Gilded (The Gilded Series, Book One)

by Christina Farley

  There’s only one thing to do to save my image. I dig my poles into the soft snow and push.

  I ski straight down the last bit of The Cliff. My hair snaps across my face. The cold lashes against my cheeks. My nerves are totally fried. It’s what I suppose flying might feel like, and oddly, I love it. The danger, the thrill, and the complete uncertainty of not knowing which bones I’ll break this time.

  I expect to flip head over heels when I hit the bottom. I bend my knees to take the impact and tuck my poles under my arms. I land on both skis, but I’ve got a huge problem. I’m flying in a bullet-straight path down the mountain. How do I stop? Do I cross my skis? Or plant my poles in somewhere and hold on?

  There’s a patch of trees to my left with clumps of bushes covered in snow. Possible landing gear, I decide. I tilt my body to the left and aim for the bushes.

  I miss. A tree comes at me. I swerve to the right and then another quick left. It’s like the scene in Return of the Jedi where Princess Leia is trying to escape the storm trooper on her speeder. Only I don’t have Jedi reflexes.

  I crash. And it’s not in the bushes. I hit a rock that sends me tumbling and rolling until I smash into a pine tree. The forest whirls around me in blurry stars. My hand and ankle scream in agony. I lie flat in the snow, willing my body to ignore the pain like I do in Tae Kwon Do class. The ringing in my ears dulls, and I can think.

  I’ve broken something.

  No. I sit up and groan. I’ve broken two things: my wrist and ankle. Or maybe my ankle is just sprained. I want to hit something. I’m that angry about this stupid accident.

  The wind tinkles a thousand chimes around me, and the trees waver like a mirage. I rub my eyes, wondering when the shock of the fall will fade away.

  It doesn’t. It only intensifies. Heat pricks my skin, burning as hot as my screaming wrist and ankle. I push against the trunk of the tree to stand, and its sticky sap clings to my hand.

  A movement catches my eye through the shimmering forest. I peer up to find a man standing there, his maroon robes swirling around him in the pulsating light. The same man who stole my arrow that night at the museum.

  Haemosu.

  I take in a sharp breath and lean against the tree for support. I know I should be freaking out; I know it’s him, and he’s got me trapped with my wrist and ankle probably broken. But for some reason I find myself spellbound.

  “Annyeong haseyo, my princess,” Haemosu says, a smile lighting his eyes, as warm as honey. “You are even more beautiful than I remembered.” His hair is pulled back in a topknot that accentuates his high cheekbones. He has the air of a king.

  Warmth drenches over me, and it’s as if nothing could be more perfect than this moment. Somewhere deep in the back of my brain I remember how Komo said that my best chance to defeat Haemosu is in our world. How convenient for him that we meet when I’m practically crippled.

  “You speak English?”

  He chuckles. “Just one of my talents, dearest.”

  “Nice bow,” I say, noticing his horn bow. “Hunting?” I wonder what kind of marksman he is. And if he’s here to kill me.

  “Ah, I knew you would like the bow. Do you wish to try it?”

  “I’ll pass.” Why do I get the feeling he’s trying to impress me? He hardly seems like the evil villain Grandfather makes him out to be. Maybe Grandfather and Komo are wrong about Haemosu. “I should be going.”

  I try to shuffle backward, using the tree for support. I grit my teeth, determined for him not to notice I’m injured.

  “But I have been waiting so long for you.” He reaches out his hand. I stare at his fingers, remembering Komo’s warning not to touch him.

  My breath quickens as he steps closer; his presence is overwhelming. His robe, decorated with dragons and gold-embroidered edging, brushes across the ground.

  “Please. I insist.” He unstraps the bow from his shoulder and holds it out to me. His smile is warm and inviting, and my defenses fall away.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say.

  The wood glimmers like gold, and I’m so intrigued that I reach out and lightly touch its surface. It tingles beneath my fingertips. I nearly forget that I should be running, not standing here mesmerized.

  It won’t be long before he realizes I’m injured and tries to take advantage of me. What would Grandfather and Komo want me to do?

