Silvern (The Gilded Series)

by Farley, Christina

  “I’m glad someone’s feeling confident,” Lily says, her forehead puckered as she goes over her list for the hundredth time. “There’s so much to do and not enough time.”

  “It will be great,” I say with false brightness, and I squeeze her arm. “If anyone can pull this event off, it’s you and Michelle.”

  We scoot out of the taxi. It’s the perfect spring day, with a cool breeze sweeping down from the northern mountains. The shopkeepers are still stripping tarps off their tables and unrolling awnings. Lily was insistent we arrive right at nine o’clock so we’d avoid the crowds and get through all of our shopping before lunch.

  Ducking past a delivery truck, we stroll down the narrow lane. I eye the shadowed alleyways for creatures lurking about. Lily and Michelle’s laughter pulls me back to earth, and I cling to the sound, forcing myself to smile. To pretend.

  Socks, shoes, shirts, dried squid, and jewelry are all piled high on the tables we pass by. Little shops are tucked inside concrete walls, but their colorful awnings and tables heaped with goods give them character, and each shop has its own personality. We pass one with every T-shirt imaginable, and another with stacks of pots, pans, and kitchen utensils. The air is a mix of gasoline, kimchi, and fried food.

  “It’s crazy, the random things you find here,” I say.

  “A shopper’s paradise,” Michelle announces, strapping her purse over her shoulder. “You never know what glorious treasures we’ll find.”

  I laugh. “Uh-oh,” I tell Lily. “See that look in her eyes? We might never leave this place.”

  Lily reads her phone. “The lantern shop is located one block down, shop number one forty-five,” she says.

  As we wander, Michelle stops and lingers at every other table. We’ll never make it to the lantern shop at this pace. It doesn’t help when Lily finds a coat on sale that she proclaims she adores. While she pays for it, Michelle and I wait outside of the shop, rummaging through their winter sale items.

  “So how are you doing?” Michelle asks as she picks up a hat and tries it on. “Any more stalkers?”

  I think a moment and realize there hasn’t been, which is kind of weird, but good at the same time. When Haemosu was alive, he and his cronies seemed to show up everywhere, all the time.

  “No.” I tug the ends of my spring jacket. “Everything has been oddly calm.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Michelle says.

  “Maybe.” For some reason, I doubt Kud liked the idea of me slipping through his fingers. He doesn’t strike me as one who accepts defeat. Unease curls through me. He must be up to something. The problem is, I don’t know him well enough to know what that is.

  “Because I’ve got to admit”—Michelle moves to the rack of scarves—“that whole mirror episode has changed how I think about everything. Two of Marc’s Council dudes even came to talk to me. They asked me a bunch of questions.”

  My head jerks up at this. I resist the urge to grab her arm and demand for her to tell me everything that happened. Marc must have told them Michelle knew. How could he do that? I could strangle him for getting her wrapped up in his secret Council.

  “What kind of questions did they ask?”

  “Nothing much. Mainly the details of what happened. But they did give me the name of a therapist I can talk to if I feel worried about anything.” She digs through her pocket and produces a smooth, cream-colored card with a name and a phone number on it. “Have you talked to a therapist yet? It might help. You seem stressed out.”

  “That’s not going to solve my problems.” I glance over at Lily to make sure she isn’t overhearing our conversation. She’s still at the counter paying for her coat. “Dad wants me to go to a special school where they have a full-time counseling staff and can treat me if I have any more ‘episodes,’ as he likes to call them.” I focus on the design on a nearby beret. “He’s already talked to the admissions counselor.”

  “When did this all happen?” Michelle’s eyes practically bug out.

  “Two nights ago.” I rub my temples, trying to avoid the headache coming on. “I need coffee.”

  “You need to let me help you out. What can I do?” She sets the scarf down and plants her fists on her hips, practically glaring at me. “That mirror freak show was horror at its finest, but we can find a way through this.”

  “What was horror at its finest?” Lily asks from behind me.

