, pulling at her hair. “We’re running away together. We heard Seorawon was a place where you can go if you wish to disappear, where you can be anyone you want to be. You’re just like my parents, stopping true love!”

“Hey, quit that!” The archer grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. She was surprised to see a flush spreading across his cheeks, as if the thought of romance embarrassed him.

“Why are you wearing that mask?” he said, his eyes narrowing. “What are you trying to hide?”

“My face, Oh Smart One. Something you should consider.”

She thought, briefly, that perhaps she shouldn’t antagonize him, but she was still upset over the way he’d treated Sunho.

With a growl, the archer grabbed the front of her jacket, pulling her forcefully toward him. “Someone should teach you a lesson.”

“Let her go.”

Ren’s breath hitched. Sunho’s hand was circled around the older boy’s wrist. Neither of them had seen him move. When the archer tried to break Sunho’s hold, throwing his hand downward, Sunho only tightened his fingers. The boy yelped. “Fine, fine!”

It wasn’t until the archer let go of Ren that Sunho released him.

Scowling, he rubbed his wrist. “Why does she wear the mask, anyway? Is she ugly?”

Ren was about to hurl more insults, but Sunho spoke first. “It doesn’t matter why she wears the mask. It’s her decision, so you should respect it.”

From the corner of her eye, Ren saw the woman nod approvingly.

“And…” Sunho’s gaze swept toward Ren. “She’s beautiful.”

Now it was Ren’s turn to blush to the tips of her ears. She’d come up with the farce because it seemed the only plausible explanation as to why they were traveling alone, and hoped that Sunho would play along. But she didn’t know he’d do it so well .

A loud guffaw burst from the center of the clearing where the leader sat beside a makeshift campfire that the others in his group must have built. “Come. Enough bickering. Leave the young lovers alone, Jinyoung. Let’s share a meal and some much-needed entertainment. Troupe performers, you said?”

“That’s right!” Ren grabbed her belongings, hurrying over.

A few seconds later, Sunho joined her; his shoulder brushed hers as he sat down. She was distracted by one of the leader’s men, who was ladling generous portions of broth into wooden bowls from a large cookpot by the fire. The cook offered her the first bowl, which she accepted eagerly. Sliding the mask up so that it covered only her eyes and nose, she brought the bowl to her mouth. The broth was spiced with red pepper flakes, with pieces of wild onions and chunks of carrots. She gobbled up the contents of the bowl, licking her lips. When she lowered the mask, she glimpsed Sunho’s gaze upon her before he turned away to accept his own serving of broth.

When everyone had eaten their fill, the leader clapped his hands together. “Well, how about some entertainment? The boy first. Sword dancing, you said?”

Ren blanched, racking her brain for excuses as to why she should be the only one to perform.

Sunho rose to his feet. “My sword,” he said to the archer, Jinyoung, who scowled upon hearing his request.

Ren gaped at Sunho, though of course he couldn’t tell.

“How do I know you won’t try to gut us where we sit?” Jinyoung demanded.

“Oh, give the boy his sword,” the cook chided, perhaps having developed a liking for the two of them after they’d partaken so heartily of his humble meal.

The archer tossed Sunho’s sword back to him. He caught it, unsheathing the blade from its scabbard.

“I almost forgot. You’ll need music,” the leader said, further surprising Ren when he produced a flute from within his tattered coat. His thick fingers pressed delicately upon the carved holes as he blew into the mouthpiece. A melody like a slow wind drifted over the fire.

Ren’s heart stirred. She shifted her gaze to Sunho, where he stood with his eyes closed, gripping his sword with two hands. Slowly he slid his foot forward in the grass, bringing his sword down across his body. Then, in a smooth motion, he whipped around, thrusting it up, past his shoulder. He continued in this way, the music dictating his speed. He wasn’t quite dancing , yet his movements were graceful, controlled.

Ren was mesmerized. Her heartbeat, which had drummed in panic over their discovery, now raced for another reason entirely.

