Cheong stands abruptly, eyes widening. “To the village?”
“To our home! He’s right outside the gate.”
Time seems to slow. Cheong’s and Joon’s excited voices become incoherent murmurs. Cheong rushes to tell my grandmother and Soojin, while Joon runs into the garden to get Sung. I look down to see the bean sprout I’ve been holding is now crushed in the palm of my hand.
We gather in the small courtyard of our house. Sung and Soojin holding Mirae at the head, then Joon and Cheong, then my grandmother, and, lastly, me.
Our servant, an elderly woman we hired after Mirae was born, opens the doors. The emperor strides through our small wooden gate. I try to see the Sea God in him, that scared, sorrowful boy, but he’s no longer there. This man with his straight back and proud stance is like the young man from the memory, the one who faced death on a desolate cliffside and made a wish to live. He sweeps his gaze over us. His eyes meet mine, and I immediately lower my head.
I hear Sung approach him. “Your Majesty. You honor us with your presence.”
When the emperor doesn’t speak, Sung says tentatively, “May I offer you some refreshment?”
“No,” the emperor says, and even his voice sounds different, deeper and more commanding. “Please introduce me to your family.”
Sung hesitates for only a moment. “This is my wife, and my daughter.”
I can hear the tread of their boots. “My brother and his wife, Shim Cheong. You might have heard—”
The emperor must make a sign of impatience because they move down the line. “My grandmother,” Sung says.
They stop before me. “And my sister.”
I look down at the emperor’s shoes.
“What is your name?”
I swallow thickly. Why is he here? He should have no memories of me. I am a stranger to him. His hand takes my chin and lifts my face.
“Your Majesty,” I say. “My name is Mina. I am the daughter of the Song family.”
“Mina,” the emperor says, in that deep, unfamiliar voice. “Will you walk with me? Perhaps, in your garden?”
I look to my family, who all stare at me with wide eyes. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
We head into the garden, his back to me. He’s different from my Sea God. He has broader shoulders and a warrior’s height. He wears a sword at his side, and his hair is longer. A strange longing for my Sea God builds inside me. I realize—he no longer exists. The thought brings me to tears.
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.