Empire’s Curse (Drakkon #1)

Chapter 19

Daiyu was running through a field of blurring chrysanthemums and swaying grass, her hands outstretched toward a shadowed figure. The distance between them grew wider with every sluggish step she took forward.

“Heng! Heng!” she shouted, pushing her way through to reach her dead fiancé. She felt like she was running in slow motion. The fields of flowers were hazy and indistinct as she shoved her way headfirst. Her breath came in gasps. And yet Heng was even farther away now. Her legs moved like they were stuck in sticky, thick syrup. “Heng! Wait, please!”

Tears of frustration stung her eyes. He was going to leave her, again, but … but she needed to explain herself to him. To tell him that she still loved him, even though?—

She didn’t want to think of Muyang.

“Heng!”

Her cries fell on deaf ears and she dropped down to her knees. More tears streamed down her face and she couldn’t stop the torrent of guilt and sadness washing over her. If the war hadn’t taken Heng away, would they be happily married at this point?

“I seem to have dropped by at an unexpectedly emotional moment,” a smooth voice said from behind her.

A shiver ran down her spine and she spun around to find a giant tree a few feet away from her. Underneath the heavy branches full of lustrous reddish-yellow leaves, Feiyu sat cross-legged, his head tilted to the side, and a black and gold dragon mask covering his face. His green robes fluttered against the wind, and his long hair joined it as well.

All thoughts of sadness and grief seemed to dull in that moment.

Daiyu’s eyebrows pulled together. “Feiyu? What are you doing here?”

He chuckled softly. “To see you, of course. I needed to confirm that you aren’t dead.”

“What?” It was at that exact instant that she realized she was dreaming. She looked around herself at the changing scenery—she was now in the woods, with the sun falling over them and trees canopying the sky. She could hear a river rippling in the distance and birds tweeting atop the branches.

“I needed to make sure—” he started again.

“You’re a few weeks too late,” Daiyu finally said with a long sigh. She pushed herself to her feet and wiped her damp cheeks. She turned her anger onto Feiyu, who hadn’t moved from his position. “I’ve been through hell and back! I can’t believe you didn’t even help me!”

It was all a dream, so she didn’t need to worry about what he thought or how she shouldn’t anger a high mage.

“Who was that?” Feiyu’s voice came out softer. “A former lover?”

Her chest tightened and she turned to glance over her shoulder as if she might catch a glimpse of Heng farther away. “My fiancé.”

“Is he …?”

“Dead? Very much so.” It had been four years since he had passed and she hated how she couldn’t even remember his face that well anymore. She couldn’t remember the tiny details that had made him so loveable. So charming. So … like Heng.

“What was he like?”

“He was my best friend.” A warm breeze pushed past them, and she breathed in the scent of summer and grass. “He was … kind, caring, and a bit na?ve about the world. He thought he could become a hero.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

Daiyu shook her head, the guilt still heavy in her chest. “You didn’t answer my question. Why didn’t you help me?”

“You didn’t ask a question.” He laughed this time, and she wanted to reach forward and yank his mask off. But something seemed to be keeping them apart—like an invisible barrier. “But, well, I was busy, unfortunately. Because of the impending war with the rebels led by General Keung, I’ve been doing some tasks for His Majesty. I didn’t notice you went missing until it was too late.”

“Even in a dream, you’re …” She struggled to come up with the words as she stepped closer, but the distance between them remained the same.

“Handsome? Charming? Mysterious?” he offered.

“Annoying.”

He threw his head back and laughed, and it grated on her nerves that he was so carefree while she had gone through so many horrors. From the kidnapping, to traveling with bandits, to now being stuck in a military fortress with the emperor and his men. The last one wasn’t that bad, she had to admit, but with the new information that her family’s livelihood had been burned down, she felt like she was trapped in a prison.

“Is this … really a dream?” Daiyu asked slowly, looking between him and the swinging trees. “Or is this some sort of magic?”

