Gilded (The Gilded Series, Book One)

by Christina Farley

  “Open the doors!” I throw as much force into my words as I can muster, hoping he won’t hear the fear behind them.

  “Never,” he roars at me, sending my hair flying.

  “Open them!” I jab my finger at the doors.

  A rumble pulses the ground and shakes the doors. With a moan, they swing open.

  My jaw drops. I never expected them to obey me.

  I rush outside, down the steps, passing stone statues of dragons and phoenixes, and into a grassy courtyard. There are at least ten other buildings circling this courtyard, with more tucked away behind those. They are miniature versions of the great hall in Gyeongbokgung Palace, wood structures with stone pillars and fluted roofs. When I took the tour of the Gyeongbokgung Palace with Dad, I remember there being at least three hundred buildings. I’m sure this place isn’t much different. It could take all day to find the queen’s palace.

  Just beyond the courtyard is a stone wall nearly twenty feet tall, with convex and concave tiles alternating across the top. Out here that sweet, fruity smell is even stronger. Jagged mountains just like the ones that surround Seoul rise up through an evergreen forest beyond the wall.

  “Where are the prisoners?” I spin in a circle and scan the courtyard.

  “I told you, Princess. I do not hold prisoners.”

  “Stop calling me princess!”

  I spot a small bridge that crosses a stream, the water sparkling like diamonds. There’s something familiar about this stream. Is it the same one that had been filled with bones earlier? I stride out to the bridge, where I lean over its side, holding on to the thick wooden-beamed railing. With my eyes closed, I listen.

  I expect to hear the gurgle of the water as it slips over the rocks, following the current. Or maybe the twitter of birds, calling to their mates. Or the song of cicadas, a lullaby to the trees.

  But I don’t.

  Instead I hear the coursing of wind sifting in and out of barren trees. The rustle of dead leaves across the ground. The cries of girls in anguish.

  I snap up straight and face Haemosu. He’s strolling toward me with a lazy grin and smooth olive skin, his glamour back.

  “Forget the bracelet, my love,” he says in a low, even voice that curls around my heart and pulls me to him. “Stay with me now. You do not need to wait until the last dragon burns red to become my queen.”

  I back away to the other side of the bridge. How is it that after all he’s done, after I know the truth about him, my heart still aches to believe him? To slide into his arms and join him in his perfect world. I shake my head hard to get rid of his voice seeping into me. Poisoning me.

  “Queen?” I say. “What about all the other girls? Won’t they be a little jealous?”

  “There are no others. Only you.”

  He stretches out his hand, fingers extended, and slowly makes a fist, squeezing so tight his fingers whiten. My chest constricts, and I double over in pain.

  Can’t breathe!

  I push my hand out against the pressure, and for a brief moment it’s as if I can touch his grasp and push him back. His hold lessens, and his eyes grow wider. Maybe I do have some power in his world. But as soon as the surprise of this fades, I can feel his fist overpowering me again.

  I stagger backward and, turning, break into a sprint down the path and through a small side gate. I must find the queen’s palace. I might not be strong enough to beat Haemosu; but if I can open the queen’s gate to save my ancestors and Komo, then all this won’t be for nothing.

  I race into an evergreen forest, tripping over my skirts and landing face-first in the dirt. I claw at the ground until I’m up and stumbling along the dirt path through the forest.

  At the end of the forest I spy the palace. But it isn’t crumbling or gray like before. It’s golden, with sharp rays of sunshine and blue flags waving in the tangerine-scented breeze. The gates gape open, as if inviting me inside. I slow my pace as I step out of the forest.

  Why is the gate open? Is this the right place?

  No one is inside. No hands claw over the edges. No cries for help.

  Yet I’m sure that this is the place. I remember it perfectly.

  Had I been wrong about just needing to open the gates? But that’s what Haechi had said.

  Haemosu materializes in front of the entrance, hands clasped and feet apart as if he’s out here to enjoy a lovely day in the sun. I clench my teeth, hating him all the more.

  I shuffle closer, eying him. “The gates. They’re open.”

  “Of course.”

