Empire’s Curse (Drakkon #1)

Chapter 10

Daiyu traced circles into the rough, moss-ridden bench she sat on beneath a giant plum blossom tree that rained pink petals on her and the pond a few feet from her feet. The late afternoon light warmed her skin and she longed to be back home with her family, where times were simpler and she never had to look over her shoulder. Previously, she had been slightly annoyed at having a guard shadow her whenever she went in the gardens, but after the attempt on her life two days ago, she was grateful for her guard’s presence.

It was probably why when she heard footsteps approaching from behind, she didn’t bother looking over her shoulder—the person was probably walking down one of the paths anyway. But when she heard a stuttered gasp from her guard, and a quick, “G-Greetings, Your Majesty!” she realized she had messed up.

Daiyu whirled in her seat and inhaled sharply at the sight of Muyang standing a few feet away from her. Her guard had lowered himself into a deep bow, but the emperor barely paid him any attention. His black eyes were hooked onto Daiyu, and every fiber of her being froze at the frosty look swirling beneath the surface. He was dressed in blue robes that were so dark they almost looked black, a gold crown that held his long hair in place, and gilded earrings that caught the sunlight every time he turned his head.

Even with the afternoon light glowing across his face, his eyes remained like cold chips of obsidian, never warming or shifting to a softer shade of brown. They remained bottomless pits of black. Empty. Like a void. Like evil itself.

Daiyu’s heart thumped in her chest wildly, and she lurched off the bench and lowered herself like her guard was doing. “Your Majesty,” she murmured, hating the tremble in her voice. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Leave us.”

“Pardon?” She raised her head to find that he was talking to her guard, who promptly scurried away. It was then that she also noticed the emperor didn’t have an entourage of guards or mages with him and was alone. She swallowed down the sudden fear clawing up her throat.

The corner of Muyang’s lips curved into a sinister smirk, and he waved a pale hand toward the bench. “Don’t let me scare you away from staring at the fish. Sit.”

Daiyu stiffly and wordlessly sat down. She watched as he neared her and touched the back of the bench gently, his gaze flicking down at her and then at the pond with shimmering streaks of light bouncing across the rippling surface.

The silence felt even worse than if he was breathing down profanities or threats because she had no idea what he was thinking, and she didn’t dare turn around and stare at him. She couldn’t even meet his gaze, for fear that he might find that insulting.

“My head mage informed me you were poisoned a few days prior,” he said, his voice coming out smooth and uncaring as if he were mentioning the weather rather than her life. “I see that you’re doing well, so perhaps his worries were unfounded.”

Heat spread over her face, but not from embarrassment. Anger suddenly spiked within herself. It’s only because of your head mage that I appear to be doing well, Your Majesty, she wanted to quip. But she kept her lips pursed shut.

“You were lucky my mage found you.” From her peripheral, she noted that his hand trailed over the bench before landing on her shoulder. Almost immediately, her body went rigid and she held her breath. His fingers were cool as he leaned forward and grasped her neck lightly. “Has it healed?”

She swallowed, and she was certain he could feel it by the way he was holding her throat. She didn’t turn around to pin him with a glare, but the better part of her was terrified. She sat still as his nails grazed the delicate skin he had pierced over a week ago.

“It healed,” Daiyu answered, suppressing a shiver as he leaned close enough that she could smell the jasmine and orange blossom clinging to his skin. She stared at the red and white fish dancing beneath the surface of the pond to keep herself from turning around, even though her reflexes told her to look at him.

“I’m glad to hear that.” The warmth toward her back disappeared, but his hand instead traveled to her hair, and she gasped as he pulled one of her vermillion-colored hairpins out from her high bun. A strip of hair fell down her shoulder and she instinctively turned around.

“What are you—” The words died at her lips when she caught sight of him peering down at her with a look of boredom and hunger. She could see the desire on his face as clear as day, and her heart raced unexpectedly. Warmth rose up her neck and tingled her ears.

Muyang grabbed another hairpin and pulled it out effortlessly. More of her hair slipped from the bun her maid had done for her, but Daiyu couldn’t stop him and couldn’t rip her eyes from him. He watched her the entire time as he grasped another pin and tugged it free from the hairstyle. He dropped each hairpin, where they disappeared in the folds of grass.

Daiyu’s cheeks flushed with warmth as he took the final pin from her hair. Her hair fell down her shoulders, finally free from the constraints, and Muyang stared at her wordlessly. His gaze raked over her face and neck, and she became increasingly aware that they were both alone here, and he was staring at her like a man who wanted to taste her.