“Huh. You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”

She could have sworn he was grinning behind his mask by the playful quality in his tone.

“Most people—especially those inexperienced with magic—are unable to tell if someone magically visits them in their dreams.”

She wasn’t sure if she should feel flattered or frustrated. She frowned. “Well, thanks. I guess. But when it comes to you, I know things are never simple, which is why I asked. And besides, this doesn’t feel like a dream anymore.” She held her hand out to feel the warmth of the wind. “Like I can smell and feel things.”

“It’s all magic.” He clambered up to his feet and brushed a hand over his clothes to dispel dust that wasn’t there. When he caught her staring, he laughed again. “A habit, if you will.”

“Anyway, I’m sure you’ve come here to tell me something important then, yes?” She quirked an eyebrow and shifted on her feet. “Like how I can leave this place?”

“You still wish to leave?”

“My plans are the same,” she said stiffly. “I haven’t become enamored by the glitter and glam of the royal palace, if that’s what you’re insinuating. The only good that’s come out of this whole ordeal is nothing! I’ve been poisoned, on the brink of death, kidnapped, and tossed around like a piece in a game! And to make matters worse—” Daiyu’s throat closed up and she found it hard to speak without bursting into tears.

Feiyu’s jovial temperament sobered up and the winds grew fiercer, like a storm approaching. “What happened?”

“My family—” She choked back the tears and breathed out shakily. Blinking away the tears, she continued in an unsteady voice, “My family’s rice fields have been scorched and ruined by someone. I don’t know who, but someone is out for us. I think it’s related to me being chosen by the emperor. Someone must be jealous and wants to … I don’t know … scare me?”

Feiyu canted his head, and the gold eyes of his dragon mask seemed to glow unnaturally. “Is that so?”

“I need to find a way to help them.”

“You could marry the emperor.”

Daiyu made a choking sound, completely taken aback by his words. “What? That’s what I’m trying to avoid!”

“Well, yes, but who’s better to protect you than the emperor himself? If you marry him, your family will likely be gifted a new home, new job positions if they wish it, and prestige. You’ll be guaranteeing their future.”

“That … that’s not true.”

“Why?” He tapped his feet beside a cluster of bobbing dandelions. “Historically, all the families of the wives and concubines of the emperor were given great liberties, great treasures, and were held in high esteem. Just because Drakkon Muyang hasn’t married or chosen a concubine, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t do the same.”

“But … but he’s …” Wicked, cruel, terrible. She had so many words to describe Muyang and everything she had heard about him. His reign was soaked in blood. He was part demon, part dragon. All evil. “He wouldn’t?—”

And yet, he had apologized to her. He hadn’t forced himself upon her. He had seemed like he actually cared.

But that was too low of a bar, she told herself. She forced herself to remember how he had humiliated her in the gardens. How he had pressed a knife to her neck. How all of her problems originated from him.

“Who’s to say more enemies won’t crop up and do worse to me and my family?” she found herself saying at last. “The more involved I remain with His Majesty, the more troubled my life will become. I want to go back to my normal life. Back when my biggest worry was about harvesting our carrots on time, or making sure our ginger plant yielded enough for the winter. Or … or, making sure I feed the chickens in the morning, or that I don’t oversleep and forget to make breakfast, or … or …” Her eyes misted over, and a heavier guilt rooted itself in her chest. If she hadn’t become entangled with the emperor, her family’s livelihood wouldn’t have gotten to this state. How worried were Mother and Father? Were they growing sick because they had lost a daughter for a few months, along with losing their rice fields? How much more worry was she going to cause them?

“It’s something to consider,” Feiyu said softly.

