I was able to meet Eun-hee for a late breakfast, both of us sitting at ease on our separate chaises. Eun-hee doesn’t approve of sitting at a Scandian-style breakfast table, but she can’t sit on the floor, Eppan style, either. Instead, she sits on a well-padded chair with a specially made cushion behind her back and a small, well-spread table beside her. Most of her guests think it’s an affectation, but the truth is that Eun-hee is usually in too much pain to sit without support.
“Will you walk with Jessamy this morning?” she asked me, leaning back to sip her tea.
“Aniyo,” I said, smiling into my own tea. “Jessamy has something to do. I’ll walk by myself.”
“Don’t go too far, Clovis-a. It was so hard to find you last time!”
“I won’t,” I promised. “Just a little way out in the garden. Are you staying indoors?”
Eun-hee nodded. “Dong-wook-a is bringing me a litter of puppies from the village.”
I stared at her. “A whole litter?”
“Well, I’ll only choose one, but I wanted to pick the nicest one.”
“Poor Dong-wook-a,” I said. “Transporting a whole litter just so you can pick out one.”
“What nonsense,” said Eun-hee. “He loves grubbing around with puppies—it was his idea in the first place. Are you going out now? All right; I’ll come and look for you later if you don’t come back in.”
Thanks to my late sleeping and the leisurely breakfast with Eun-hee, noon was approaching by the time I entered the garden. There was a brief sun shower while I waited pleasantly in the doorway, fighting off a Dream of Jessamy and Ae-jung by watching the sparkling raindrops as they fell. As much as it went against the grain with me, I was trying to give him his privacy in this at least.
When the shower ended I stepped cautiously onto the pebbled path, my feet sinking in the shifting stones. Ahead of me, walking through the trees, was Yong-hwa—looking for Ae-jung, no doubt. That was slightly annoying, but if I took a different path there was no reason for him to see me. I would sit on the bench beneath the budding cherry trees and gaze at the ornamental fountain while Yong-hwa wandered through the winding paths in search of Ae-jung.
I strolled slowly, enjoying the sunshine, until it began to dim around me. At first I thought that clouds had drifted across the sun, but the warmth of it didn’t diminish, and I was beginning to see a scene distinctly different from my present Reality. I grimaced. There was another Dream coming on. No, not another one; the same one. And this time it wasn’t to be driven off by watching rain fall. Very inconvenient, but the garden seat wasn’t far away; if I could just hold it off long enough to reach the safety of that seat, I could sit there for as long as it took. It was a determined Dream, however, tearing aside the Reality of the colourful gardens and Ma Yong-hwa walking slowly through the trees to show me a view of Jessamy and Ae-jung behind one of the hedges.
Ae-jung’s voice said softly through the sound of the wind ruffling my hair, “You’ve been a good friend to me, Jessamy.”
“I don’t—” Jessamy’s voice was louder, but somehow still muted. I would have liked to think it was because I was suppressing the Dream, but it struck me that he sounded scratchy. “I don’t want to be your friend, Ae-jung. I love you.”
Even to my mind, he sounded tearful and injured, as puppylike as I’d ever known him. I expected Ae-jung to vacillate in the face of that sadness, but she said quite firmly, “I’m sorry, Jessamy; I can’t love you. It’s too late. I’m already in love with someone else.”
“I loved you first,” said Jessamy, still in that scratchy voice. There were tears glittering in his eyes. “Can’t you—can’t you—I’ll love you the best, Ae-jung!”
“It’s too late,” said Ae-jung again. There were tears in her eyes now, too. Such a softhearted little thing. “I really am sorry, Jessamy. I never meant for things to happen like this. I have—I have to go. I’ll be needed inside again soon.”
I stopped and swayed, my legs losing strength as my sight fractured, while three Dreams vied for my attention. Ae-jung hurrying through the hedges with her head ducked. Ma Yong-hwa, his stride quickening to intercept her. Jessamy. Jessamy alone in the hedges, crying as if his heart was broken—and it was, I suppose—his face buried in his arm. There was an aching pain in my heart that only Jessamy could evoke, and the Dream grew stronger as my real sight was obscured by it and by Jessamy’s childlike anguish.
