Free Silvern (The Gilded Series) by Christina Farley Page A

and my heart sinks thinking about it. What if Dad says no to the North Korea trip? It could ruin everything.
    In my bedroom, I tape the butterfly next to the fish on the top of my laptop, tracing my finger around the paper edges. Then I pull out my horn bow case, get the bare essentials that I’ll need for an afternoon of target shooting, and stuff them into my backpack. Dad got me a membership at the Pavilion of the Yellow Stork after we got complaints about me shooting in the basement, but it’s been over a week since I practiced my bow-and-arrow shooting.
    Before I leave the apartment, I check the balcony one more time. The rope I have coiled up and tied to the pole is neatly hidden beneath the porch chair. After having to climb down like I did last time, I like having a better option. I double-check the knots, because one thing I have learned along the way: it’s good to be prepared.
    Since the archery center is located near downtown Gwanghwamun, it’s a short city bus ride and then a hike up the hill. There’s something so real and alive about springtime in Seoul. Winter is harsh and bitter, but spring breathes hope and possibilities.
    The archery center is located halfway up the mountain, in a traditional wooden building that overlooks the forest below. You’d never know we were in the center of a city of over ten million people.
    I bow to Master Ahn as I enter the main building of the Pavilion of the Yellow Stork. After I slide off my shoes, I set my case on the floor and pull out my bow. I run my fingers along the dragon image carved into the handle. Grandfather gave me this bow. I have no idea how old it must be, but it’s lasted centuries. It even survived the massive fire in Grandfather’s cave. This is the weapon that helped me defeat Haemosu.
    “Miss Lee,” Master Ahn says. “Will you practice here or on the hillside?”
    I start at his voice and find my face burning. “Um, outside.”
    “Do you wish to bend your bow?” he asks.
    Most people come here to work their bows under the fire. It’s the traditional method for keeping wooden bows in proper working order. I wonder if I should tell him that my bow never needs correction. It never needs new strings either, because magic runs through its sinews.
    No, telling him would be a very bad idea. I smile. “I already did it at home. I have my own burner.”
    “Of course.” He nods and gives my bow a quick glance before he attends to some Japanese tourists coming in loaded with cameras and questions.
    I tie my goong dae to my waist, fill it with five arrows, and snap my case closed before heading outside. It’s a short stroll to the top of the hill where the large archery range is located. Cherry trees line the road. Their petals spin and swirl around me like snowflakes. I lift my hand and catch one. It settles into my palm.
    Lily says if you catch a cherry blossom and make a wish as you blow it away, it’ll come true. But what to wish for? My heart feels torn. Do I wish for Komo’s health? For Kud to be out of my life and everything from the Spirit World to forget about my existence? For Marc and me never to be separated? To be closer to Dad? To hold Mom’s hand in mine one more time and feel her warmth?
    I clench the petal into my fist and hurry up the road. From the corner of my eye, I notice, at the top of the hill next to the pagoda, the light almost shimmers, wavering like a mirage in a desert. I blink and it’s gone. A couple of people are shooting, their packs lying on the table in the pagoda. I let my pack slide off my shoulders, rest it on the table, and set my bow on top of it.
    Slowly, I inch closer to the waving light, studying it. The scene through the trees looks totally different from where I’m standing. Wide, open fields roll out before me like a desert. The grass is brown, and the trees scattered about the hills lie barren, stark and lifeless. Two jagged peaks rise up in the distance, with clouds curling through them.
    Sweat