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She found herself unceremoniously dropped onto a bed a moment later.  Without a word.  Then the mysterious man took a step backwards and removed his tunic.  To reveal his undershirt and pants.  Thankfully, he stopped there.

He crossed to the doors of his bedroom and shut them.  Then, he alarmed her greatly as he approached the side of the bed and drew back the covers before sliding between them.  He had deposited her on the other side of the bed. 

Her heart pounding in her chest, she flew off the bed.  And ran for the doors.  But as she tugged on their handles, she found them locked.  She was trapped in a bedroom with this strange man. 

Still facing the doors, she gasped, “Please.  Let me leave.”

“No,” came his soft and incomprehensible answer.  But his tone of voice wasn’t menacing.

It sounded again.  From that bed that he’d crawled into.  “Come.  Lie down with me.”

Terrified, she leaned backwards while pulling on those handles with all her might.  She tugged with every bit of her strength, but they didn’t budge.  Not one centimeter.

She didn’t scream.  She knew that there was no point.  And she might enrage him if she made too much noise.  So she decided to beg him again.

“Please.  Please let me go.”  A sob broke through, escaping her lips a few seconds later.  And filling the silence behind her.

“You needn’t fear me.  I’m not going to touch you.  I just want you to spin me a tale while I lie here in the dark.”

Stunned, she froze.  Then, slowly, she turned around to face him.  “What?” Her strange violet eyes had flown wide again.

He sighed.  “I have a terrible time sleeping.  But I find your voice soothing.  I’m hoping that it will lull me to sleep.  It’s worked before, you see.”

She stared at him incredulously.  “You really just want me to tell you a story?”

He bobbed his head.  “I swear it,” he murmured solemnly.

“Does it matter which one?”

“Yes.  I want to know what happens to the king.”

“The king?” she played dumb.

“The terribly handsome, terribly romantic, terribly clever king,” he teased her with humor rumbling his vocal cords.  “I want to know how his story ends.”  Suddenly, the chuckle died, and a sober tone overtook his voice.  “How does he outwit all his enemies?” 

His curiosity drew her to him.  She moved closer, peering down at him.  She really hated her inability to see clearly.  She bent over him, coming within a few inches of his face, her eyes studying his serious countenance for several long moments as she remained silent. 

He really was breathtakingly beautiful.  He had two bold, nearly flat eyebrows.  A straight, sculpted nose.  Two inviting lips.  Gorgeous, dark eyes.  But…it was the vulnerability in his countenance – and most especially in those compelling eyes – that drew her towards him.  His eyes seemed sad.  Why would this man – who really appeared more like an overgrown boy – be so melancholy?

She swallowed.  She still didn’t like the idea of sharing that big bed with him tonight.  She straightened and glanced frantically around the room.

“What are you looking for?” he muttered.

“Somewhere to sit,” she responded reluctantly.

He patted the bed next to him.  “Right here.  Come.  This bed is quite comfortable.  I can assure you that it’s more comfortable than wherever you normally sleep.”

“I can assure you it is not.”  She didn’t have to fall asleep next to a terribly handsome stranger when she was sleeping in her own bed.

His eyes held hers steady.  “I gave you my word that I will not touch you.  Come lie down.”

Her gaze fenced silently with his for an eternity of seconds.  But that odd light was shining out of his eyes again.

“Please,” he whispered finally.

Why did that old image suddenly flash before her?  The picture of that tiny king who had been whisked away in the middle of a dark night, only a few moments after his father had passed into the next world?  That lonely, little boy was staring at her out of those gorgeous, chocolate eyes.

It was that vision which compelled her to crawl onto that bed next to him.  But she sat down on top of the covers.  She was not about to slide under them.  She also refused to lie down.  Rigid as a board, she leaned her back up against the wall behind her.  She glanced down at the prone man lying next to her.

He smiled up at her before closing his eyes.

“How do you know I won’t attack you in the middle of the night?” she asked suddenly.