A flicker of movement appeared over the hedge behind him, a ball lofted carelessly into the air, and I nudged the Dream a little. A young boy of roughly Jessamy’s age was kicking an inflated bladder high into the air and catching it with either foot in turn.
It’s a good distraction, I thought. I gave up any pretence of command over my own body and threw whatever weight I had at my command directly at the ball. The boy below it gave a muted exclamation of surprise as his ball sailed high over the hedge. On the other side, it plummeted silently, striking Jessamy’s head solidly and knocking him from his seat into the grass. He lay where he was, grimacing comically, his tears forgotten on his cheeks, and pedalled madly with his legs to sit up. He was still sprawling in the grass, his arms draped over his knees, when the other boy peeped over the hedge, holding tightly to the branches that he’d climbed.
“Can I have my ball back, Hyungnim?”
Jessamy screwed up his face and said indignantly, “You hit me!”
“Is that why you’re sitting in the grass?” asked the other, with some interest. “Are you crying? Did it hurt awfully?”
“I’m not crying,” said Jessamy, his lips drawing up to display his teeth. He seized the ball in one hand and hurled it squarely at the intruder, who squawked and disappeared in a frantic flurry of boughs. I could still see him clinging to the hedge on the other side, but Jessamy, who couldn’t, leaped to his feet with a stifled “Aish!”
I gave the faintest of smiles, the motion reminding me of my body far away. Carefully, heavily, I pushed myself far enough away from the Dream to feel the real world around me again—burdensome, hot, and moist. There was grass soft beneath my knees and wet against my palms, a breath of breeze whispering across my face. Moreover, there was a hand gripping each of my shoulders, and I thought I heard a voice saying indistinctly, “Agassi?”
Ma Yong-hwa? Shouldn’t he be intercepting Ae-jung? I said, in carefully even tones, “I’m fine, Ahjussi. I’ll sit here for a little, I think.”
“The grass is wet,” said Yong-hwa, lifting me gently to my feet. I saw the glint of one of his earrings through the sight of Jessamy; then it was gone and all I could see was the Jessamy-Dream again. “You’ve overtired yourself, Agassi. Sit down on the garden seat.”
I didn’t have the energy or the attention to force my sight back to myself, so I simply bowed as well as I could to Yong-hwa and clung to the sound of his voice until we reached the garden seat. Once I felt the wooden slats beneath me it was easier to sit upright. I was used to living with limited sight of the world around me, and with the seat back behind me it shouldn’t be too difficult to get rid of Yong-hwa. I was willing to give him as much of a chance with Ae-jung as was possible, little though I thought he would win her, and he couldn’t do that if he was sitting guard by me. If I seemed capable, perhaps he would go away.
A diamond gleam made its way through my Dream-sight of Jessamy, who was trying determinedly to rescue his new friend from the embrace of the hedge. That was Yong-hwa’s earring again. I concentrated on it and soon became aware of the touch of sunlight on my face. It shone in Yong-hwa’s hair as well, showing the honeyed tones in what I had thought to be soft brown.
I sighed, and Yong-hwa’s eyes curiously fell on mine. “Agassi?”
“Such pretty hair,” I said, with another sigh. Eppan hair always seems to be either black or brown, but in the sun it has so many colours to it. I thought Yong-hwa’s lips softened in a smile, but it was difficult to see between the golden honey of his hair and the diamond sparkle of his earring. “I’ll sit here for a
little while, Ahjussi. Please don’t let me keep you.”
“This sun is pleasant,” said Yong-hwa. “It won’t be so pleasant after lunch, I think. I didn’t see you at breakfast, Agassi.”
“I can’t sit at the table,” I said, blinking hazily as Jessamy’s grimacing face overshadowed Yong-hwa’s.
I vaguely saw his head jerk back a little. “You’re Kang Eun-hee’s young friend.”
“The cripple,” I agreed, in a friendly sort of way.
“Jessamy’s sister.”
“That, too,” I said. Jessamy was hauling at the other boy’s arms, and the furious swishing of the hedge was making it difficult to concentrate on Yong-hwa’s face. I felt the familiar glaze crystallizing over my eyes as the Dream tried to pull me back in, and then there was a soft sense of magic that stole between me and the Dream. It was a subtle magic, as warm and honeyed as the glow of sunlight on Yong-hwa’s hair.