  I literally jump, not expecting her. My brain spins, trying to think of a clever recovery. “Michelle’s last date,” I say, and then bite back a laugh at Michelle’s glaring eyes.

  “You had a date?” Lily gasps. “And didn’t tell me?”

  “I didn’t have a date,” Michelle snaps, rolling her eyes. “Jae is making up nonsense.”

  “Well,” I say, taking Lily’s arm. “We need to brainstorm new possibilities for her. She hasn’t dated anyone since Charlie.”

  “Excellent!” Lily grins. “This sounds positively evil. Come on, I see a rice paper store up ahead. We can brainstorm and stock up on paper at the same time.”

  As we scurry up the concrete steps of the shop, a cool sensation slithers over me. I glance around, but I don’t notice anything. If Marc were here, he’d be able to tell me right away if something from the Spirit World was nearby.

  Shrugging off the sensation, I open the glass door and step inside the shop. The air smells of fresh-cut paper and wood shavings. Massive sheets of rice paper are stacked one on top of the other along the tables. Rolls of colored paper climb the walls all the way to the ceiling.

  Lily sighs in ecstasy. “How am I supposed to decide on styles? There’s like every color in the universe here.”

  I skim my fingers over the paper, loving its soft, bumpy texture. Then, as I pass the window, my eyes scan the crowded street. I dig my nails into my palms, hating how completely paranoid I’ve become.

  I let out a quick breath as my gaze falls on Kang-dae, sipping coffee and leaning against a concrete wall on the other side of the street. A slow grin crosses his face as our eyes meet. He nods once and lifts his coffee cup as if in a toast.

  My fists clench at my sides. Is he spying on me? The Council better not have sent him to babysit. It’s bad enough my boyfriend has to be my Guardian. I definitely don’t need two. Why won’t anyone believe that I can take care of myself? I hate this lack of privacy.

  “I’ll be right back,” I call over my shoulder at Michelle and Lily. “Going across the street.”

  When I reach Kang-dae, he just smirks and takes another sip of his coffee.

  “Trying to blow my cover?” he asks.

  “You’re spying on me, admit it,” I say.

  “Spying is a relative term. I’d prefer to call it ensuring your safety. There are plenty of creatures around here that wouldn’t mind tearing you to shreds after they find out what you’re up to.”

  “I don’t need anyone ensuring my safety. I can take care of myself.”

  His eyebrows lift slightly as he smirks. “So I’ve heard.”

  “Besides.” An edge of annoyance cuts at my nerves. “Marc is my Guardian. I don’t need another.”

  “Feisty, aren’t we? Jung is teaching him the art of the sword.”

  I open my mouth, then shut it. Marc didn’t tell me he was training today, too. The realization hits me. Kang-dae knows more about Marc’s whereabouts than I do. Not that Marc and I tell each other everything, but still, ever since Marc was inducted into the Guardians of Shinshi, he has had this other life—a secret life—that he hasn’t been telling me about.

  “I take it your boyfriend didn’t tell you about the lessons,” Kang-dae says.

  I turn my head away, not liking the way his eyes study me, trying to read my thoughts. Or maybe I do like it, which is all the more disturbing. I speed-dial Marc and press my phone to my ear. It rings and rings until I get his “May the forc
e be with you” message, and I disconnect the call.

  Annoyed, I text him: Where r u?

  “I doubt he’ll have his phone on,” Kang-dae says. “It’s forbidden during training.”

  “You seem to know all about this training.”

  “I completed the tests last week,” Kang-dae says, arms crossed. “Broke the record for quickest to pass.”

  Show off.

  Maybe this is why Marc doesn’t like Kang-dae. There seems to be some grudge between the two of them. It’s hard to know, since Marc won’t talk about it.

  “Listen,” I say, “you don’t need to babysit me. Tell the Council I can take care of myself. No more stalking.”

  “They weren’t joking when they said you were stubborn.”

  I frown, not liking the idea of other people talking about me.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Kang-dae slips on his sunglasses. “Cheers.”