His eyes flew open.  “Will you?”  She could find no trace of fear in that voice.  Only curiosity.

She didn’t respond.

“Or can I trust you?”  He whispered those five words so quietly that she wondered if she’d just imagined them.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking those questions?  You are clearly stronger than I am,” she pointed out emphatically.

“I think you will not hurt me.  I do believe, in fact, that you are going to help me,” he murmured.  Then he closed his eyes.  Making himself vulnerable to her.  “I await your story.”

She drew a deep breath.  She might as well pacify him.  Besides, that haunted, little boy kept flashing before her mind’s eye.

“The doors to the queen’s chambers opened of their own volition.  Or so it seemed.  Servants were invisible to her.  She passed through that doorway and entered her private rooms.  But she found the first room empty.  So she passed into the second.  She saw him then.  Sitting in the middle of her bed.

“‘Mother,’ his tender voice spoke a moment later as his eyes challenged hers.

“And her heart raced.  But her impassive countenance refused to give her away.  ‘What are you doing here?!  Don’t you know how dangerous it is for you to be here?!  What would happen if you were caught?’

“‘I have been here often.  I have never been caught,’ came his prosaic answer.

“‘What do you want from me?’ she asked coldly.

“‘A little motherly affection wouldn’t be amiss,’ he murmured truthfully.

“‘It would make you weak.  What you lack is strength.  Not affection.’

“‘You are wrong.  Affection doesn’t weaken one.  It strengthens even the mighty,’ he retorted.

“‘If you’re looking for affection, you came to the wrong place.  Go find yourself a woman,’ she fenced with him.

“His lips twisted into a grimace.  ‘Don’t you like my company, Mother?  Or are you afraid I’m here to steal your throne?’

“‘It’s not my throne.  I’m simply keeping it warm for you.  So that when you come of age, it will still be here for you.’

“‘Mother, we both know that I am already of age.  So why do you still warm my seat?’

“She stared at those fathomless, dark eyes.  ‘Because your enemies have only grown greater as you have grown weaker.’

“‘What makes you think that I’m weak, Mother?  Simply because I’ve hidden away for years with naught but a guard for company?’

“Her eyes challenged his, but her lips did not move.

“He sighed.  ‘The day is coming, Mother, when I will return for my throne.  On that day, you will not be able to repulse me.  Prepare yourself.’

“With those words, he disappeared through the doorway into the next room.  When she followed him, she couldn’t find him.  And the doors to the hallway were still firmly shut.  How had he entered – and left – her rooms?”

Eun Sook ceased speaking.  She glanced down at the silent man.  He seemed to be breathing deeply.  She leaned towards him.  Still, his silence wrapped around her. 

He’s asleep already? 

Surely, he lied.  He doesn’t have trouble sleeping. 

She bent closer.  Until her face was a scant few inches from his.  She felt herself relaxing.  Perhaps, he wasn’t a threat to her safety after all.

Suddenly, his eyes popped open.  And she recoiled.

“Why did you stop?” he pouted.

And she took a deep breath in an attempt to still her pounding heart.  Finally, she responded, “I thought you were asleep.”

“Alas, not yet.  But I find your story eerily intriguing.  Please continue.”

She cleared her throat and leaned back against the wall as his eyes fluttered shut again.

“The king left the palace and headed home.  To the tiny house he and his guard had been haunting for the past week.

“‘Have you heard the news?’ his protector asked him as he entered the front room.

“‘What news?’ he asked, completely in the dark. 

“‘The queen dowager is forming a hwarang.’

“Startled, the young king glanced sharply at his friend, ‘Mother is forming a hwarang?  Why?’

“‘Clearly, she intends to use them for her own purposes.  To maintain her control of your throne.’

“The young king’s lips twisted into a cunning smile.  ‘Then we shall just have to beat her at her own game, shan’t we?’”  The storyteller paused.

And the mysterious man’s mouth quirked upward as he replied, “Stealing your inspiration from real life, I take it?”