That made me wake up a little. It’s not strictly forbidden, but unless it’s a life-or-death situation, it’s considered rude to do a Working on someone without their permission. I was grateful for it, but since I didn’t choose that Yong-hwa should get away with such an impolite kindness, I said, without looking at him, “Komawoyo.”
There was a momentary stillness, and then I heard the faint sound of Yong-hwa clearing his throat. He said, “Should I call a servant to bring your couch?”
“You can try,” I said. I heard a whisper of sound, and the Dream cleared enough for me to see that Yong-hwa was looking at me curiously again. I added, “Go ahead.” I was curious myself. It would be a good chance to see the secondhand effects of my invisibility on someone who was as used to being seen as Yong-hwa. I had long suspected that a kind of secondhand invisibility extended to those who were directly interacting with me. It was hard to be certain, since besides Carlin, I interacted chiefly with Eun-hee and Jessamy. Eun-hee had far too strident a personality to let a little thing like invisibility stop people from seeing her, and Jessamy was far too bright to be ignored, but Carlin and I often walked together, he as unseen as me.
Yong-hwa tried first to call one of the gardeners. Interestingly enough, the man did hear something, but when he looked around, his eyes slid right over both me and Yong-hwa. That was normal enough for me, but it startled Yong-hwa considerably.
When it was clear that the gardener wasn’t going to see us, Yong-hwa sat back in the seat. I expected him to rise and fetch the gardener himself; instead, he turned his head to gaze at me again. It was slightly unnerving, as a matter of fact, and I deliberately sank further into the Dream to cloud those thoughtful eyes with the image of Jessamy.
“That’s interesting,” said Yong-hwa, his head tilted to one side.
“I’ll walk back in presently,” I said. “I don’t need my chaise.”
Yong-hwa’s head tilted the other way, his eyes roaming over my face. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Your eyes aren’t right yet. I’ll fetch the gardener.”
There was a sudden void that had been filled with Yong-hwa, momentarily confusing me. Had I sunk deeper into the Dream, or had I merely missed a moment of time? It took me another moment to catch sight of him crossing the grass in pursuit of the gardener, and by the time my mind had caught up with that Reality, Yong-hwa was back, sinking into the seat beside me.
I didn’t particularly feel like answering any questions that might have occurred to him, so I said, “You came back.” That was mildly surprising. The kind of invisibility that clings to me usually extends to making people forget about me once I’m directly out of sight.
Yong-hwa’s cheeks didn’t sharpen, but there was something of an amused shine to his eyes. “I’ll wait with you until your chaise longue is carried out.”
“All right,” I said, even if it didn’t seem likely that he was waiting for my permission. I looked away from him, bored with the beauty of that face, and said, “You saw me fall?”
Yong-hwa glanced briefly at me and then to the cottage, where the gardener had flagged down a footman. There was the faintest of furrows between his brows. “I . . . heard it.”
“Mmm.” I found that my forefinger was tapping my knee softly, and stared at it. “That explains a lot.”
That earned me another full-faced gaze that I preferred to block out with glazed eyes. In my peripheral vision, I saw Yong-hwa’s mouth open to ask a question, and I asked before he could do so, “When you see Jessamy, will you send him to me?”
His silent nod was almost a bow, and I was certain that his lips were pressed together because he had closed his mouth tightly over something he wanted to ask. I would have been more worried about his interest if I weren’t quite sure that I would fade swiftly from his memory after I left his presence. Not only did he have other things to hold his attention, but Jessamy and Eun-hee are really the only ones who keep me in mind for any length of time, apart from Carlin. Even Hyun-jun had been able to write me into one of his books only after three months with me at Father’s house. I would be forgotten by Yong-hwa, just as I had always been forgotten.
We sat together in warm, sunlit silence until Yong-hwa, who had continued to gaze at my face thoughtfully, said, “I’ve seen you before, I think.”
It’s a good thing that I don’t often blush or start, because I was very much surprised. I murmured, “Ye?” and thought, But he can’t remember. That’s impossible.
“At the conservatory window,” he reminded me. Then: “And I think I saw you in the library a week ago.”
