1st 5 Pages December Workshop - Mahoney Rev 1

Name: Vivian Lee Mahoney
Genre: YA Historical Fantasy
Title: The Rebel Queen

I was born with my eyes open, an oddity that spurred gossip and encouraged matchmakers to find other baby girls to promise to the village boys. Mother and Father didn’t mind when none of the village families claimed me. They saw my life’s beginning as an auspicious sign―a way for me to always see the truth behind the falsities of life―and named me Jin-Ae, Truthful Treasure. How they smiled when I spotted the slight-of-hand merchant who tried to cheat Father with fake pearls that crushed into dust, or the traveling farmer who weighed down the rice with river stones to collect more copper coins. While I didn’t have the ability to see into the future like the village shamans, every silent glance, unheard word, and stifled movement ruffled through me and warned me of people’s intentions. If only I listened when the Palace announced my fate. I only have myself to blame.

A slight breeze rustled through holes in the rice paper window. I clutched my jacket closer to my shoulders as I paced the women’s quarters a final time, a stranger in scarlet silk. My gown, a lustrous crimson, edged with gold embroidered peonies along the sleeves and hem, announced me with every movement. Swish. Swish. Never had I worn a gown so elegant, soft to the touch, a gift to the eye. Yet, misery draped over me. My red satin slippers burned bright along the path burrowed into the heated dirt floor, twelve paces from one wall to another, towards the open door, away from the chamber of my childhood.

“You look just like your mother.” Precious Aunt stood by the doorway, her face softening into a melancholy smile. “She didn't want this life for you.” She shook her head. “Already I speak too much.”

My heart caught in my throat. “Please tell me. No one else is here.”

Precious Aunt hugged me and whispered in my ear. “Don't believe such foolishness. There will always be eyes and ears following you around.” She straightened my jacket and fastened a gold filagreed ornament to my skirt. “Your mother was once a favored friend of the Royal Family. Did you know she was betrothed to the Daewon-gun?”

“How could it be?”

“Aiee,” she said softly, smoothing out my hair. “It doesn’t surprise me.”

“What happened?”

“We must not talk of such foolishness. It will only bring us bad luck.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Shh.” My aunt glanced towards the door. “There isn’t much time. Before your mother left the palace, the Queen gave her this good luck piece,” she said, brushing her fingers against the golden ornament at my waist. “Perhaps if she wore this…”

A shadow passed outside the window and a chill blew through the torn rice paper. Precious Aunt grabbed my hands. Even though she spoke softly, her eyes expressed a wildness, a fear I’ve never seen.

“You’ve mourned your parents long enough.” She reached out and touched my forehead. “It’s time to pay attention, Jin-Ae. You’re treading into new territory and we will all lose, if you don’t wake up.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Promise me,” she squeezed my hands. “Promise me you’ll wear this at all times. It’s said this was made from a dragon scale and will protect the owner from harm.”

I nodded, even though thousands of questions burned on my tongue. The shrill cry of the azure-winged magpie shrieked outside my window, and I started. Mother believed in the magpie’s warnings.

“Will this keep me home?” I grabbed her hand. “Please help me stay.”

“I cannot bear this.” Surrendering a sad smile, Precious Aunt turned and fled.

If Esteemed Uncle heard me plead, he’d punish Precious Aunt for not raising me in the proper manner. Who would protect her from his anger when I leave? I sighed. Perhaps I’d do her more good when I’m in the palace, when money and gifts were mine to give.

Time grew late. The Royal Guard would soon take me away. I hastened to say my goodbyes. Thick icicles dripped from our slate roof, sprinkling me as I left the women’s quarters. I stepped across the inner courtyard and jumped over melting ice patches, my skirts fluttering around my ankles. Two stone tigers, faces smoothed by the elements, guarded the entrance to the main house. For the last time, I reached out and rubbed their heads for luck, before suffering the ten steps to the library, where Esteemed Uncle waited every morning, expecting all the household to pay our respects. Today, I knew not what to say. What do I tell my uncle, who seemed too pleased to have one less mouth to feed, who sang his joy of my departure the night before? Deep bows to the ground and muttered insults would suffice for the man who traded me for my home and a life filled with copper coins.

I peeked into the empty library and rustled past the bamboo sitting mats, silk screen, and mahogany desk with the ink bowls and calligraphy brushes. My favorite part of the room―the stacks of books piled against the wall―beckoned me. How I loved these books, most which Father read to me in secret, teaching me to decipher each character and string into words. My fingers ran along the worn spines, avoiding Instructions for Women, a book of virtues Uncle demanded I study these past couple of months, by order of the Palace. This thin book contained so many expectations for women on the proper rules of conduct―piety, demure countenance, deference to the wisdom of men―standards Mother and Father had not followed, reveling instead in passionate discussions, mutual honor, and respect. My failings multiplied with every word from the book and weighed on my shoulders. My knees gave way and I sank to the ground, without a care for the ceremonial gown that nestled around me.

This was my home, the stronghold of all my memories of Mother and Father. I did not know if I would ever be given permission to return. I was sixteen-years-old, yet I aged over a hundred years since the Daewon-gun, the Prince of the Great Court, selected me from his harvest of the most beautiful and wealthy girls of yangban, noble lineage to be his son’s, King Dae-Jung’s wife. Why the Daewon-gun chose me, the poorest of nobles with no family influence, I didn't know. But now, knowing Mother’s history, I could not erase the slight possibility of revenge. I shivered. I would be Queen of Korea in a few short weeks and already counted one enemy, one powerful enemy in the court. My lips quivered and I stood up, wiping away evidence of the dirt floor and the melancholy that imprisoned me.

I must find a way to stay home. Perhaps Esteemed Uncle would relent if I doubled my chores and found a way to earn my keep. It wouldn’t take long before my hands, softened by empty chores and luxurious oils from King Dae-Jung, regained their usefulness in the kitchen. I will find Uncle and beg.

My favorite book, The Legend of the Dragon King, lay on top of the pile next to me. My mood lifted and I tucked the small volume into my waistband, next to Mother’s filagreed ornament, before rushing into the kitchen, stumbling on the heavy silk skirts. Once Esteemed Uncle agreed to halt the wedding, I would change into my comfortable cotton dress, tattered from constant wear, and prepare the most magnificent feast our meager rations would allow. Barbecued bulgogi. Steamed rice. Pickled vegetables. My stomach growled.

I hurried past the stink of the stove that heated the floors, the heady scent rising from the large clay pots of onions and garlic, and into the comforting fragrance of the warm kitchen. My cousins loved to linger over breakfast and gossip, while Precious Aunt chopped vegetables and buzzed around her children, urging them to eat and study hard. I paused. Rather than lively company, empty dishes piled high in a pail and a bowl of rice porridge waited for me, steam rising in the clay oven. My eyes teared. Precious Aunt arranged extra portions of salted beef and kimchi, her rations, in my bowl.

Discomfort quieted me and the unusual silence roared in my ears. Where were the baby’s cries, my cousins’ shouts, my aunt’s song, and even Uncle’s complaints? Unease trembled along my skin, curling deep within my belly.