  Jamming my hands into my jean jacket, I take off across the street, already bustling with shoppers and scooters stacked with goods, weaving in and out of the swelling crowds.

  When I reach the stoop of the rice paper store, the air shifts as if a heat wave has washed over me. I turn and inspect the street, shading my eyes against the morning glare, but Kang-dae has disappeared. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of what looks like a lion standing on top of a tall building.

  The lion creature nods once to me. The sun glints off his body, making him look like he’s burning with fire. The single horn and fangs come into focus. Even though I know he’d do almost anything—has done almost everything—to protect me, I still shudder at his fierceness.

  “Haechi,” I whisper.

  Careful, little one, he says in my mind.

  He’s the protector of Seoul, and knowing he’s near, my muscles relax. Until I realize he wouldn’t be here unless he had a reason to be. Maybe Kang-dae is right. My eyes sweep the market once again, wondering which creatures are watching me.

  And why.

  The silverware clicks against china and mixes with soothing classical music. Our table borders the window, giving me the perfect view of Seoul spread below like a patchwork quilt. The Hyatt brunch is one of my favorite things. We usually come only for special holidays, but Grandfather insisted this was the place we should meet. The waiter arrives and passes Dad his coffee, Grandfather his green tea, and me my tall orange juice.

  Dad’s got on a pair of khaki pants and a white button-down shirt underneath a black jacket, a little more relaxed than his usual business suit. This is the first time since we went golfing that I’ve seen him without a tie. Grandfather, on the other hand, is wearing his usual Korean-style jacket with a black stand-up collar, buttoned all the way up. It’s form fitting and shows off his muscular frame.

  “So,” Dad begins the conversation. “What is the occasion for such an extravagant breakfast?”

  I’m assuming he’s referring to the fact that I’m not wearing my usual jeans and T-shirt, rather than to the food. Today I want Dad to see how serious I am, so I chose a short brown embroidered jacket over a white shirt and tight brown pants. I’m wearing a long dangle necklace that Michelle bought me for my birthday.

  “I have a humanitarian opportunity for Jae Hwa to take part in,” Grandfather says. “With your permission, of course.”

  Dad leisurely sips his coffee, but I see the muscles in his neck stiffen. “I’m listening.”

  “My school has found a way for us to deliver medicine to TB patients,” I say, and then hold my breath, listening to how ridiculous this whole idea now sounds. He’s never going to allow me to go into the most dangerous place on the planet. “Can you imagine how that will stand out on a college transcript? Michelle says it’s a first-class ticket to Ivy League.”

  “Tuberculosis?” Dad says. “Isn’t that contagious? I don’t feel comfortable with you doing something like this.”

  “We’d just be delivering the supplies,” I say. “Not interacting with patients. It’s more of a gesture of goodwill between North and South Korea. It’s all been approved by the school and both the South and North Korean authorities.”

  “North Korea?” Dad’s eyes widen, and he sets down his coffee cup with a clatter. “Are you saying you would go to North Korea for this? Absolutely not.”

  “It is an excellent opportunity for Jae Hwa,” Grandfather says. “We do not know how long the window will remain open for us to enter the country.”

  “I didn’t think any foreigner was allowed into North Korea.” Dad scowls. “Besides, she has an American passport. You know how they feel about Americans.”

  “Dad,” I say, gripping the edge of the table. “Grandfather has already applied for the visas, and they’ve been approved.”

  Dad scowls at Grandfather. “You did this behind my back?”

  “It’s a very short trip.” I lean forward to get Dad’s focus back on me. “It will only be for one night and two days. We are going into the Diamond Mountains tourist area. It’s perfectly safe there.”

  Okay, that may have been a slight exaggeration.

  “You mean Kumgangsan? Didn’t a lady get shot there for walking on the beach?” Dad says. “Yeah, that sounds real safe.”

  “Things are different now,” Grandfather says. “The North Koreans need money and our medicine. There have been no issues in the area for over two years. She would be under my protection. I promise to keep her safe.”

