Kiran was improving by leaps and bounds. She could read whole pages of material now without missing one word. Namjoon shook his head as he leaned over her while she read poetry from a book that he had given her. He didn’t know it, but she had been stealing lines from it to write to her secret admirer.
Writing poetry was hard. Especially the rhyming part. But she had discovered a wealth of good lines in this book. Hopefully, if Joonie recognized the lines in her poems, he would simply be pleased that she had obviously been studying the book he had given her. Thus far, none of his poems had even alluded to the fact that she was writing him poems in return. But every single bird she’d hung from the tree had disappeared. So she had to assume he’d received them all.
She’d now received twelve poems. All of them had been beautiful. Each had extolled her virtues and hinted at his love for her. But she was beginning to wonder when he was going to declare himself. Why did he continue to hide behind words?
Kiran was ready for passion. She wanted a brilliantly flaming love. She wanted Joonie to pull her into his arms and kiss her lips. She’d been waiting for such a lovely occurrence for months now! How much longer would he make her wait?
In the beginning, his poems had given her hope that he loved her and was going to finally be open and honest about his feelings. But he didn’t seem any closer to revealing himself now than he had been two weeks ago. Did he fear her brother? Or was he afraid to get his heart broken when she was married off to some foreign prince?
She was certainly afraid of that. Such an eventuality haunted more than one of her dreams of late. She was terrified of being separated from her home. And her family. And Joonie. She deplored the notion that one day she would be forced to give up her homeland to make an alliance between two kingdoms. It wasn’t fair. She should have a choice. She shouldn’t be a pawn.
Namjoon frowned. “Princess Kiran, why are you crying?” he whispered gently into her ear as he bent over her.
He was trying not to draw the attention of his other pupils to her tear-stained cheeks.
She gasped and glanced back at him as she lifted her hands and brushed the teardrops off her face. “It’s nothing. Can you help me with this word?”
She didn’t really require his help, but she liked it when he leaned over her and breathed on her neck. As he was doing right now.
“Breathless?” he murmured.
Yes, I am.
His eyes speared hers then. She really couldn’t breathe now. Did he have any idea how glorious his eyes were?
That’s it! I can write today’s poem about his eyes!
Namjoon watched in wonder as her eyes suddenly grew wide. As though some great idea were lighting up her heart. He narrowed his own eyes suddenly. What was the girl up to now?
He could always count on Kiran to be involving herself in some scrape or another.
“Princess Kiran, what are you up to?” he breathed.
Her eyebrows flew sky-high. “What?” Her face turned into a blank canvas. “Why, I’m just studying poetry, of course!”
He held her gaze for a few very frantic beats of her heart before he finally walked away from her to check on the progress of his other royal students. Namely, her sisters.
She grabbed a piece of paper and began to jot down some notes for her latest poem.
—
But she was disappointed the next day to discover her bird had been removed from the tree, but its presence had not been replaced by another. He’d left her no poem today? Why ever not?
She was crushed. She’d begun to look forward to receiving those poems. Twelve days had passed, and each of those mornings she’d found a little bird hanging from that tree to greet her. But not today. The thirteenth morning. She pouted as she walked to class.
But her heart began to pound as she entered the room. Namjoon was already seated at the table. But it wasn’t his presence that pulled her heart out of her chest. It was the ten little paper birds lined up on the table in front of him. A deep furrow cutting its mark into his brow, he sat staring at the birds as Kiran breezed through the doorway before coming to an abrupt halt. He glanced up at her.
“Ah, Princess Kiran! Have you any idea what these ten birds are?”
Her eyes clung to his face as her heart sank.
“You don’t know?” she asked, stricken.
If she hadn’t been writing to Joonie, then to whom had she been writing?
“No. These were all sitting here when I entered the classroom a few moments ago. I wonder what they are.”
She scoffed. “Well, clearly someone has been practicing origami. Nothing more. You should just throw them away.” But saying it hurt her heart. She had spent a lot of time on those poems.
“No,” Namjoon breathed. “They’re breathtaking, don’t you think? Someone put a lot of time into folding them to look so perfect. I wouldn’t want to destroy their creations.”
She smiled as her eyes met his gorgeous face. Her heart bent at the sweetness of his words. She felt like bursting into tears. Both because he valued what she had spent her time making and because she now knew for certain that Joonie was not her secret admirer.
“I’ll take them,” she offered instantly. She crossed the room to sit down next to him.
“You will?” Shock reverberated throughout his voice as his eyes careened into hers.
“Yes. Like you said, they’re works of art. Someone should appreciate them.”
He furrowed his brow as his eyes probed hers. This was not the Kiran he knew. The girl he knew was a flighty little twerp without a serious thought in her head. She certainly had never valued someone else’s artwork before.