She peered down at him as he opened his eyes and speared her with his glance.  “Well, it is intriguing, is it not?  That the king would hide in plain sight?”

“Hmm.  But…is there no heroine in this story?  No love interest for the young king?”  This was the part that hurt the worst.  That he had loved – and been rejected by – a good woman.

“You are so impatient, sir.  You must hang in there if you wish to meet all the players.  I can’t introduce them all in the first act, you know.  There would be no suspense to carry the plot forward.”

He chuckled.  “So true.  All right, master storyteller, share your second act with me.”

Her lips spread into a wide smile.  She loved entertaining people.  “The next day, the king wished to be alone.  So he entered the quiet atmosphere of a neighboring forest.  To sit under a tree and think.  But as he leaned his head back against the bark of that faithful cedar, just a few seconds after closing his eyes, he was alerted to the presence of another by the snapping of a twig under someone’s foot.  He shot straight up until he was standing.  Quick as an arrow, he moved to hide himself behind that great tree.

“He was in time to see two men walking blithely through those lonely woods.  But then another sound assailed his ears.  And the ears of those two miscreants.  The song of a meadowlark floated on the pale breeze.  A young woman’s heavenly voice upraised, regaling the woodland creatures with a stirring rendition of their country’s anthem.  The king fell instantly in love with that sweet voice.  At the same time that he sensed the danger she had put herself in by wandering around in the forest alone.

“He watched in horror as the two men turned cunning faces towards each other and made eye contact, clearly hatching an evil plan with just one glance.  A second later, the lovely lady appeared off to his right.  The two scoundrels still situated to his left.  She took one last step before her head swung up, and she saw the danger she was in.  Her feet ceased to move as her voice failed her. 

“Her eyes connected with theirs as the taller one muttered to his friend, ‘Well, what do we have here?  A young lass come to entertain us, methinks.’

“Alarm lit up her countenance like a warning beacon.  She turned to make a break for it, but the man was faster.  Closing the distance between them in the barest of seconds.  He reached out to grab her arm but found himself accosted by a strong fist.  Just as his hand closed around her wrist.  The king had managed to place himself between the two troublemakers and the girl. 

“The fingers trapping her wrist soon fell away as the king turned towards the man’s companion.  Who unleashed his own fist upon the king’s lip, instantly busting it open.  As blood poured down his chin, the king gave as good as he got.  And before long, the two felons were fleeing the forest.  Without a backward glance. 

“The king sat down.  Abruptly.  And cradled his aching lip in the palm of his hand.  Assuming the girl had fled long ago.

“‘Kind sir, can I take a look at your lip?’ a sweet voice offered.

“The king glanced up in surprise.  ‘You’re still here?’

“She nodded.  ‘You just saved my virtue.  And, most likely, my life too.  But,’ her eyes traced his beautiful face, ‘your lip has paid the price you rescued me from paying.  The least I can do is stop the bleeding.’

“She knelt before him on the ground, muddying the bottom of her pristine white gown.

“He winced as he watched its purity destroyed.  But she seemed unconcerned about her garb.  In fact, he was fairly certain she wasn’t even cognizant of the damage she was doing to her dress.  She had eyes only for his split lip.

“Suddenly, gentle fingers were probing his chin before brushing a delicate slip of fabric across that throbbing lip.  He heard the sharp inhalation of her breath as she bent close to examine that precious lip. 

“‘Oh!  Sir!  It’s quite damaged,’ she mourned.  ‘Such a beautiful face to be so marred!’  She continued to drag the soft fabric of her handkerchief across his aching mouth.

“But he forgot the pain as he stared down into her lovely face.  She was quite ravishing.  A captivating creature with wide, emerald eyes and—”

“Emerald eyes?” the king’s own eyes suddenly flew open.  “How does she have emerald eyes?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.  But aren’t they terribly romantic?  I’ve always thought it would be wonderful to have emerald eyes.”