She wanted to refute his statement—tell him that he was wrong for even considering such an option—but she couldn’t. Her voice wouldn’t come out, no matter how much she wanted it to. There was a truth in what he was saying, but she didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to be the wife of a cold-blooded emperor, who would replace her in a few weeks once he grew bored with her. She didn’t want to live the life of one of the many wives of His Majesty, who would likely be cast away once she was older and uglier. Whose children would fight and curse and hate their half-siblings over the throne. Who would constantly be looking for the emperor’s favor.

Before her mind could become more entrenched with the horrors of becoming Muyang’s wife, Feiyu spoke, “There seems to be a commotion happening around you.”

“Huh?” She looked around herself, but the scenery was the same as it was minutes ago. That could only mean he was talking about the real world. But she was sleeping alone in Muyang’s room. “Are you talking about in the fortress?”

“Yes. I’ll try to keep my message short.” He held his hand out, where a beaded bracelet appeared from thin air. It glowed gold for a few seconds before flickering off into a light green shade. “I’ll teleport this magic item to you. This will offer you some protection. If you’re really in a bind, try pouring your energy into it and it might help you.”

“That sounds awfully vague. Can’t you just teleport here and help me instead?”

“I’m unable to leave the royal palace grounds, unless His Majesty allows it.”

“But—” She stared at the jade bracelet; how was it going to help her? Would it make it so no one could spy on her? Like Yat-sen was saying the other day? “But what does it do, exactly?”

“It will protect you,” he said simply. “I don’t have much time?—”

“When can I see you again? What if I need your help?”

“I can’t help you when I’m so far away,” he said, and there was a touch of sadness in his tone. “We’ll meet again in the palace. Until then, stay alive and stay safe.”

“Feiyu—”

Before she could ask any more of him, something jolted her. A loud blaring sound.

Daiyu’s eyes flew open and she instantly covered her ears as a horn blasted in the fortress. She threw the thick covers off her body, but the motion caused something to skid across the hardwood floors. Hurling the curtains of the bed aside, she spotted a jade bracelet on the floor a few feet from the bed. She blinked at it in astonishment. So it really wasn’t just a dream.

She didn’t have much time to think about everything Feiyu had told her—not with the constant horn sounding all around her—so she scooped up the piece of jewelry, slipped it on her wrist, and quickly began to dress herself from the discarded pile of clothes she had left last night by the dresser. She combed her hair with her fingers and created a simple, low bun with her two hairpins.

Daiyu peeked out the latticed window for signs of an invading army or a fight ensuing down below, but the courtyard was completely empty. The blood drained from her face and she jammed her feet into her silk slippers. What in the world was happening? Were they going into battle?

When she scrambled out of the emperor’s chambers and into the hallway, it was hauntingly empty, mimicking the courtyard. She hurried down the flight of stairs to the level below it, but it was the same—no soldiers in sight. She kept continuing down until she reached the first floor. There, she spotted dozens of soldiers rushing down the hallway, all of them chattering with one another. Their faces were grim, and she swallowed down her burgeoning anxiety.

“What’s going on?” she asked the closest soldier as she followed the mob down the broad corridor.

The soldier didn’t even glance her way. “His Majesty is calling everyone to the main hall.”

“Why? What does the horn mean?”

He finally looked over at her and his eyes widened as if realizing she wasn’t a soldier. He cleared his throat, turning away. “It usually means he has an announcement to make, or we’ll be attacking soon.”

“No,” another soldier from behind them said, his voice mingling with the chatter of the crowd. “I heard a spy was caught.”

“A spy?” Daiyu breathed, her eyebrows coming together. This was a turn of events she hadn’t expected and it wasn’t her place to be involved in any of it, but curiosity kept her following the groups of soldiers.

They entered what she had thought was the banquet hall, but all the tables were gone and there was nothing inside the room except for the sea of soldiers who stood in front of a dais at the end of the hall. All conversations ceased the instant they entered the room, and as if she were entering a different dimension, a shudder ran through her when she stepped through the double-doored threshold. Her breath caught in her throat at the denseness of the air, like something was trying to suffocate her. She wasn’t the only one who noticed—everyone markedly stiffened.