  I dig my nails into my palms and suppress the storm inside my chest. Because my grand plan to open the gates and release my ancestors is obviously the stupidest one in this dynasty.

  “Where are they?” I say.

  His forehead bunches up, and he cocks his head to the side.

  “I said, where are they!”

  “Do not be foolish.” He stretches out his hand, gesturing me to walk ahead of him. “Please, come with me into the palace. See your new home.”

  A lilting song reaches my ears. It sounds like someone is singing inside. The voice sounds like Komo’s.

  I brush past him to stand at the entrance of the palace, inches from the open gate. Only the strangeness of the situation keeps me from entering.

  “Komo!” I call out. “Are you there?”

  “I’m here, darling,” Komo’s voice says from inside. “Come and join me.”

  I frown. Komo would never call me darling. Something isn’t right here.

  A gazebo rests just inside the gate, decorated with flowers, ribbon, and rows of wooden ducks. It reminds me of traditional Korean weddings. I shiver at the thought. A golden building stands at the far end of the courtyard. A massive pearl, as plump and round as the moon itself, sits inside its wall, and I feel the overwhelming urge to touch it. I step closer. My slippered feet lie inches from the groove in the ground where the gate must lock in place.

  “Please, my love,” Haemosu says, “your aunt waits for you inside.”

  I balk, my legs wooden. I nearly skipped into his trap willingly!

  “No,” I say. “It’s a trick.”

  With effort I step back. I’ve failed. Again. Merely opening the gate won’t release my ancestors’ spirits. And I’ve no idea where Komo is either.

  I need to get out of here. The pull from the palace intensifies, like a metal chain has been wrapped around me. Tugging. Heaving.

  Haemosu grins. He’s saying something, but it’s taking every effort to keep my legs from prancing straight through that gate.

  But the pearl. Smooth and pure. Just one touch.

  “Jae Hwa!”

  It’s Marc’s voice. I blink and realize I am almost inside the courtyard. Haemosu scans the forest, a scowl on his face, and suddenly I’m terrified for Marc and what Haemosu might do to him.

  “Marc!” I yell. “Stay away!”

  I pick up my skirts and sprint back to the forest, back to where Marc’s voice came from. A growl splits the silence. I glance over my shoulder just as Haemosu leaps through the air, transforming into a tiger.

  He pounces on top of me, snarling as he throws his body against mine. I fall hard to the ground, and his paws pin me down. I choke on dirt and squirm under him, my chin screaming in pain.

  I twist so I’m facing him and push against his chest with my palms. He flies off me and crashes into the bushes. If I wasn’t so panicked or hurt, I’d be thrilled at the power I’m discovering.

  “You are a difficult one,” he says. “Stubborn.” He’s a man again, standing and brushing the dirt off his clothes with a look of annoyance. I struggle to my feet, and the realization hits me. He wants me to enter the queen’s palace. He tried seduction. That sure didn’t work. He tried brute strength, but in the end he can’t force me. Something is stopping him.

  I must enter of my own free will, I realize.

  “You know I won’t do it.” I lift my throbbing chin higher. “I’m going to find a way to save them
.”

  “Oh, you will enter, my princess. Trust me. You will.”

  “And if you will not go inside on your own”—Haemosu steps away, and a sly grin forms on his face—“I have my ways of enticement.”

  He claps his hands. A thick shadow slides across the ground between the two of us. I crane my neck back and stare up at the most gruesome, horrific monster I have ever seen: a Minotaur look-alike with horns, fire-breathing nostrils, and clawed feet larger than my entire body. His skin shines in the sun like plated metal. He stands on hind legs and roars. The ground vibrates as the creature clomps closer to me.

  I dart for the tree line, but a bolt of fire from the creature’s mouth rains down, creating a wall of searing flames. I duck, covering my face from the heat, and stagger backward. The creature clomps closer. There’s no other choice: I have to backtrack and race to the other side of the gate. But even there I’m blocked by another wall of fire.

  My path is now blocked on both sides. Behind me is the queen’s palace entrance and before me stands Grossness at its finest, drooling green slime.

