She turns from the lake. “Enough lingering. Come, Mina. We’re close.”
So Shin was telling the truth, back in the Sea God’s hall. He severed the Red String of Fate to protect the Sea God from those who might seek to replace the god in power. In anyone else, such a show of loyalty would be considered honorable. My chest tightens with an unwelcome sensation at the thought of the dark-eyed lord.
Turning from the lake, I climb down the opposite side of the hill, where Nari has already disappeared into a copse of trees. I find her crouched down behind a low bush, peering over the edge at a clearing.
“The pond is just on the other side of this building.” She nods toward a large open-wall pagoda, spilling light onto the wet grass. I can see the shapes of people inside, seated around low tables. From the sounds of laughter and porcelain cups clinking together, they must be drinking.
I look past the pagoda to the trees; somewhere beyond them lies the pond, the pavilion, and my voice.
“We have the advantage of darkness,” Nari says. “You go first. They’ll take little notice of a servant. Are you ready?”
I check the back of my mask to make sure it’s secure around my mouth, then step onto the path. We might be in full view of the pagoda, but it’s dark out, and the people inside are more interested in their entertainment. A musician taps a rhythmic beat on a drum as a clown in a bridal mask—a mask painted white with bright red circles on its cheeks—tumbles in and around the tables, as if caught in the swell of a great wave.
I hurry past the pagoda toward the shadows of the forest on the other side. The trees loom up before me, a dense thicket with a small path trailing into darkness. My steps falter at the sight of it, but then I take a deep breath, grabbing my skirt to run.
“Wait!”
I recognize the voice. An image flashes through my mind from only a few hours earlier. Curly hair. A crooked smile. Are you a bride or are you a bird?
Namgi.
8
I bring my fingers to my face to ensure the mask covers my nose and mouth and gauge the distance between myself and the tree line. Namgi’s footsteps crunch as he approaches; a pebble skitters ahead of him, tapping the heel of my slipper.
“We’ve gone through all the wine-spirits,” he says, his low, rough voice slurred. Clearly he thinks I’m a servant. “A pitcher or two more should—”
His cheerful tone falters. “Why are you going that way? There is nothing for you over there.”
I can’t respond—I have no voice! And even if I did, what would I say? I bow slightly, casting my eyes to the ground. His shadow is almost upon mine. Inwardly, I curse.
“Lord Namgi!” Nari calls out in a loud, confident voice. “Let the girl alone. She has her own tasks to complete without the burden of completing yours.”
There’s a short pause as I neither move nor breathe. Then Namgi chuckles, his voice receding as he turns to Nari. “Your barbed tongue never disappoints.”
“You can go, girl,” Nari says in that same assured manner. “Never mind his lordship’s drunken ramblings.”
I seize the opening Nari provided and walk away with purpose.
“Am I drunk?” I can hear Namgi’s voice as I slip between the trees. “I can never tell. The world looks the same to me drunk as it does sober.”
“Let’s test this theory,” Nari quips. “Shall we wager on a game of cards?”
Leaving the pagoda behind, I travel deeper into the forest, the heady triumph of my escape dimming the farther I walk, the path before me dark and winding. Unlike at the servants’ quarters or the pavilion beside the lake, the trees here are numerous; their thick canopies block out the moonlight. An eerie silence hangs over the forest, and I’m tempted to turn back, if only to hear the sounds of voices again.
When I was a child, I lost my way in the great forest that lies beyond our village. I had been following Joon and Nari when, glimpsing a fox, I wandered off the path. I roamed for hours, finally taking shelter in the roots of a large camphor tree. I sat, curled up with my knees to my chest, and sobbed heartily, afraid I would be lost in the forest forever—or worse, eaten by a demon.
I don’t remember how I eventually got out of the forest, whether I was found or whether I discovered a way out myself. I must have been five or six years old, and yet the memory is hidden from me, veiled in mist, as if my mind were protecting me from some greater hurt. All I remember is the fear.
A light appears out of the darkness, winking through the trees. With relief, I follow it until I reach the edge of the forest. The pavilion is just as Nari described it, on an island at the center of a pond, accessible only by a narrow wooden bridge. The winking light comes from a lantern held by a single figure making his slow way across the bridge. Immediately I recognize the bearer of the lantern. The Goddess of Fortune laughs at me tonight.