While he was trying to figure out what to make of all the sudden changes in her character, her twin sisters entered the room. A year younger than her, they were often stepping on her nerves. They were both brilliant students and outshone her at every turn. This was especially chafing since they were fourteen months younger than her.
She watched as their eyes riveted on the little birds. Then they glanced up at the royal tutor.
“Namjoon! What’s this? A game?” Aera, the older twin, queried.
The younger twin clapped her hands. “Yes! Yes! Do tell us this is a game! I do adore games!” exclaimed Aeri.
Kiran shot her an irritated glance. So it was that she didn’t miss the calculated looks her sisters were sending her way just then.
Namjoon peered up at the two cute girls. “No. I have no idea where these came from. Do you?”
“Hmm,” Aera furrowed her brow. “This reminds me of a game Kiran once taught us.” She glanced up at her sister. “Do you remember? We would write little notes on a piece of paper and then fold it into the shape of a duck. Then we’d set them into the river and see how far they floated before someone found them.”
Kiran’s heart was hammering now. She was spearing her sister with a deadly stare. As her heart sank to her toes.
“Yes!” Aeri’s eyes lit up. “Namjoon! Open one up and see if someone has left you a message. Perhaps it’s a love letter!”
Kiran gasped as her eyes grew wide with distress. “No! Don’t destroy the beautiful little birds! Like I said, I’ll take them!” She leaned forward and reached for the last one. But Namjoon’s hand came to rest on top of hers. Impeding her progress. Her eyes collided with his. She had a frantic expression on her face.
What was going on here?
“Wait,” he instructed softly even as his eyes flew from her pale face to the smirking countenances of her sisters.
Was this some sort of prank the two younger girls were playing on their sister?
“I know how to refold origami. I can fix it if I unfold one.” Namjoon carefully removed the bird from Kiran’s hand and began to unfold it.
Kiran’s eyes fell shut as though a heavy weight was oppressing them, but they flew open a moment later as Namjoon began to read her poem aloud. The one she’d written yesterday.
“Your eyes so dark
Have left their mark
Upon my heart
Like the song of a lark.”
It hadn’t been a perfect rhyme, but it had been the best she could do. Now she sat mortified as he read her love note aloud in front of her sisters. But when they began to giggle a moment later, she knew for certain she’d been had. By them. Her sisters had conspired against her.
Her eyes filled with angry tears as they flew across the room to embrace those two tittering twerps. They had been the poets writing her love letters! Not Joonie.
Her disappointment was like a sharp blade lancing her heart. She shot out of her chair and spun around before she crossed the room to stare out into the courtyard behind her bedroom. All those lovely little notes hanging from her tree had not been a sweet balm from the man she loved. They’d been a cruel joke carried out by her bratty little sisters. She was mortified. Especially since they’d delivered all her notes to the object of her affection.
“What a stupid poem!” laughed Aera.
“It doesn’t even rhyme!” bashed Aeri.
Namjoon turned his gaze from the two critics to the silent girl at the window. Had Kiran written this poem?
“I think it’s beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes never leaving her still form.
Suddenly, she spun around to face him. He didn’t miss the tear leaking out of the corner of one of her lovely eyes.
“You do?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Kiran, you’ve been studying poetry lately. Did you write this?”
She swallowed as her heart thudded so loudly that she almost couldn’t hear anything else. How on earth was she to answer that? Before she could, Aera sprang forward and grabbed at two of the birds, crushing them between her fingers.
“These are stupid. Let’s just throw them away.”
“Princess Aera!” Namjoon’s voice cracked like a whip. “Put those down right now.”
The startled girl released the smashed birds. Namjoon didn’t miss the distress in Kiran’s eyes or the little cry of anguish that her lips had released as her sister had crumpled her birds.
“Princess Aera, sit down. You will write me a hundred lines. They must all read: ‘I will not destroy someone else’s property.’”
“What? You’re going to make me write a hundred lines for smashing a couple of paper birds?” she scoffed. “My brother will hear of this.”
“Good,” Namjoon responded crisply. “Maybe you’ll get the caning you deserve then.”
Aera gasped and sat down abruptly in a chair before gathering her materials to begin completing the arduous task he’d just assigned her. Aeri sat down next to her, eager now to stay out of trouble.
Namjoon reached out and picked up the two crumpled birds. He began to unfold them and smooth out the paper. Then he gathered the remaining ones and unfolded them all until he had a neat pile of paper resting on the table in front of him. He glanced up at the two maids who had followed the girls into this classroom.
Then he looked at Kiran. “Where is your maid?”
She shrugged. “She didn’t show up this morning.”
He frowned. “You know you’re not supposed to come to class without her.”
She sighed. “I know.”