  Sweat beads on my forehead. My legs tremble. I take a deep breath and spread out my arms as I focus all my thoughts on morphing into a bird like I did once before. The sky is my only option.

  A tremor shakes my body. It’s working.

  As if sensing my intent, Godzilla’s cousin roars. He arches his back to the sky and spews out a ball of fire. It rolls across the blue—a swirl of crimson, yellow, and orange—and curves to meet with the wall on either side of me.

  My focus shatters. My body pulls in twisting agony, and I collapse to the ground, morphed back to my human self. My stomach is heaving again. My body shakes uncontrollably with the aftereffects of the metamorphosis.

  Then the creature blasts another burst of flames behind him. The two of us are now in a dome of fire. The only escape lies behind me—through the gate.

  My skin burns, my eyes burn, my throat burns.

  I should be dead. Incinerated. But no, that would be too convenient for Haemosu. No dying for me today. Because he doesn’t want me dead.

  He wants my soul.

  “You can’t have it!” I scream. “You can’t—” But my voice crumbles.

  I can feel my skin bubbling. Pieces of my hair are burning, falling out. I cover my head with my skirts, wanting to cry, except my tears are dried up. And then I hear it, deep within me. A voice.

  Believe, it tells me. Believe in the power within you!

  Marc? Or Komo?

  No, it’s something beyond even them. I think about Mom and how she’d say that God gives us strength in our valleys of death. I used to think she was just saying that to help me recover after she died. Now her words make sense as a power wells up within me, ready to burst. I throw back the skirts from over my head and stand. The monster snorts and stomps closer. Would the monster lose its power if it was distracted?

  I reach for my crown and rip it off.

  I lock onto the image of the beast as my target. My crown is my arrow. I toss hard. The crown hits the creature smack in the eye and bounces off. He wavers, blinking, while I’m there catching the crown and tossing it up at the other eye. The creature roars and moans. My own eyes blur until all I can see is yellow. I ignore it as the beast doubles over in pain.

  Then the fire walls fizzle and so does the brimstone ceiling above me. The monster’s concentration is connected to his power. Spitting flames rain down on me. I duck beneath the monster’s staggering legs for protection.

  Once the fire walls dissipate, I bolt for the forest, pumping my legs and arms. I cut through the trees, letting the branches swipe my face. The forest blurs past me in a world of yellow. My slippers are gone, probably a pile of ashes by now, but I’m racing at a speed faster than I ever imagined. The sharp prick in my hip I felt earlier is back, jabbing into me.

  I stop at a pond. Lily pads are scattered across the surface, and a golden pagoda rests in its center. I slosh into it, and though my skin screams in agony, I keep moving until my whole body is submerged in its cool depths.

  “Jae!” It’s Marc’s voice for sure this time. I pull my face out of the water and look around. I think it’s coming from inside the pagoda. Should I trust it, or is this another one of Haemosu’s tricks?

  A growl erupts in the stillness as something dives into the water and lands on top of me. I scream and then choke as the water surges into my lungs. It’s Haemosu in his tiger form. I shove against him, swim underwater, and wade to the shoreline, my dress’s heavy weight dragging me down.

  His claw rips down my back. My vision blurs with pain. I roll in the mud away from him and stumble to my feet, gritting my teeth. His fangs are bared. He paws the ground, eying me.

  I reach deep within myself to shape-shift again, but I don’t have the strength.

  I make the ready stance, but I can hardly hold up my arms, and my body sways.

  He leaps again.

  I draw up the last of my energy and jump. I slice the air and hit a side kick at his jaw. My skirts whip around me as I twist and punch. He grunts, knocked off guard. But I’m weakened by the effort and fall, tangling myself in the dress. I scramble back up and punch again, harder than I ever did when breaking through my wooden boards in practices. His jaw snaps back, but with a pounce he’s on me again. His weight is too much. I’m pinned to the muddy embankment. All that power I had earlier is gone.

  A desperate thought comes to me.

  “Haechi!” I screech.