  Kill him, probably.

  Could I do that? I stare into his honey-colored eyes, and I know I can’t. There’s a connection between the two of us that I can barely even understand. But it’s there. I can feel it tug as if a hook has sunk deep within me. And even if I wanted to kill him, I couldn’t possibly pull the string with my broken wrist.

  “I should go,” I somehow manage. Why is it so hard to say?

  “Come with me. There is so much I wish to show you.”

  “No.” Somehow I swallow down the yes that demands to be spoken.

  “You will like what I have in store for you. I promise you this.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed as the pain in my wrist and ankle yanks at my consciousness. And something else. A desperation pulls at me.

  To be with him. To follow him. To touch him.

  “You don’t even know what I like,” I say.

  “Well.” He raises his chin. “Is this a challenge, my princess? Let me prove my worth.”

  Haemosu stretches his hand toward me. Heat crawls through my fingers, into my wrist, and then courses through my body all the way down to my toes. The pain in my body disappears.

  “Now do you believe me?” he says.

  I hold out my hand, my mouth gaping as I make a fist. No pain. I twirl my ankle and jump on it. Healed. Completely healed.

  “Forget those lies your family has been telling you,” he says. “I have the power to give you immortality. Follow me, and I will show you a place where time is left behind.”

  My wrist and ankle still sizzle with that odd healing sensation. I can hear Komo’s voice telling me this is my chance to hurt him. But how can I hurt the person who’s just healed me?

  “I’ve already seen your land,” I say, remembering that awful pinnacle. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “What you saw was nothing compared to my palace. Come and see for yourself.”

  I peer around him, but all I can see is the snowy forest.

  “So you will come, then. To the land of the wonderful dream.” He extends his hand, and I take it without thinking. The instant we touch, it’s as if a small electrical shock surges into my fingertips. With a flick of the wrist, he commands my consciousness, dragging me into darkness.

  I’m falling.

  Through an abyss of stars, swirling and rippling around me. And I know I’m not in the forest anymore, but in a space beyond time. Hot air brushes my face. I smell honeysuckle and strawberries, so sweet I can almost taste them.

  The snow is replaced with tiny purple flowers scattered around my feet and stretching all the way to a bamboo grove. I swivel around, searching for Haemosu, and take in the rolling hills in the distance, spread with new rice, the tips spring green. He’s nowhere in sight. The breeze kicks in again, and with it the scent of tangerines. The back of my neck pricks, and I know he’s near. Then I hear hoofbeats and turn around. It’s a buck, the sun glistening across its sleek brown coat. He bows his head and breaks into a run.

  I feel oddly free in this place. And it seems so familiar. As if I’ve been away and now I’m home. All my pain has disappeared, and suddenly I’m a little girl again, running across the playground while Mom watches with a smile on her face.

  My skin tingles, and I can feel something changing within me. I look down and realize my boots have vanished, replaced with hooves. My skin is now fur.

  I’m no longer human. I’m a deer. The scents in the air are sharper: the moss below me, the smell of spring leaves.

  Fear should be tearing at me, but it isn’t. I feel liberated. I feel as if I was born to be here.

  I take off and rush
through the forest, chasing after the buck, ducking through the bamboo trees, and I’m faster than I ever imagined I could be. Soon I come to a small stream, rippling like liquid diamond. I leap over it to find that the buck has halted at a dirt path. I follow his gaze to a golden palace.

  A voice whispers in my ears. It takes me a moment to realize it’s the buck who’s speaking.

  “Just a little farther,” he says.

  Haemosu is the buck. And hearing him speak breaks the magic. I step back.

  The buck moves toward me. “Do not be afraid,” he says.

  His form twists until he’s no longer a buck: Haemosu again stands before me. There’s a gleam in his eyes that I recognize: the look of a victor after he’s won a sparring match.

  He reaches out his hand again as he’d done before he healed me, but this time my vision blurs until the once-sharp scents fade and my body twists and contorts back to my human form. My stomach twists. Then my knees buckle, and I fall to the ground and throw up.

