Empire’s Curse (Drakkon #1)

Chapter 16

Daiyu trailed behind Muyang as they walked through the winding, busy halls of the castle. Soldiers dropped down to low bows when Muyang passed, but he only gave them a short nod of acknowledgment before breezing past them. It felt strange to see the waves of people lower themselves in front of him, and it almost felt like they were bowing to her, since she was walking so close to him.

It wasn’t a feeling she could ever get used to, or want to get used to. It made her uncomfortable more than anything else.

When they reached a hallway that was less hectic than the rest, on one of the top levels, Muyang swung open the door and marched inside without a backward glance at her. She scrambled after him, taking in the spacious room with two couches across from one another, a large metal-braced window showcasing the fortress courtyard below, and the sliding doors sectioning the other chambers of the room. In the center, a giant wooden bathtub was placed upon a multicolored rug with tigers and dragons and snakes dancing over it. A large hearth warmed the room and painted it in hues of orange.

Steam from the bathwater fogged the window panes beyond the latticed metal design, and the smell of jasmine and herbs and sandalwood pervaded the air densely. She approached the tub tentatively, feeling all the more dirt-stained and mucky standing in such an opulent, spotless, fragranced room.

Muyang strolled deeper into the room and unceremoniously dropped on one of the couches. When Daiyu didn’t move and only stared at him with bug eyes, he waved to the bathtub with a lazy hand.

“A bath, like you requested.”

She blinked at the steam curling above the bathwater and then back at Muyang, who made no plans to get up and leave. “Your Majesty,” she said slowly. “I did indeed request a bath, but … I plan to bathe alone.” When his amusement deepened, she reiterated, “With no company. Certainly not a man whom I’m not married to.”

And, she wanted to add, certainly not you.

A touch of mischief played on his face for a split second—so quickly that if she blinked, she would have missed the slight glitter in his eyes. “I’m not just any man, Daiyu. I’m to be your husband.”

“But you’re not my husband.” She shifted on her feet and dug her bandaged toes into the cool hardwood floor. Technically, the emperor could have whatever he wanted. Whether that was to watch her bathe or to take her right then and there; nobody would stop him, and nobody would fault him for taking what he desired.

“But I am the emperor.” His ebony eyes appeared more sinister against the dark evening sky in the background and the orange-red fire glowing in the hearth a few feet from him.

“You are the emperor.” Daiyu licked her dry, chapped lips nervously. “You can have whatever you desire, but I ask that you respect my wishes. I am unmarried, and I don’t want to bathe in front of anyone.”

“I remember you telling me that you would jump on me if you continued to remain in my bathing chambers with me. And that, to preserve both of our chastity, you would leave to stop yourself. Do you remember, little rabbit?” He tapped his fingernails against the wooden armrest of the couch and she couldn’t read the expression carved into his stony face. But there was a teasing quality to his tone that didn’t ring any alarm bells, so she didn’t think to back away.

“I—” She lowered her face so he couldn’t see the flush that was spreading. She hated how she was always blushing and being embarrassed around him and how she had made such a fool of herself during their first meeting. “I remember.”

“Unlike you, I have a bit more control,” he said with a small, growing smile. “I won’t jump you.”

“But it’s still improper.” She gripped the rim of the bathtub, tendrils of steam rising over her face and warming her cheeks. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for a man to watch a woman bathe if she isn’t his wife, and for a man to touch a woman who isn’t his wife.”

“You don’t want me to watch you, nor touch you?”

“Correct.” Her fingers turned white from holding the bathtub so tightly, and she hoped he didn’t see her shaking legs. Standing up to the emperor and refusing him was an act punishable by death, but she hoped that whatever was budding between them was enough for him to forgo that route.

Muyang studied her, face expressionless, and seemed to mull over her words. She waited with bated breath, and he finally climbed to his feet.

“Very well. But I’ll hold you to that when we’re married,” he said, walking to the door. “Oh, and before I forget, dinner will be served in an hour downstairs in the dining hall.”

With that, the door clicked shut and Daiyu was all alone. She slumped over the bathtub, the energy seeming to leave her shaking legs, and exhaled deeply. She had somehow survived another interaction with him, and this time it didn’t end with a dagger pressed to her throat or a dunk in the garden pond.