  As if waiting for my call, Haechi soars out of thin air, knocking the tiger off me. The two tumble across the pond bank. I get up to help Haechi, but Haemosu stands before me.

  “How dare you allow him into my world,” Haemosu says.

  I gape at the two of them, not sure how or why I’d have the ability or power to let in Haechi.

  “You have summoned me,” Haechi says. “Now flee to the pagoda! Flee!”

  I stumble toward the bridge that leads to the pagoda in the center of the pond. When I reach the pagoda’s wooden door, I hesitate. With my hand on the door latch, I look across the pond as Haechi and the tiger battle, fangs barred, claws raised. Haechi lets loose a loud roar.

  Must move. I slide back the door, cringing, not knowing if this is a trap or an escape, and step inside. There’s no ground. Only emptiness.

  I fall. My shredded dress whips around my body in the void.

  Down,

  down,

  down.

  My cheek is plastered against the cold marble floor, bright lights glaring in my eyes. I lift my head and debate whether to play dead or jump to my feet and fight off whoever is surrounding me.

  “We’ve found her,” a policeman says into a walkie-talkie. “Yep, she’s wearing the dress. It’s been damaged.”

  I drop my head down. It wasn’t a trap. I’ve returned to the same room at the museum where I’d left. I groan. Why couldn’t I have popped back here in a less obvious place?

  A guard yanks me up. I check myself quickly and notice that the cuts along my arms are now thin scar lines. My blisters are smoothing out before my eyes. And the blood smeared over me is fading. It’s as if everything I’d experienced was some awful nightmare.

  The policeman is right. I’m still wearing Princess Yuhwa’s dress, soggy and torn. That knife-like pain I felt in the forest is still there, too, and I rub my hip. I need to change. What happened to my jeans and hoodie?

  I spot my phone lying on the floor, the screen cracked. I pick it up numbly. There’s a text from Dad asking where I am and another from Michelle saying: I’m at the movies. Where the xxxx are u? U better not have forgotten.

  Crap.

  The guard picks up the bent crown at my feet and snatches my phone from me. He gives me a rough push forward. Marc, handcuffed, is standing next to one of the shattered glass displays to my right. I rush to him and wrap my arms around his neck.

  “Be careful,” he says. “Got shards of glass all over me.”

  I st
art checking his neck and face for glass. He grins and shakes his head. “You had me worried, Fighter Girl. And you look terrible, by the way.” He leans his chin on top of my head.

  My heart spins. “You don’t look much better.” I grab his shirt, ignoring the guard yelling at me. “I failed.”

  “At least we tried.”

  Any other guy would be calling the insane asylum right now or looking at me like I was some alien from Jupiter. Not Marc. Maybe that’s why I’ve fallen so hard for him.

  “You should’ve told me my plan sucked,” I say. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?”

  “Obviously I’m not.”

  “I told you to move, miss.” The guard wrenches me away, shoves my hands behind my back, and starts handcuffing me. “This should help you listen better—Ah!” he cries, and cradles his hand. He calls one of the other police officers, and the two inspect my bracelet. They decide to forgo the handcuffs, and resort to gripping my forearms and propelling me forward.

  He has no idea how easy it would be to get out of that grip, but I don’t need any more trouble than I’m in already. I glance down at my dress, almost dry, and wonder how that is even possible.

  “Looks like your bracelet may come in handy for once,” Marc says as the two of us are herded to the main lobby. “And the dress isn’t all that bad, but my vote is still for the Pepto-Bismol one.”

  This is another thing I love about Marc. He knows just what to say so I don’t lose my mind. He makes my most horrible moments bearable.

  “If I wasn’t so sore,” I say, half laughing, half crying, “I’d clobber you.”

  “No problem. I could totally take you on.” Then his forehead creases as we are marched down the corridor. “What happened to your skin? Did you get sunburned?”

  “Sunburned?” Then I remember the dome of fire, and my mouth dries up. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  Emergency lights wash the museum lobby where the police are swarming every corridor, blocking the doors and patrolling the exhibits. One of the policemen standing at the lobby desk waves us to him. From the badge on his jacket, I’m guessing he’s the chief of police.