I look to my body to see the Red String of Fate is no longer tied to my hand. I remember the way the string flickered into nothing. The fox goddess said that it could only be severed if either Shin or I should die.
Did I … die, as I lay bleeding by the lake? But if I’m dead, my spirit should be in the river, not here floating beside my body …
I drift out the window. A beautiful rainbow arcs through the sky. Distracted, my soul flies upward. I wonder, if I soared high enough, could I breach the heavens?
There’s a tickle in my ear, and then Dai’s voice. “Don’t go so far away, Mina. If you go too far, you won’t be able to come back.”
I turn and float back to the small room.
Namgi and Kirin are no longer with me. Dai now sits beside my body, Miki in his lap.
“The storms have stopped,” he says. “There’s a feeling in the air, as if they’ve stopped forever.”
I float to Dai’s side, gazing down at his face. His wounds from the Imugi attack are mostly healed; the bruises are not as dark as they were before, and his face has regained its color. Miki whimpers as she watches my sleeping form, her little fist against her mouth.
“Don’t worry, Miki,” Dai says. “Mina will be all right. She’ll wake up when she’s ready.”
I glance out the window to see it’s now dusk. Time seems to work strangely in this in-between state. When I look back, Dai and Miki are gone.
The door slides open. Namgi steps into the room. He pauses by the door and I float to stand beside him, peering at the room. Besides the cabinet and the paper screen, there are several more pieces of furniture in the room: a chest for my clothes, a small table and mirror for my hair ornaments. The low shelf beneath the window is cluttered with items I’ve scavenged from the gardens—dried flowers, pebbles, and acorns. On the shelf beneath the window the paper boat floats in a shallow bowl of water.
“This room was empty before,” Namgi says. “And then you filled it with all these things. Is that a good metaphor for how you’ve filled all our lives?”
Slowly, he moves across the room. “If you were awake, you would tease me. Namgi, you would say, how clever you are.” He pauses at my bedside, peering at my still face. “I really thought you’d wake for that one.”
Taking the blankets, he raises them to my chin, then leans down to kiss me on the brow. “Sleep well, my friend, though not for too long. Some of us are not as strong as you are.”
I frown. What does he mean? But then my mind fogs, and time seems to slip away from me. Morning sunlight pierces the room the next time I become aware of my surroundings.
I’m surprised to find Kirin at my bedside. He holds a cool cloth to my forehead, a furrow between his brows. Even when I’m asleep, he’s displeased with me. I sigh, wishing to fly away from his disappointment. But then he puts aside the cloth and stands, moving to the other side of the pallet. He hesitates, then steps into the direct path of sunlight that is shining brightly onto my face.
I float over to the side of my body to see what he was frowning at. There’s sweat on my brow.
I don’t know how long Kirin stands there, watching over me without a word, his body blocking the sunlight.
He doesn’t move until there’s a knock on the door; his head turns toward the sound.
The fog from before rises up again, darker, more menacing, and I drift into a void. It’s an inescapable nothingness. A place without time or meaning, just an aching in my heart that I’m dying, and there’s nothing I can do to save myself.
The next time I come back, it’s full night, and Shin is beside me. The room is dark, the moon hidden beneath clouds.
“I killed the assassin,” he says, his eyes in shadow. I frown at the way his voice sounds, flat, empty. “I dragged him through the streets. He was begging for me to spare his life. He was in terrible agony. Yet he hurt you, and for that, I knew no pain would be too great.”
He stops speaking. I move closer, needing to see his eyes through the shadows.
“But when I arrived at the river, I realized none of it mattered. It was raining, and you were dying…” Slowly, he reaches out and takes my limp wrist in his hand, lowering his head until his forehead rests against it. “The fox goddess said the Red String of Fate would break if one of us should die. Like a fool, I took her words plainly.” He sucks in a harsh breath. “I should rejoice that it’s gone and I’m still alive. But strange, Mina, why do I feel like this? I don’t need a Red String of Fate to tell me that if you should die, so will I.”