He glanced at the two maids. “You,” he pointed at the one standing behind Aeri’s chair, “Boa, come with us. You,” he glanced at the other, “stay here and make sure these girls do their work. Princess Aeri, read your history book and finish the paper I assigned you yesterday.”
She nodded but kept her eyes downcast. There was no way she was writing a hundred lines.
“Princess Kiran, please come with me.” He picked up the pile of papers and led the way out the door to the courtyard.
Kiran followed him, the maid close on her heels. Namjoon led them into the middle of the courtyard, far from the window in the classroom. He turned towards Kiran and smiled.
“I know you love the sunshine and fresh air. Today is particularly beautiful. Yesterday’s rain has brought out today’s blossoms.” He smiled at her before glancing around at the flowers that littered this palatial garden. Then he looked at the tree outside of her bedroom. “Let’s go sit in the chairs near your chamber.”
She gasped. Had he guessed?
But he glanced at her sharply then as he queried, “What? What is it?”
“Nothing,” she murmured, following him as he once again led the way.
A few moments later, all three of them were settled in chairs. Namjoon glanced up at her tree. He grinned suddenly. “How many times have you climbed this tree?” Then he glanced at the maid. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I’d hate for you to get in trouble just for being adventurous.”
Kiran stared at him in surprise. Who was this man? Not her austere tutor; that was for sure.
He cleared his throat as he picked up the first missive and began to read aloud, “Your words fill me with bliss. I want to taste your,” he stopped abruptly as he glanced sharply at Kiran once more. “To whom did you write these?”
“No one!” she burst out. “I was just practicing rhyming.” She’d lied so smoothly.
“I see. Well, I think I will give them back to you without reading anymore. But, Kiran…”
She sighed as she met his gaze once more. He was sure to scold her for writing such suggestive poetry. She braced herself for his ridicule.
“Good job rhyming. These poems are quite good.” His lips suddenly quirked upward. “Though I think you stole a few of your lines out of the book I gave you.”
Her eyes collided with his.
“But for a first effort,” he softened his tone, “these are quite good.”
She basked in his unexpected praise. “You really think so?”
He nodded.
“You can read the rest if you like,” she murmured. “Just,” her eyes shot across to the maid, “not aloud, please.”
His lips twitched. “All right.” His eyes scanned the remaining poems. He’d already read most of them, but he enjoyed perusing them at his leisure. “Yes. These are quite good.”
His eyes connected with hers again. Was it her imagination, or had something just warmed the air between them?
After a few moments, he cleared his throat and handed the papers to her.
“How came your sisters to find these?” he asked.
She glanced at the maid.
“Boa,” he addressed the girl. “I forgot my book on the table. Would you go fetch it, please? You’ll still be able to see us.”
She bobbed her head and jumped up to do his bidding. When she was out of earshot, he glanced at Kiran again.
“I hung them on my tree,” she glanced up.
“Why?” He watched in wonder as she turned a lovely shade of crimson.
“I’d rather not answer that.”
“I wonder why,” he murmured quietly. He peered up at the tree for a second before caressing her face with his gaze again. “Were you perchance writing these poems to someone? Someone who was also leaving you poems in this tree?”
Her eyes met his. “It was a prank!” she cried out in grief suddenly. “Those bratty sisters of mine! Go ahead. Laugh at me too.”
“Kiran,” he forgot to use her title as his voice tenderly addressed her, “I would never laugh at you for expressing your affection for someone. I’m sorry that you got hurt. I take it that you thought you had a secret admirer, but he turned out to be your sisters?”
She blinked, but he knew that he’d struck upon the truth. “My dear,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “One piece of advice. Don’t offer to kiss someone you don’t know.”
“But I thought I did know who—”
Abruptly, she cut off that thought as the maid rematerialized carrying Namjoon’s book. However, as she tried to pass it to him, he failed to meet either her hand or her gaze. His attention was riveted on Kiran and her latest admission.
To whom had the princess believed she was writing those poems? Why did he have the sinking feeling that he was supposed to have been the recipient of those lovely thoughts? Why else would her sisters have delivered the poems to him?
“You may keep my poems if you like,” the princess murmured a moment later. “After all, they’re evidence of what an excellent teacher you are.”
But as his eyes met hers again, he became absolutely certain that was not the reason she wanted him to have them.
“I think, princess, that these poems are proof of what an excellent pupil you can be when you want to be.”
Her eyes fenced with his for a moment. But she couldn’t bring herself to look away even when her gaze softened. Joonie thought she was an excellent student now! She knew that was the highest compliment he could pay her. She felt herself flush with pleasure at his praise.
“Thank you,” she whispered demurely.
And Namjoon had to wonder if she wasn’t growing up after all. He swallowed as he realized the problems that might pose for him.
