My Songbird's Dream

34. When secrets linger

Late February 1945,
Occupied Seoul

Miyoko paced the carpet of her bedchamber, the whisper soft fibers underfoot mocking her roiling emotions with their gentleness. The stress plunged like a knife across her chest, anger racking through her slight frame. It teased and taunted, scraping vicious claws over her porcelain skin.

Her pale, pointed nails proceeded tapping an agitated rhythm against the tense cage of her arm. The clicking punctuations underscored the fury hissing through Miyoko's veins. Her steps traced endless frenetic circles as she seethed, liquid silver silk robe swirling violently around her knees with each abrupt pivot and turn.

The lustrous material fluttered wildly with every jerky movement. It sliced through the air around Miyoko's trembling body like the wings of an enraged bird of prey snared against its will.

Pausing in her caged orbit, Miyoko raked an agitated hand through the inky waterfall of her loose hair. Onyx strands like spun silk tangled around her clenched fingers for an instant before tearing free. Miyoko hissed as pain lanced across her tender scalp.

"Damn that insufferable woman!" She yelled enough for the world to hear, however the room remained empty of any pity.

In a burst of temper, Miyoko seized a pillow from the nearby couch and hurled it forcefully across the room. The expensive fabric hit the far wall with an unsatisfying soft thud before sliding boneless to the floor.

Miyoko stared at its limp form, chest heaving. Then she whirled, swatting a crystal vase off the vanity table. It shattered delicately against the polished wood, water seeping unheeded into the plush rug beneath her feet.

"I should have never signed that stupid paper!" Miyoko clutched at her hair, breaths emerging in harsh pants through gritted teeth.

In the ringing silence following her outburst, Miyoko caught sight of her wild reflection in the vanity mirror. Blood welled from the torn skin of her scalp. Strands of ebony hair stuck out at odd angles, their usual sleek perfection disturbed. Faint blotches mottled her porcelain complexion.

Miyoko stifled an incredulous shriek behind one hand, horror widening her kohl-rimmed eyes. Then she straightened with visible effort, expression shuttering closed.

Turning, Miyoko stalked to the window overlooking the moon-silvered garden. She flung the curtains wide with brusque motions before flinging herself gracelessly into a carved armchair tucked nearby.

One leg draped elegantly over the other, Miyoko propped her chin on a jeweled hand and stared broodingly out into the night.

Abruptly the bedchamber door crashed open, jerking Miyoko from her wrathful thoughts. She turned with a scowl, tired lips parting to deliver a scathing retort.

But the words died on her tongue as Etta stormed into the room, emerald silk robe billowing around her. Unbound chestnut Afro coils tumbled over her shoulders, evidence of having just been roused from sleep.

"Could you keep it down?" Etta demanded without preamble, her pretty features set in lines of annoyance as her gaze swept the disarray. "Your tantrum echoes through half the estate!"

Miyoko bit her lower lip, just shy of drawing blood. A caustic laugh escaped her throat at the sheer audacity on display before her.