Drakkon Muyang sat on what looked like a makeshift throne, but what Daiyu realized with mounting horror was a pile of corpses dressed in military attire. He was leaning back, his fingers drumming over the leather hilt of the gleaming, blood-stained sword sitting on his lap. At his feet, blood pooled around the bodies and dripped off the dais in a macabre fashion.

Daiyu reeled back and nearly bumped into the soldier behind her. She had never seen such a horrifying image. Something within her—an instinct that made every hair on her body stand straight—told her to run as fast as possible. And yet a morbid curiosity compelled her to remain rooted in place.

Raw power radiated from Muyang, so thick and bone-rattling that Daiyu wasn’t sure if it was his magic causing such a reaction, or simply because he was that powerful.

Off to the side of the dais stood Prince Yat-sen, Atreus, General Liang Fang, and a handful of men Daiyu recognized from Muyang’s dinner table from the night before. They all wore stoic expressions as if used to such a horrifying display.

“Bring in the traitor,” Muyang spoke calmly and quietly, and yet his voice seemed to echo off the walls.

All at once, the soldiers parted ways and Bohai entered the room. He held a long chain in his hand, which rattled off the polished floors. A few feet behind him, a bruised, battered, and bloodied man limped forward. The man’s face was a map work of purple and blue, and fresh blood dribbled down his chin. One of his eyes was swollen shut and even from the distance, Daiyu could see that his fingers were missing. His hands were covered in dirty, maroon-colored gauze that oozed with blood and pus.

Daiyu’s stomach churned and she swallowed down the bile clawing up her throat. Bohai bowed in front of Muyang, straightened, and yanked the chain until the man collapsed toward the dais.

“The traitor, Your Majesty,” Bohai said with a wave at the prisoner. He wore a pleasant smile as if he wasn’t carting around a half-dead man. “We caught him conspiring with those soldiers.” He nodded at the dead bodies Muyang sat upon so brazenly. “They were planning on storming this fortress.”

Muyang peered down at the prisoner with barely veiled disgust. “So I’m to assume there are more of these soldiers waiting close by to attack us?”

“Correct, Your Majesty.”

“Hm.” The shadows of the room seemed to warp and grow darker, and Daiyu watched with bated breath as he tapped his finger over his sword’s hilt.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Time slowed, and everyone seemed to hold their breath.

Finally, he spoke again. “What do you have to say for yourself? Will you beg for your life, or cry about how wrong you were, or will you hurl insults and die on that treasonous hill of yours?”

The prisoner turned to look at the crowded room, licked the crusted blood on his chapped lips, and shifted his attention back to Muyang. “Y-You—” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “You’re a monster who sits upon someone else’s throne! You don’t deserve to have all these people worship and follow you!”

Silence filled the hall.

Daiyu gasped, the hairs on her arms rising expectantly. The soldiers around her didn’t dare rip their attention away from the scene, some of them appearing just as horrified as she felt, and others looking thrilled—as if excited to smell the blood that would undoubtedly spill.

Muyang’s neutral expression didn’t change. “Ah, so you’re the latter type.”

“Th-the rightful heir will bring this empire back to its glory!” the man continued to shout, spinning around to face the soldiers. “You all will die gruesomely for your treason against the MuRong blood! The rightful heir will win! The heavens favor the MuRong dynasty!”

A laugh escaped from Muyang’s lips—both velvety and rich—and a shiver ran down Daiyu’s spine. The room seemed to darken as amusement flashed over his face, and he reclined into his throne of corpses. “You’re quite the jester.” He lightly stroked the blood coagulating against the flat of his blade. “The rightful heir will never sit upon any throne and he will condemn you for your actions. Isn’t that right, Prince Yat-sen?”

Prince Yat-sen stiffened as the emperor gestured toward him. His youthful face was smoothed down to neutrality, but Daiyu could see that he was clutching his hands together too tightly. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re correct, Your Majesty.”