He was evil, she told herself, trying to force herself to remember the moment he had pinned a blade to her neck. And yet, something seemed to awaken inside her to be scrutinized in such a way by a man so wickedly beautiful.

“There,” he said, tossing the last hairpin to the ground. Finally, a smile lifted across his lips, and she didn’t like the sudden heat pooling in her stomach. “Much better.”

“I prefer my hair in a bun,” she whispered.

“And I prefer you like this.” He grasped a strand of her hair and positioned it over her shoulder. His finger dragged across her jaw until he grasped her chin. “If you are to wear hairpins, you should wear gold, silver, or jade. Not these gaudy, cheap wooden pins painted to appear opulent.”

“And who will give me these gold, silver, and jade hairpins, Your Majesty? Will the maids bring them to me? The same maids who brought me poison just a few nights ago? Or will you give them to me, so that I may appear prettier in front of you and your nobles?” The words streamed out of her like a single breath, so quick she had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from spewing more.

Something flickered in his dark gaze, and it took all her power to keep from averting her eyes from him. He tilted her head up so she could see him better, and she hated the smirk pulling on his soft mouth. “In front of my nobles, you will appear with many luxuries. Many pieces of gold, silk, jade. But when you are solely in front of me, you will be free of all worldly constraints, little rabbit.”

A blush stained her cheeks and she gasped quietly, so taken aback by his words. She finally turned her face away, ripping his touch from her. “T-That—” Her mouth was suddenly dry and she couldn’t keep the embarrassment away. “That is highly inappropriate, Your Majesty. We aren’t married yet, and so?—”

Muyang smiled, and her blush deepened.

“Surely you’ve been with a man before?”

She whipped her head in his direction, her lips parting. “Certainly not! Why would you think that?”

His eyebrows lifted, and for a brief moment, she forgot that she was in the presence of a terrifying, bloodthirsty emperor. “You haven’t? You appear old.”

“O-Old?” She gasped and quickly turned away from him again. She didn’t like the way their conversation was progressing, and she certainly didn’t like the way her body reacted to him. She was only twenty-four! Sure, she wasn’t young, but she certainly wasn’t old. “I … I didn’t realize I appeared so … well, I’m not—” She struggled to come up with the words. This was the third time a man had told her she was old. The first was when the soldiers had entered her family’s home and rejected her for the royal selection because of her age, the second time was when Feiyu thought she was thirty, and now this man.

Did she really look that much older than the other women here? Were they simply just young, or did she age badly? Maybe her beauty regimen of fermented rice water on her face and hair wasn’t as advanced as the noblewomen, but she didn’t think she was that bad to look at compared to them.

“You chose me,” she suddenly said. “And I doubt you would choose someone ancient and ugly, so if you have faults in my appearance—” She didn’t finish the sentence, though it was clear what she wanted to say: you brought it upon yourself.

“I have no problems with your age,” Muyang said with a low chuckle, and she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “I prefer when my women are older. You’re actually younger than what I prefer.”

Daiyu blinked up at him. That was something she had never heard before.

She spun back around to stare at the pond, unable to shake the surge of conflicting emotions warring in her heart. She tried to remind herself that he was an evil, horrible man who had tried to kill her just a few days ago, and that this brief moment of conversation meant nothing. He was only lusting after her, as was his right as the emperor. This moment meant nothing. He would still murder her if she offended him.

“Don’t clam up now.” There was an authority in his voice that made her stiffen once more and reaffirmed her thoughts. He stepped around the bench and eased himself beside her. “Must I tell you to keep speaking?”

A shiver ran down her spine at their closeness and she braved a glance in his direction. He wasn’t looking at her this time and was staring at the water with half-lidded, bored eyes. She could already see that he was growing tired of her again by the cold indifference of his expression.

Daiyu fidgeted with the pale pink sleeve of her dress. “If you order me to speak, then I will speak.”

“And if I order you”—he pointed a lazy finger to the water and stared at her apathetically—“to walk into this pond and drown yourself, will you do it?”

Whatever warmth she had felt around him disappeared as those words sank in. She licked her lips and stared at the body of water, an uneasiness spreading over her like the undulating waves across the pond’s surface.

He was joking, wasn’t he?

“Well?” Muyang pinned her with a stare so cold and devoid of feeling it confirmed her darkest fears.

“Your command is … is absolute, Your Majesty.”

He smiled, and a shudder coursed through her body at the frostiness behind it. At the cruelty she could see just beneath the surface. “Then do it.”