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Kiran headed to the school room the next morning.  She wondered why the halls were so quiet, but she just assumed that the rain had depressed everyone’s spirits.  She and her maid arrived ten minutes before Namjoon.  When her tutor finally entered the chamber, she glanced up at him.  Then her eyes traveled around the room.  

“It appears my sisters are late again,” she grumbled, still irritated with them for embarrassing her in front of the man she loved.

“You don’t know?” he asked in surprise.

Her eyes flew to meet his.  “Know?  Know what?”

“That your sisters have been put under strict quarantine.  They have been commanded not to leave their bedchamber for the foreseeable future.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded incredulously.  “Quarantine?  What quarantine?”

Perplexed, he stared at her.  “No one visited you last night to inform you?”  He glanced at her maid, but the girl was just as clueless as she was. 

“I was tired and went to bed early.  I asked not to be disturbed.  I wasn’t feeling well, so I had Seojin stay with me in my room.  We both ate breakfast upon rising and then came straight here.  We haven’t spoken with anyone since dinner last night.”

“There’s been an outbreak of measles in the village, so the royal city is under lock and key.  No one is allowed in or out.  Your sisters apparently didn’t have measles during the last outbreak, so your brother has ordered them to stay away from everyone.”

“Did I have them?  When was the last outbreak?”

“You did.  When you were a toddler.”

“Have you had them?” she asked him.

He nodded.

Suddenly, she grinned.  “Does this mean that I get you all to myself for the next few weeks?”

He cleared his throat.  “Well,” he responded with a rueful smile, “you and your maid.”

Kiran glanced at Seojin and considered her.  Perhaps she’d just have to come up with some ingenious way to distract her maid.  “I see,” she responded haughtily.  “Good.  Now you can teach me three times faster.  There are many more words I wish to learn.”

“Even though you’ve ceased to receive any poetry?” he teased her gently.

She speared him with an irritated glance.  “I still wish to write it, so, yes, I need to learn more.”

“In that case, open your book to page seventy-seven,” he instructed her crisply.

But his eyes softened momentarily as hers met them a second later.  She reached out to pick up her book, but somehow her hand brushed up against his.  It lingered there, the side of her pinky finger touching his thumb.  She could feel a current of warm electricity flowing between them.  Something akin to the flow of lightning when it struck.  Could he feel it too?

She glanced up at him.  But he didn’t meet her gaze.  And a moment later, he pulled his hand away from hers.  Leaving her bereft.  She peered sadly down at her neglected hand.  And sighed.  When would Namjoon admit that he felt what she did?  That he was victim to a passionate love for her as she was for him?