She hastily undid the clasp of the cloak and let it drop to the floor. She peeled back her soiled night robes, the dirtied bandages around her feet, and folded them next to the cloak. It didn’t take her long to slip into the bath and begin to scrub the weeks of dirt and grime from her body and hair.

For the longest time, she simply lay in the tub and stared up at the ceiling, her eyelids growing heavy and the water turning cold.

If she had been told a few months ago that she would be one of the women chosen to be the emperor’s wife, that she would be living in the royal palace, that she would be poisoned, kidnapped, and escape from a band of thieves—she would have thought someone had accidentally told the storyline of a convoluted poem rather than that of her life.

But alas, here she was. Soaking in a bath filled with rosebuds and fermented rice water. With the emperor somewhere in the fortress. And with hundreds of soldiers packed inside this fortress.

Daiyu rose to her feet, the bathwater sloshing over the rim and sopping into the rug below. She cringed as she stepped out, her toes squelching against the now-wet rug.

Spotting a towel on the couch—along with a folded set of deep-blue clothes, a pair of matching shoes, and two black hairpins—Daiyu wrung the water from her body and quickly donned the silk dress. Her hands skimmed over the dark material; it was a blend of dark purple and sapphire, with gold dragons embroidered on the sleeves and golden lotuses etched throughout the skirt. She hadn’t realized how accustomed she had become to the fancy clothes from the upper class, so different than the rough, over-washed, and patchy cotton or linen she had worn for most of her life.

She dried her hair with the towel as best as she could and styled it into a low bun with the two hairpins. Finally, she appeared somewhat like a normal human being and not like a bedraggled, wet rat.

Once she was ready, she left the room and set out for the dining hall. She hoped the rest of her stay here would go smoothly and that she’d find a loophole to escape from Muyang.

The dining hall was arranged with rows of long, low tables, where soldiers sat on cushioned mats on the floor. At the end of the room, on a dais, there was a shorter table where the emperor sat with his closest people. When Daiyu entered the room, she spotted Muyang immediately. He was picking at his food and listening to something Bohai, who sat beside him, was saying. There was another man beside him that she vaguely recognized but couldn’t put her finger on where she had seen him. Along the table with the emperor sat a dozen more people, all of them seeming to vie for his attention. At the very end of the table sat Atreus and a young man who couldn’t have been older than fifteen.

Almost immediately, everyone’s attention drew to her and she hesitated by the doorway, unsure if she should spin on her heels and run back to her room. But then her gaze locked with Muyang, and all at once, everyone seemed to blur away until there was only him. She hated him, she told herself, and yet there was something oddly beautiful about him. The way he sat among his men, the way his black fitted outfit seemed to accentuate his wickedness. The way his handsome face was void of any emotion. Those oppressive, dark eyes seemed to trap her in place, and it was only when he beckoned her forward that her trance was broken.

Heat clawed up her throat and she hoped nobody had noticed her gawking. She walked between the rows slowly, the men’s conversations seeming to hush as she hurried toward the emperor’s table.

“Daiyu, have a seat.” Muyang motioned to the end of his table, beside Atreus and the young man.

She gingerly took the vacant seat between the young man and Atreus. All at once, everyone began their conversations again as if she hadn’t entered the room. The young man gave her a curious look, and she smiled at him. He had long hair that was pulled back at the crown of his head and held in place with various gold pins slotted into his silver dragon hair crown. Jade beaded necklaces adorned his neck and just above his collar, she spotted the undeniable royal tattoo of a snake slithering around a moon—the symbol of the MuRong dynasty.

“Oh.” She blinked at the young man. She racked through her mind of the MuRong princes who were still alive but couldn’t remember their names. “You must be … a prince?”

“Yes, I’m Prince Yat-sen,” he said with a small nod. “And you must be Lady Daiyu.”

“Ah, yes.” She couldn’t believe she was in the presence of what many called the rightful heir to the throne. She would have thought someone like Muyang would keep the prince locked away in the palace to rot, but maybe he wanted to keep his enemies close.

Atreus picked a slice of roasted beef off the many platters of food arranged in front of them and placed it atop his bowl of rice and vegetables. “No need to speak to him too much, Lady Daiyu,” he said coldly, shooting the young man a sharp glare. “It’s better not to involve yourself.”