The firelight played across his features, his straight brow and nose, his eyes, half-lidded, his eyelashes that swept across the curve of his cheeks.

He was coming out of a difficult sequence of movements when she realized the song had ended. The group of villagers clapped, even Jinyoung, albeit begrudgingly.

Sunho sheathed his sword, giving it back to the archer before returning to his place beside Ren.

She shifted closer to him. “Sunho, that was…”

He turned to her. It brought their faces within inches of each other. Her eyes widened, and from this distance, he could likely see them, behind the mask.

Neither of them moved.

He was looking directly at her. As he stared, a slight frown appeared on his face. Earlier he’d seen her mouth, and now her eyes. Was he putting together the puzzle of her, matching the pieces to the drawing he’d seen? She knew the drawing must be a rendering of how she’d looked when she was a child, perhaps combined with how her mother had looked when she was Ren’s age.

What would he do if he discovered the truth of who she was?

“Thank you,” she said softly. She was grateful to him, for being someone she could rely on, and for baring himself in a way that was likely uncomfortable for him. In their short acquaintance, she sensed he had a quiet soul. What he’d just done, putting himself before the scrutiny of others, must have been difficult for him.

She didn’t think he would reply. But then she felt a presence, the same as before—yet she was unafraid. There was nothing visible in the air, so she closed her eyes. There. She could see it clearer—a darkness, reaching out from him toward her. The darkness wasn’t frightening, but… soothing. Like the shade beneath a great tree on a hot summer’s day or the darkness between stars. She held her breath as it inched closer and closer.

And for the briefest of moments, she felt the gentlest of caresses, as if the back of his hand brushed against the curve of her cheek.

“Oh, to be young and in love again,” the leader said with a sigh. Ren’s eyes shot open. She backed away, glad for the mask that hid her blush. Sunho also turned away, bringing his hand to his mouth.

“That was a long time ago for you, that’s for sure!” the swordswoman cackled.

“If that’s love, I’d rather never experience it,” Jinyoung grunted. “It’s nauseating.”

“Whose family was it that was against your being together?” the swordswoman asked.

“It was hers,” Sunho said, before Ren could answer.

“What do they have against you?” the woman said. “A handsome boy like yourself?”

The swordswoman had a point. Little Uncle would accept Sunho, just for that. And Big Uncle would have approved of anyone whom Ren chose herself. As for Auntie, Ren didn’t know what she’d think of Sunho. She never begrudged Little Uncle his lovers, but Ren had a feeling it would be different for her…

“I have no family.”

Ren glanced at Sunho, though his gaze remained turned from her.

The villagers all nodded in understanding. A family came with protection, connections. To not have a family was to be truly destitute.

The leader tucked his flute away. Sitting cross-legged, he placed his hands on his knees. “I think one more bout of entertainment should suffice as a fair exchange for our hospitality and letting you walk free with your lives intact!”

Ren grimaced.

“Perhaps a story?”

She straightened her back. Finally , a task to which she could put her particular skills to use. “What sort would you like? A story of revenge? Redemption? Perhaps a moral tale?”

“The one that’s most famous in this part of the world,” the leader said. “‘The Woodcutter and the Celestial Maiden.’”

Ren’s mouth went dry. “But you must have heard it many times already. Why that one?” As the leader said, it was a well-known tale, even outside Sareniya.

“It’s been on my mind, as of late. All of ours.” He looked around the circle at his companions. “You might have guessed, but none of us are warriors, nor do we hail from the same homelands. The lands from which we came are now part of the Occupied Territories, ceded to the empire almost ten years ago. We’re outlaws, on the run for one reason or another, united by the common cause of survival and a desire for justice.

“I’d stolen a bag of rice for my children after our lands were razed,” the leader said. “After being sentenced to death, I fled. Binna here wouldn’t give up her daughter to her village’s lecherous overseer.” He nodded at the swordswoman, who lifted her head, a defiant gleam in her eyes. “Jinyoung refused to fight in a war he didn’t believe in. The others have similar stories. Sareniya, for all her beauty, casts the longest of shadows.