  “It takes time and experience to adjust to the shift,” Haemosu says. He hands me a silk towel.

  “How did that happen?” I ask, my body still shaking. “I was a deer.”

  “Metamorphosis,” he says. “Here we have the power to transform into anything we want to be. There is nothing more satisfying than experiencing the magic of my lands.”

  “I don’t think your magic likes me very much,” I say.

  He takes my elbow and helps me stand. A look of yearning crosses his face as he cups my chin between his hands.

  “I have searched and waited a thousand years for you, my princess, and now you are here. Finally we can be together, as is right.”

  I stare into his eyes and search for lies. But his voice soothes me, and I want to believe him, to sink into his arms and be his forever. All those worries Grandfather and Komo had seem silly and childish. I let them slide away.

  He takes my hand, and I wonder if he said this to all my ancestors or if perhaps I am the one. The one destined to be with him. Our clasped hands begin to shine brighter and brighter, until I can see nothing else except their glow.

  Images fill my mind: him carrying me in his arms through his realm, never watching my skin wrinkle or hair whiten. The thought of being his “forever” sends a thrill through me. I never thought that this was what I wanted; but now, holding his hand, I ache to be his. And the magic pulls at me. As if it’s been missing from me my whole life.

  The light draws itself into a liquid gold band that curls around my wrist. Five dragons bubble through the surface, contorting until they form a bracelet. I’m transfixed in his grasp as if he’s numbed every muscle.

  “Each dragon represents one of our meetings,” he says. “Once all the eyes glow red, you will be mine forever.”

  I snap awake. What is wrong with me? Meeting him? Forever?

  Komo said the only way to survive this was never to let him touch me. But I let him into my head. I’ve fallen into his freaking trap. So stupid!

  “No!” I yell, and yank my arm away. My head clears, and I can see through the glow of his skin: a gray, wrinkled creature with sunken onyx eyes and a snarling mouth full of flicking tongues.

  The true Haemosu without his glamour.

  A monster of a man.

  I scream in horror.

  Haemosu disappears. The forest, once beautiful, now hangs low and gnarly; the branches are leafless.

  I fell for his trap. I’m no different from any of my ancestors. Komo warned me, but I didn’t listen.

  I failed.

  I sink to the ground, shaking. I have to pull myself together, but I can’t get Haemosu’s image out of my head. Those eyes. Those claws.

  That’s when I hear them.

  Cries.

  Groans.

  The desperate, anguished sounds fill me with dread. I glance over my shoulder and realize the noises are coming through the brambles. I don’t want to know what they are, but I feel compelled to find out.

  My breath comes out heavy, cold, and wet against the gray world surrounding me. Once I pass through the brambles, I can see what used to be the palace. Its glory has vanished, replaced with crumbling stone walls, rotting wood pillars tumbled over on their sides, and the dust of maybe a thousand years.

  The air reeks. A wooden gate with two doors as tall as a two-story house is still intact, and I see two massive bronze knockers: shimmering gold dragons, their tails twisted as if protecting a treasure.

  A pale hand claws out from the top of the gate. Another from a crevice near a fallen guard tower. I catch a glimpse of a full arm along the tower and then a head pops up. I can’t see the face through the strands of greasy black hair. Why are these people in this horrible place? Then I remember the dokkaebi’s words. Souls of the princesses cry, cry, cry. Was he talking about these people? Are these my ancestors?

  I jam my fist into my mouth to hide a muffled sob.

  And run.

  My heartbeat matches the thud of my boots slapping the hard-packed mud. The groans follow me as I search for where this nightmare began. Then I spot the stream. Dead fish scales and bones have replaced the diamonds that once were there, or maybe they were always bones.

  I can’t think about that now. All I can focus on is escape. I come to the bamboo grove and see where the light wavers and the trees appear split in half. Is that the door I came through?

  A sound like something dragging through the mud reaches my ears.

  “Princess! Help us. Don’t leave us, Princess—”

  I dive for the twisted light.