He frowned as he gazed up at her.  “But your own eyes are such an intriguing shade of violet.  Why would you want any others?”

A pained expression flitted across her face.  “What you are too kind to say is that I look like a freak with my clear eyes.  No one would choose these eyes,” she mumbled.  “Least of all, me.”

He sat up abruptly and turned towards her.  “No!  Never say that.  Your eyes are stunning.  They’re beautiful.  They’re the thing that drew me most to you.”

Certain that he was simply poking fun at her, she drew back and slid off the bed.  “I agreed to tell you a story.  Not to endure insults.”

“Insults?  Are you deaf?  I just said that your eyes are beautiful!”

“You are clearly mocking me.  No one thinks my eyes are beautiful.  Even the children in the village are afraid of me.  They call me a witch.”  Her lips twisted into a pained frown.  “A phrase they learned from their parents, no doubt.”

His sad eyes grew more melancholy as he continued to gaze into those intriguing, odd eyes of hers.  “I am speaking the truth,” he challenged her softly.  “I really do think your eyes are beautiful.  Please.  Come sit back down.”  He patted the bed once more.

She grimaced as her heart released a pang.  No man had ever been kind to her.  They all wanted something from her.  “You’re just saying that because you want me to finish my story.  You want me to coax you to sleep.”

“It’s true that I do want those things.  But that has nothing to do with my attraction to you.”

He dropped those words like a bomb between them.  They shattered the stillness surrounding her heart.  And she felt something deep within her break.  A million sharp shards invaded her soul as a sob bubbled up from deep within.  No one had ever called her beautiful and meant it.  No man had ever desired her.

She was shunned by everyone.  Nobody else knew she was a marvelous storyteller.  With one notable exception.  Usually, she regaled only the woodland creatures with her tales.  No one fathomed how wide her heart was.  Or how much she wanted to touch someone with her words.  Or how she desired to be loved just for being herself.

This was the first time a man had ever shown the slightest bit of interest in her that wasn’t sinister.  So, understandably, she was suspicious.  And nervous.

She closed her eyes and hid from him.

But his next question surprised her. 

“What’s your name?”

Her name.  The one gift her mother had given her.  Before she’d slipped from this world.

“Eun Sook,” she murmured quietly.

Silver.  Pure.  He flipped the words around.  Pure Silver.  What a perfect name for such an enchanting creature.  He smiled as he gazed at her.  But she was still hiding from him. 

So he crawled off the bed to stand before her and reached out a hand to tentatively touch her cheek with one bold finger.  And those magnificent, indigo eyes flew open.  Abruptly.

She was instantly trapped within his gaze.  The smile faded from his lips as he peered into her soul.  A look of unutterable vulnerability trembled across her countenance.  Unleashing reverberations within his own heart.  He knew what it was to be that lost.  He knew it well.

So he caressed her cheek with his fingertips.  Tenderly.  Reverently.  And she held her breath in awe at the gentleness of his touch.  No one had ever touched her that sweetly.

Or with that expression swirling in his eyes.

“You are beautiful,” he breathed.  “Never doubt it.”

Tears flooded her eyes.  Her eyelids grew heavy, finally falling to shield her pain from his view.  But its waves were crashing against the shoreline of her face.  Compelled, he leaned towards her.  His heart seemed to be colliding with hers.  Being absorbed by all her wounds.

Before she knew what was happening, his arms were sliding around her waist, drawing her close to him.  He pulled her up against his chest as his face found its resting place in the crook of her neck.  His warm breath slid across her skin.  Making her crave something she’d never pursued.  She tensed.

“Relax,” he murmured.

“Why should I trust you?” she queried defensively, even as she felt a wall within her crumbling. 

His arms felt wonderful.  Strong.  Secure.  Yet tender.  Comforting.  She longed to lean into that hug.  To trust it.  To put her faith in him.

If only he were like the king of whom she so proudly spun her tales.

A hero to be admired.  A protector to be trusted.  A champion to be followed.  A lover to be cherished.

If only…