It was not only physically that Taejo had matured but emotionally as well. Even his voice had taken on a deeper and more serious intonation. His words were calm and gentle, but Kira caught the strength of character behind them.
“You’re right,” she agreed with a deep bow. “You’re not a child anymore. You are our king.”
12
Pink arrowroot flowers bloomed in splendor all around the temple grounds. It was easy to see how the temple got its name. The blooms were so thick that a person could lie down comfortably in a bed of fragrant flowers without ever touching the ground.
The monastery had been abandoned by the monks when they’d heard the news of the Yamato invasion. Only a few caretakers had remained behind. But the grounds were untouched by any evil. Kira hoped that the monks would return someday soon, for the temple was too beautiful to remain empty.
The grounds included a monastery and a guesthouse. Taejo and the other men were all housed in the monastery, while Kira stayed in a small room in the guesthouse. Brother Woojin had insisted on keeping Kira separate from the men for her privacy. With Major Pak and Jaewon rooming right next to Taejo, Kira was able to enjoy her time alone. The temple filled her with a peaceful tranquility that was a balm to her tired spirit. She also had much to think about, given her conversations with the Dragon King. Ever since his admonition about the jade belt, it had felt like a boulder sitting on her chest. A physical manifestation of all the stress and worry she was feeling. It was a treasure she would have felt better never having. She knew that one misstep on her part might destroy everything. The little leather bag tucked into her bust wrap was a constant, uncomfortable reminder of the danger that they all faced.
Kira stood in a clearing between the temple’s guesthouse and the forest, practicing her early morning taekkyon exercises. She breathed in the cool, crisp mountain air, expelling it with every fluid movement of her body.
She heard her father’s voice in her head, admonishing her to keep her form controlled yet elegant, strong yet beautiful.
“How you fight in combat and how you practice forms are two very different things. The first is self-defense, but the second is art. It is your connection between mind and body.”
Every move, every subtle detail of her taekkyon forms, were a mastery of grace and strength. Her father had seen to that. Each punch and kick, every pivot and jump, had been done thousands of times before. They were an artistry of motion and timing and control.
She remembered when she was five years old her father had taken her to see the saulabi practicing their taekkyon forms. As they watched the perfect choreography of the soldiers in motion, her father had said, “There’s no dance as perfect as this one.”
When she practiced, it was in homage to him.
“Good morning, young mistress!” Brother Woojin called to her as he approached with Jaewon.
Kira relaxed her stance and bowed. “Good morning, Sunim.”
“What a beautiful day for your birthday!” Brother Woojin said. “We will have a lovely celebration for you today!”
“My birthday,” Kira said in surprise. “I almost forgot.”
It was the twentieth day of the fourth month of the solar calendar.
“Yes, it’s a good thing Sunim remembered. Seung has made the most delicious seaweed soup for your birthday breakfast,” Jaewon said.
Thinking of her birthday brought a wave of homesickness and a longing for her parents. Like everyone else of the Seven Kingdoms, Kira counted her age by the passing of each new lunar year. But her birthday was the day to celebrate her mother’s labor of love. Eighteen years ago today, her mother had given birth to her. Every year, her mother would tell her how much she looked forward to Kira’s birthday because it brought the flowers and warm weather and her favorite day. The day she was gifted with a daughter. It would be Kira’s first birthday without her mother.
The smile slipped from her face. Unwilling to let the others see the tears that threatened to spill over, Kira turned abruptly and walked away.
She found herself in a lotus pond garden. Stone stupas and statues artfully decorated the peaceful garden. She sat on a low bench in front of a pond filled with vividly colored carp that poked their heads out in hopes of food. It reminded her of the queen’s fragrant pavilion and of feeding the fish on the bridge with her mother. She held back the tears that threatened to overcome her. She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to think of her mother without tears. There was nothing she could do about the aching in her heart, but she wanted to remember all the happy times with her mother.