  Dad dumps a packet of sugar into his coffee and swirls his spoon through it. He rubs his forehead and then says, “My answer is no. I can’t let her go.”

  I stand too quickly and knock my chair backward. It’s hard to focus because I can see our whole plan unraveling before my eyes. I want to tell Dad that if I don’t do something, Kud is going to kill everyone I love. If nothing else, this trip buys us more time. And if Kud is watching, he’ll think I’m following his instructions.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Dad says. “You know I couldn’t bear it if something were to happen to you.”

  I nod, pressing my lips together, and pick up my chair. “I’m going to the buffet to find something to eat.”

  Before I go, though, I pull out my folder with all the photos Kumar printed off for us. They’re pictures of the TB patients. Each patient’s medicine is different and specialized depending on that patient’s needs. I toss the folder in front of Dad, and storm off to the buffet.

  I’m not sure how long I stand by the buffet, but soon Grandfather comes beside me and pats me on the shoulder. I flinch at his touch.

  “Never give up hope,” Grandfather says. “We must always cling to it even in our darkest hours.”

  I stare at my plate, seeing it has only a slice of cheese and a piece of sushi on it. I’ve lost all appetite. Grandfather heads over to dish soup into a bowl while I shuffle back to the table. Deep down, I can’t blame Dad. If things were reversed and he announced a business trip to North Korea, I’d throw a fit. I swallow my disappointment and plop into my chair across from Dad.

  Sitting on my plate is an origami of a paper frog made from one of the coffee napkins. I lightly touch it with my fingers and look up at Dad. He gives me a sad smile and reaches over and squeezes my hand.

  “You really think this is safe?” he asks. I nod, afraid my voice will expose the truth. “I’m glad you’re thinking about your future. This is a huge step in the right direction. I’m just not sure if a humanitarian trip is the right solution.”

  “You know that poster in your office? The one that says, ‘Don’t let your dreams be dreams’? This, Dad, is one of my dreams. To make a difference in the world. To not sit by and wait for someone else to take risks while I sit back on a cushy couch, and to not watch others suffer when I have the power to help them.”

  He stares at me with his dark-brown eyes as if he’s in pain. “The frog is a sym
bol of safe travels,” he says, gripping my hand in his. “When you go to North Korea, carry it with you and come home quickly to me.”

  “Thank you.” Gingerly, I scoop the frog into my palm. I bite my lip, the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. “I’ll never forget this.”

  Tuesday after school on the afternoon of the Dano Festival, I hurry to the gym to meet Michelle and Lily. As I rush inside, my heart sinks. The place is a mess. The three-foot paper lanterns that were supposed to be hung are scattered about on the floor. The tables we ordered brought in are MIA. Boxes, overflowing with the strings of flowers that Michelle, Lily, and I strung last weekend, are tossed in a heap in the corner.

  And the worst part? Not one volunteer in sight.

  “You can’t be serious.” I drop my backpack and sag against the wall. “We’ll never be ready.”

  “Need some help?” a deep voice says behind me.

  I turn to face the volunteer, already formulating a list of things to do—until I see who it is.

  It’s Kang-dae, standing there in his black leather jacket, long hair half covering his dark eyes and that strong jaw cracked in a half smirk.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. “How did you get on campus?”

  “I told the guard I was with you.” He gives the room a quick glance. “Not as in dating, of course. Just helping with this party you’re apparently putting together to raise medical funds.”

  “Oh.” I glance around, hoping for someone to show up, while clutching my fists, furious no one had. Where are Michelle and Lily?

  “Appears you need a little help,” he says.

  I follow his gaze to the paper flower piles, the trash scattered about the gym, and the easels heaped by the bleachers where the pictures of North Korean kids are supposed to be displayed. I can only imagine the panicked look I must be wearing.

  “I could put you to work.” I plant my hands on my hips and pretend to size him up. “You man enough?”

  “I hadn’t pegged you for a party organizer,” Kang-dae says. “But I’d hate to disappoint someone of your lineage.”