“That tale is sacred to the Sareniyans. Mayhap there’s something within that can explain why we’re here in a dark forest, far away from our homes.”

Ren swept her gaze around the circle, lingering on each person. If she could, she would have avoided telling this story; it reminded her too much of the past. But she owed it to them to tell it—not because they were letting Sunho and her walk free, as the leader had said, but because even if she wasn’t directly responsible for their many hardships, the acts that the leader described were being done in her name.

Sareniya… It was her legacy, and would have been her destiny had not the events of that fateful night occurred.

She closed her eyes, recalling the cadence of Auntie’s voice as she had sat by Little Uncle’s bedside. Her words had risen and fallen, as if they were a tide, calling him back to shore.

“A long time ago, there was a woodcutter who lived by a forest. One morning, while he was out hunting, he caught sight of a deer swiftly running between the trees.”

Ren told of how the woodcutter shot the deer with an arrow, only for it to speak to him, revealing the location of a pool beside a waterfall where celestial maidens came down from the sky to bathe.

“Having gone there, he stole the wings of the youngest and most beautiful of the maidens.”

She paused, remembering that this was the point in the story when she’d interrupted Auntie.

“And?” Jinyoung asked with a scowl, upset that he was so captured by the tale. “What happened next?”

“The woodcutter brought the celestial maiden to his home,” Ren continued. “She had no choice but to go with him, for she was alone. Together, they had two children, and for a time, they were happy. But as the years passed, the celestial maiden longed for her wings and the freedom they once gave her.

“The woodcutter, having fallen in love with her, decided to trust that she would choose to stay with him, even with her wings. And so one night, he retrieved them from the place where he’d hidden them years ago. The moment he gave them back to her, she grabbed her children and, without looking back, flew home to the Floating World.”

Ren sat back, the story finished. She felt a sudden rush of lightheadedness and swayed. Sunho caught her, his hand secure around her shoulder.

“So?” Jinyoung said after a lengthy pause. “She didn’t love him?”

“You think of the woodcutter,” Binna said. “But what of the maiden, who finally returned to the home that was stolen from her?”

“Both can be true,” the leader said. “She could love the woodcutter and still long for her home. Oh, but the story has you fired up! This is what makes the Sareniyans so powerful. It’s not just their might or their world in the sky. It’s the myths surrounding them. Their rulers are descendants of a celestial maiden.”

“Not any longer,” Binna said. “The celestial maiden and her heir perished in that storm ten years ago. It’s the general of the Sareniyan army that controls the Floating World now.”

“And so he does,” the leader said solemnly, “with every one of his actions sanctioned by the Floating Council. Perhaps that is the truth that can be gleaned from this story, like the woodcutter who stole the wings of the maiden: The general stole her world.”

Ren felt cold inside, like she’d swallowed a shard of ice that was now caught in her chest. Usually after finishing a story, Ren felt invigorated. Tonight, she felt tired and small.

“We’ve exhausted our young guests,” the leader said, “and after they’ve entertained us so thoroughly. We should all sleep. Jinyoung, bring the ponies closer to the fire.”

Soon, the flames burned low, and the outlaws settled down for the night, with two standing guard for the first watch. Sunho and Ren were left alone on one side of the fire. They’d been given a single blanket to share.

“I’m not cold,” Sunho said, but Ren shook her head. It was late autumn; the nights were chilly.

“I’m fine with sharing, as long as you are,” she said.

She gave him her satchel and he placed it on the ground, then lying on his side, he lifted the blanket. She slipped beneath, at first facing away from him, then turning toward him when that became uncomfortable.

They were meant to be lovers. They were keeping up appearances—that’s what she told herself.

Her head fit snugly against his shoulder. He hesitated briefly before resting his chin atop her head.

There were times, in the past few days, when she’d wanted to remove her mask, especially at night—it scratched her skin and made it difficult to breathe—but never more than tonight.

Since donning her mask, this was the closest she’d come to taking it off, if only to feel the steady beating of his heart.