“Really? I don’t think so.”
Yong-hwa’s eyes met mine. Then, his lips parting slightly, he laid one finger over them as I had done those few days ago in the library.
I tilted my head as if I didn’t understand, blinking once. “Ye, Ahjussi?”
A faint frown had appeared between Yong-hwa’s brows, but he banished it with a soft huff of laughter. “There’s no need to be formal with me,” he said. “If Jessamy is your brother, we should be brother and sister. He’s the only dongsang I have.”
“Should I call you Oppa, then?” I asked, gazing back at him. There was a tickling discomfort somewhere in the region of my stomach that was as distracting as it was unsettling. I didn’t particularly want to call Yong-hwa Oppa. I would much rather we went back to—Only, now I came to think of it, nothing with Yong-hwa had exactly been normal, right from the start. That made me feel even more uneasy, and I looked away from him.
“Of course,” said Yong-hwa. I could feel his eyes still on me, but a scuffle at the cottage door drew both our gazes. A footman was struggling to bring my chaise longue through the doorway, his eyes perplexed. As we watched, he left it where it was and let his eyes wander over the garden, passing over us without a second look. I wasn’t surprised when he frowned, paused, and then began to carry the chaise longue back in with an air of exasperation.
Yong-hwa sat up with a hiss of surprise, his eyes flying to me and back to the retreating footman. I would have been lying if I’d said it wasn’t a pleasure to see Yong-hwa staring after him with his mouth open. I hadn’t seen that expression on his face before; he was usually far more cool and collected. Still, it would be a good idea for me to stay well out of his sight for the next couple of days, to aid in his forgetting. I didn’t think it would be a problem—not really—but Yong-hwa had shown a few disturbing signs of remembering me more than was usual, and I would rather make sure.
“I’ll walk back in soon, Oppa,” I told him again, closing my eyes and leaning back to feel the warmth of the sunshine dance across my face as it filtered through the leaves above us. That wasn’t true; the Jessamy-Dream was still overlying Reality, just barely kept at bay, and it would be quite some time before I mustered enough control of my body to walk again. Jessamy was still flailing to extricate his new friend from the hedge, to the distinct detriment of the hedge.
There was a slight whisper of sound beside me, then in front of me. I heard Yong-hwa’s voice say, with cool command, “Get on, Clovis-a.”
Yong-hwa looked over his shoulder at me. “Get on,” he said again. “I’ll carry you in.”
“Yong-hwa-ssi—”
“Oppa.”
“Oppa—”
“Ah,” said Yong-hwa, his cheeks sharpening. “You’re so similar!”
“Similar?” I said, so surprised that I didn’t resist when he reached back to seize my hands and pulled my arms around his neck. “Similar to Jessamy?”
“He doesn’t like being dependent on anyone, either,” said Yong-hwa. He folded my arms around his shoulders and rose, lifting me from the garden seat. I should have felt light and airy, but as soon as I felt the warmth of his back, such a wave of heaviness crushed me into myself that I lost sight of the Dream, and Jessamy, and everything else except the soft blue shoulder beneath my cheek.
I breathed out an exhausted “Aish!” My eyelids were aching, but too heavy even to allow me to close them, and my arms were so exhaustingly heavy that I couldn’t keep them clasped around Yong-hwa’s shoulders. They dropped, loose and weighty, against his chest instead.
“Clovis-a?”
“Aish,” I mumbled again, and gave up the attempt to speak.
Yong-hwa’s stride seemed to lengthen. “Clovis-a?”
The sunshine fluctuated on my back as we passed beneath the trees that overhung the path leading to the door, then there was only the chilling sense of shade. We were in the house.
Footsteps struck sharply on the floorboards to my right, and Carlin’s voice said, just as sharply, “Miss? Miss, are you all right? I’ll take her, sir.”
“Ani,” said Yong-hwa, without stopping. A moment later I was sliding onto my own chaise longue in an unstoppable tangle of arms and legs, slowed only by Yong-hwa’s careful hand beneath my head. I saw the glitter of his earrings through my half-closed eyes, and the warmer gleam of his brown eyes; beyond that, the fast-moving flutter of Carlin’s red uniform.
Lady of Dreams Page 18
