Free The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea by Axie Oh

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.
    â€œWe’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? Th ere 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.
    â€œLord 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.”
    Th ere’s a short pause as I neither move nor breathe. Th en Namgi chuckles, his voice receding as he turns to Nari. “Your barbed tongue never disappoints.”
    â€œYou 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.
    â€œAm I drunk?” I can hear Namgi’s voice as I slip between the trees. “I can never tell. Th e world looks the same to me drunk as it does sober.”
    â€œLet’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 thetrees. With relief, I follow it until I reach the edge of the forest. Th e pavilion is just as Nari described it, on an island at the center of a pond, accessible only by a narrow wooden bridge. Th e 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. Th e Goddess of Fortune laughs at me tonight.
    I step behind a tree as Kirin draws near. I almost startle when a second figure appears to melt from the darkness to join him—a woman, dressed in the same armor as Nari.
    She bows. “My lord.”
    Kirin acknowledges her with an elegant dip of his head. “Have you any news to report?”
    â€œ Th e guests have all been searched. Nothing of note was discovered but for a few body weapons among the priestesses of Fox House, which we allowed them to keep per Lord Shin’s orders. Most of the guests grumbled but submitted themselves to be searched. Th e lords of Tiger House and Crane House, however, proved … difficult. Th ey protested loudly and accused Lotus House of dishonoring its guests.”
    At this, Kirin growls, “Such insolence should not be allowed. Lord Shin is too