Yat-sen flinched and tightened his hold on his chopsticks. Daiyu could feel the tension in the air between the two and she picked up her own utensils tentatively. “What do you mean?” she asked, piling sautéed vegetables, sticky rice, and savory meat into her own empty bowl.

“It’s better not to speak to a cursed heir with questionable loyalties.”

Yat-sen seemed to shrink within himself, his gaze locked onto his food.

“Oh. Thank you, Atreus.” She looked between the two young men, unsure of what to say. It appeared like Yat-sen was similar to her—an outsider here. “But I think I’ll speak to whoever I see fit.” She pointed to the soy-glazed mushrooms in Yat-sen’s bowl. “Are those good? Not too sweet?”

He blinked rapidly, turning to her and then to the food in front of him as if seeing it for the first time. “Err, it tastes good,” he answered after a moment. “It’s not sweet at all, mostly salty. I think … you should give it a try. It’s good.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it, then.” Daiyu smiled warmly at him as she loaded the mushrooms into her bowl and then took a bite of it. “You’re right; it tastes pretty salty!”

“I prefer the saltiness,” he said with a small grin.

She could feel Atreus’s disapproving look on them, but she ignored it and continued to eat her food. Her gaze wandered to Muyang, who was several feet away from them at the other side of the table. He was speaking with Bohai and the other familiar-looking man. They seemed to be deep in conversation because he didn’t even look her way, nor did his stony expression change.

“Who’s the man beside His Majesty?” Daiyu asked in a low voice. “I think I’ve seen him before.”

Yat-sen followed her gaze, but it was Atreus who spoke. “That’s General Liang Fang. You might have seen him in the palace.”

“Hm.” She stared at him for a moment longer. He was dressed in the usual Huo military attire and had an icy expression on his face. She felt like she had seen him before, but … where? Finally, a mental image formed in her mind. The first day she had entered the palace, she had run into Jia and him, and he had seemed suspicious of her.

“He appears mean, but he’s not that bad,” Atreus said between mouthfuls of juicy chicken and savory noodles. “He doesn’t spend nearly as much time in the palace as Bohai does, so you might have seen Bohai more often than him. But then again … I don’t think either of them ever step foot in the Lotus wing.”

Daiyu lowered her chopstick and turned her attention on Bohai—truth be told, something about him was bugging her. She had definitely seen him in the palace—not the Lotus wing, she was sure—but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him that bothered her.

“Is he …?” She frowned. She had definitely seen him before.

“Commander Yao is half Kadian,” Yat-sen said.

She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I meant?—”

“He may be half-Kadian, but he has more loyalty than your supposedly pure-blooded Huo self,” Atreus quipped at the prince, shooting the youth another scowl. “It would be better for you not to comment on others.”

“I didn’t mean it in an offensive way?—”

“I doubt it.”

Daiyu looked between the two of them uneasily. She didn’t like literally being in between the tension, and she felt like she had no choice but to be a part of it. “That’s not really fair, Atreus,” she said carefully, picking at her own food with a frown. She was all too aware that Atreus had saved her, and she should have been more grateful, but she couldn’t sit idly while he snapped at the prince. Not when she was caught in the middle. “I don’t believe he meant it maliciously.”

“You don’t know him, Lady Daiyu.” Atreus narrowed his flinty, emerald eyes and pointed his chopstick at Yat-sen. “He’s the son of the dead Emperor Yan. We can’t trust anything that comes out of his mouth.”

“Atreus, that’s rude.” She waved the eating utensil away from her and gave him a stern scowl.

The rest of the meal went awkwardly, with neither Yat-sen nor Atreus speaking. Daiyu ate in silence, occasionally glancing between the two youths and then at the emperor, who wasn’t paying much attention to her.

It was a good thing, she told herself, even as a pang shot through her chest. She didn’t need his attention and she was planning on leaving sometime in the future anyway. She needed to discard any ties she had with him, and she definitely needed to get rid of the strange attraction that seemed to be budding between them—or more accurately, her attraction toward him.

Muyang abruptly rose from his seat, and all movement froze. Everyone’s utensils stopped midair as they watched the emperor slowly descend from the dais, his dark eyes flicking from person to person. The energy in the air seemed to ripple with ominous force, and Daiyu lowered her chopsticks onto her plate with trembling fingers.