  I swallow a mouthful of snow as I lie flat, head deep in a snowbank just beyond the ski slope. Even though the air is bitterly cold, it’s fresh, and I suck in deep, chest-filling amounts. The pounding in my head slows, and I look around.

  I’m back. From where? I don’t know, but I want to kiss the ground I’m lying on and thank God I’m still alive.

  I never believed in God or anything spiritual. When Mom was alive, she’d drag me off to church. I’d daydream. Text my friends. Anything but listen. Now I have so many questions. I’m desperate for answers. But she isn’t here to give them. I’m finally ready to listen, but it’s too late.

  The snow I’ve fallen into has soaked through my jeans. I grasp handfuls of it and press it against my hot cheeks. That’s when I realize I’m using my hand. I clasp it into a fist and unclasp it. No pain.

  Scrambling to my feet, I jump. My ankle is healed, too. Haemosu really did it.

  I cringe at the thought of those clawed hands touching me. Why didn’t Haemosu take me right then? Why am I still alive? What did he mean about courting? Is this his idea of torture?

  Nothing makes sense. I want to scream.

  Something rustles in the pines. A black form emerges through the trees, and I spin around and sprint in the opposite direction.

  He can’t take me. I won’t let him.

  “Jae! Jae!” It’s Marc’s voice.

  The drumming in my head slows, and I stop. Marc comes around a tree, his forehead creased with worry and his eyes dark emeralds.

  “Jae! Thank God, you’re all right.”

  I back away, my hands groping for a stray branch with which to protect myself, because I don’t believe this is really Marc and not Haemosu in one of his weird forms.

  But he says, “Hey, Fighter Girl. It’s okay. It’s me.”

  I fall into him then, shaking uncontrollably. He runs his hands up and down my arms as if to warm me.

  “I saw you crash into the forest,” he says. “I thought you might have broken something, but you’re okay.”

  I swallow hard and shut my eyes as if to block out the memories. I’d take a broken wrist and ankle any day if it means not ever having to remember that horrible palace and my ancestors’ cries. When I open my eyes again, Marc’s face is close to mine, his breath warm against my forehead. I notice how long his eyelashes are and how sweat beads up on his forehead.

  He must have thrown off his skis
and run to find me, because the forest is too thick to ski through. I should step away from him, but I am soothed by this closeness.

  “I fell,” I whisper my lie. “I’m okay now.”

  A hint of a smile crosses Marc’s face. “Good. If you weren’t so wet, I’d toss you in that snow mound for making me run like a banshee over here.”

  “How did you find me?”

  His jaw works. “I heard you. Screaming.”

  I look away as his brow deepens again, and I find my skis, leaning the tips against my shoulder. “We should go.”

  He insists on carrying the skis, but I won’t let him. After what just happened I need to feel as if I’m in control of something. Even if it’s carrying some stupid skis. We tromp through the snow in silence when he points to the wrist that’s holding the skis. The one I thought was broken.

  “Some bracelet you’ve got there,” he says as we emerge from the forest.

  I see the shimmer of gold from the corner of my eye. I drop my skis and clutch my wrist. The bracelet is about two inches thick, ringed by five dragons, their golden bodies weaving around it.

  Haemosu left his mark. My stomach rolls, remembering my stupidity.

  Komo’s words haunt me: When he touches you, he will leave his mark… and your courting begins. Each time you meet, he will pull a little piece of your soul into his realm. Until you are no longer with us.

  What have I done?

  “Is something wrong?” Marc asks.

  I can’t speak. I yank on it until my wrist is red. I think back to when Haemosu took my hand. The burning. He must have put the bracelet on me then. What does it mean? Why had he given me a bracelet? And why won’t it come off?

  My arm is raw. Marc puts his gloved hand over my frantic one.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself,” he says softly.

  I stop and bite my lips until I taste blood, sharp and metallic. “Yeah. We should go. Now.”

  The forest presses in on me as if it’s watching with hidden eyes. I quicken my pace, pushing through the low branches, not caring as the boughs slap me across the face. Marc bends down and picks up my skis before running after me.