“Continue your meals,” he said, raising a hand as he walked through the rows of seats. Even from the distance, Daiyu could feel the magic stemming from his every step. It sent her heart racing—in anticipation of something cruel to happen—and every hair on her body rose. But Muyang didn’t begin torturing anyone or blasting his magic through the room. He only said, “I’ll be retiring for the night. Eat well.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The chorus of voices blended together and Daiyu flinched in surprise at the loudness.

And like that, he left the room. Everyone resumed their meals and Daiyu felt like the odd one out who didn’t know what to do. She stared down at her meal, her chest still tight with apprehension. What was that about? Why had she been so terrified of him? Was it magic? Or was he truly just that powerful that she feared for the worst?

“I too will be retiring for the night. It’s been a long day and a long journey,” Atreus said, placing his chopsticks neatly on the table beside his empty bowl. He gave her a small nod, ignoring Yat-sen completely, and clambered to his feet.

“Ah, good evening then,” she said.

“You should sleep too.” He eyed her swiftly before turning his attention to the open doorway. “You must be exhausted.”

“As soon as I’m done with my meal.”

“Good night then, Lady Daiyu.” He bowed and hastily left.

With Atreus gone, Yat-sen visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping and a long sigh escaping from his lips. Daiyu watched him from the corner of her eye and plopped a sliver of beef in her mouth. The savory, tender meat nearly melted as she chewed.

“It seems we both are alike,” she said.

“Hm?” He tilted his head to the side and the bright lights flaring in the sconces throughout the room seemed to catch onto the silver hair crown he wore. “You think we’re similar?”

Daiyu nodded, stirring the remaining broccoli and mushrooms left in her bowl. “Yes. We both seem to be …” Outsiders, she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to offend him, so she instead said, “Alone here.”

Yat-sen’s eyebrows came together and he looked at the people at the table, all of whom were ignoring them both. “I suppose you’re correct, Lady Daiyu. Nobody seems to wish to speak to a cursed prince, nor to you, His Majesty’s favored. I believe they fear that talking to us will bring treason.”

“You’re not cursed?—”

“I am.” He turned to her sharply, seriousness overcoming his dark eyes. He lowered his voice. “It’s best you think so too.”

He was the son of the previous emperor, so of course he would be hated, but would admitting that he wasn’t cursed be enough for Muyang to punish her? A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the energy that rippled from Muyang as he left the room. That hadn’t been an accident; that had been a show of power.

“Atreus isn’t the only one unkind to me,” Yat-sen continued, picking up his cup of water. His fingers tightened around the metal. “The rest of the Peccata treat me poorly as well.”

“Peccata?” Daiyu had never heard the word before, and it clearly seemed to be foreign. “What is that?”

“Oh. The Peccata is a group of His Majesty’s personal … soldiers? I don’t even know what to call them because they’re really just a group of young men and women whom His Majesty has helped raise. They do various things for him: assassinations, spying, and other sorts of missions.” Yat-sen sipped his water. “Atreus is one of them. There are six in total and you’ll likely meet them all throughout your stay in the palace, or even here. I believe Nikator is planning on arriving at this base in a few days.”

Nikator was a foreign name she had never heard of, and seeing as how Atreus was also foreign, she wondered if the rest of the Peccata were foreign. It wasn’t strange for an emperor to help raise a group of people in hopes that they would become his trusted special soldiers, but she found it hard to believe that Muyang, who appeared so young, would be able to help raise anyone to adulthood.

“By raise, you mean like he acted as their patron, right?”

“I’m not sure on the details.” Yat-sen slurped the rest of his drink and placed it beside his empty bowl. Streaks of brown sauce were still left over on the sides of the white ceramic, and he stared at them intently, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. “I don’t know Emperor Drakkon much, and I don’t know anything about his life prior to … his ascension to the throne.”

The ascension to the throne—meaning, after he brutally murdered more than half of Yat-sen’s family.

“Has he always been so powerful?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she glanced over at Commander Yao Bohai and General Liang Fang, who were in their own world speaking to one another. She looked at the other people at the table, but none seemed to be paying attention to her. “He seems to have powerful magic, but I’ve never heard of a commoner having?—”

Yat-sen grabbed her forearm tightly, his eyes wide with alarm as he scanned the table. “Do not,” he said under his breath, so quietly that it was almost lost in the sea of conversations around them, “ever call him a commoner.”

A shudder ran through her body and she found herself bobbing her head quickly. She was too scared to speak, even when he released her. That simple sentence—an accident, really—could sentence her to death, and she knew it. The emperor was a divine being, and saying otherwise was treason.

He cleared his throat and fiddled with the sleeve of his vermillion silk robes. “Anyone can become powerful with magic, commoner or not,” he said, his voice still quiet. “It has to do with how much yin and yang energy you are born with. The more balanced the two are within you, the more powerful you are.”

Once again, she felt like he was speaking in tongues she had no idea about. The very concept was foreign to her, but the vast majority of the population was ignorant when it came to magic, so she couldn’t feel too down on herself.

“So you’re saying that the emperor has a very balanced energy?”

He nodded. “Correct.”

“And everyone is born with these two energies?”

“Yes.”

“You seem to know a lot about magic,” she said, folding her hands on her lap. She had finished her meal already, as did he, but she didn’t want to leave just yet. She wanted to learn more about magic, even though her bones were heavy with fatigue and her eyes burned with sleepiness. “Can you tell how much yin and yang I have?”

An apologetic smile graced his thin lips. “I’m sorry, but I’m not good at reading people. You can ask His Majesty or any of the mages in the palace?—”

“Oh, no, thank you.” She was already shaking her head, an awkward laugh bubbling from her. “I’d rather not.”

She didn’t want Muyang to become even more suspicious of her. But she supposed she could ask Feiyu when she went back to the palace. She was sure he would know how to read her?—

She stopped those thoughts. There was no reason for her to know any of this. She was planning on leaving, not staying to learn magic.

“I understand.” He chuckled, and his dark brown eyes softened, his guard seeming to slip. “His Majesty is very … intimidating, as are the mages.”

“Oh, so you understand me!” She laughed too, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease. He was easy to talk to, and she didn’t feel like she needed to put air around him. “It’s difficult to be in his presence when he’s so powerful and his reputation … well, you know. Anyway, how do you know so much about magic?”

“I had to learn all about it since I was a child. The royal family—err, I mean, the previous royal family—” Yat-sen cleared his throat. “The MuRong family has been blessed to have equal amounts of both yin and yang energy, which makes us very powerful magically. But that doesn’t mean that nobody else is like that—there are thousands of commoners born with the same type as us.”

Daiyu bobbed her head, but a realization struck her in that moment. Didn’t that make him even more of a threat to Muyang? If Yat-sen, and presumably the rest of his living siblings, were able to learn powerful magic, wouldn’t that make them extremely threatening to Muyang’s reign? She could hardly see why the youth was even alive if that was the case.

“I’ve always been interested in magic,” he said. “I find it all so intriguing …”

“I think it’s fascinating too.” She thought of all the times Feiyu had warped in and out of places, and how jarring and intriguing that had been to see. A stabbing of guilt tightened her chest. She was sure her brothers would have loved to see magic up close, or even her elderly parents. Or her grandmother. Her smile soon turned sad, and she sighed. “I wish I could use magic. At least then I’d be able to see my family.”

Concern washed over the youth’s face. “Oh. I … I’m sorry.”

“It’s been weeks since I’ve seen them.” Her words barely squeezed out of her constricted throat and she tried to banish the guilt, sadness, and anxiety that came with thoughts of her family. “I wonder if they’re doing well without me.”

“I can … I can probably help?” He twisted the gold ring on his finger and cast a quick look around the room to see if anyone was looking, and then whispered, “I can let you see if they’re all right, at least.”

Daiyu’s eyes widened and she held her breath, unable to think properly as he smiled hesitantly at her. He was … able to help? As soon as those words registered, she grasped his hands tightly and excitedly. “Can you really?”

“Y-Yes.” He eased her hands off him and she quickly pulled back.

“Ah, I’m so sorry?—”

“No, it’s fine?—”

“I’m just …” Tears stung her eyes and she couldn’t hold back her smile. “I would be extremely grateful if you can help.”

“I can but …” He nodded at the door, and then back at the others at the table. “We have to keep it a secret.”

“I can do that.” Daiyu bobbed her head rapidly. “Of course.”

“Please don’t tell His Majesty.”

It was just another secret she would have to keep from Muyang, but considering how she already had a plethora of lies she had told him, she doubted keeping another would harm her at all.