“You will sit on the throne! One of these days!” The prisoner lurched forward, but Bohai wrenched the chain back and the man collapsed on the floor. He clawed at the wood with his stubbed hands and tried to stand, blood seeping through his bandages, and a frantic, crazed look in his eyes when he looked back at the crowd. “We will bring this empire back to its former glory and eradicate the Drakkon dynasty! If not you, Prince Yat-sen, then your younger brother, Prince Daewon!”

“Yat-sen will never sit on the throne,” Muyang said slowly. “And neither will his brother. Nor his sisters. Nor his sisters’ children. Or their children. Or their children’s children. Do you understand me, treasonous rat? No MuRong will sit here so long as I breathe, and I intend to breathe for a long, long time.” Shadows twirled around his hand, and red lightning zapped from his fingers, smelling like burning flesh. The room dimmed, the shadows in every crevice seeming to have eyes as they blackened further. Muyang rose to his impressive height and more shadowy wisps gathered at his feet, pulling across the thickening blood coating the dais. “Since you love the MuRong bastards so much, maybe you should meet them in the hereafter? I’ll grant you that mercy, filth.”

The man climbed to his feet unsteadily. “You will never defeat?—”

Muyang swung his sword and sliced the man’s neck in one go. Daiyu inhaled sharply and covered her mouth. Blood gushed from the wound and the man’s severed head rolled on the floor. She could see the bone and sinew of the man’s stump of a neck as his body buckled. The chain that had been around the man’s throat fell beside his body with a loud, rattling clank. Muyang swung his sword again, the air slashing loudly, and blood danced off the blade and speckled against the dais.

“Spike his head and display it on the fortress gates so all can see what happens to traitors and cowards,” Muyang said, thrusting the sword into the dais where it stuck out ominously. He fell back onto his chair of dead bodies and waved to Bohai. “And if you catch any more traitors, do the same.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Bohai bowed low.

Daiyu was grateful she couldn’t see the detached head or where it had rolled off to, but she was becoming more uneasy in the throne room. Hopefully, this would be the end of this morbid scene and she could crawl back into her room where she could forget all of this happened.

But right when she thought the emperor would dismiss everyone, he said, “Prince Yat-sen, step forward.”

Daiyu’s breath caught in her throat as she shifted her attention to the pallid prince, who blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting this either. The others in the room were deathly silent, but the shifting in their feet told her that they didn’t know what would happen either.

Yat-sen swallowed, looking at the people beside him, and then turned back to Muyang, who watched him expressionlessly.

“Y-Your Majesty?”

His black eyes narrowed, and a flash of annoyance flitted over his face. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Yat-sen scrambled forward and fell to his knees on the dais, his pants soaking up the thickening blood on the floor from the corpses. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I’m …” His shoulders trembled. “I’m just a bit surprised, is all.”

“Why are you surprised?” Muyang nodded to someone in the crowd and in seconds, a servant rushed forward, nearly slipping on the spilled blood, and held a silver platter with a metal bowl on it. He took the drink wordlessly, swirled it, and drank from it. All the while, the servant disappeared back into the folds of the crowd and Yat-sen remained still as a stone on the floor. “You should know why I’m displeased with you.” He took another sip, his gaze never straying from the prince. “Why don’t you tell me what you did?”

Daiyu’s stomach clenched together tightly, more so than when Muyang had interrogated and killed the prisoner, because this was Yat-sen, someone she knew. Someone who was kind to her. Someone who had helped her.

She didn’t want to see the emperor’s wrath on the poor prince.

Yat-sen shivered and lowered his head further until he was touching the floor, no doubt smearing blood on his forehead and face. “I don’t know what you mean, Your Majesty. Please forgive me.”

Muyang drank from his bowl nonchalantly, and that made him appear all the more terrifying. The fact that this was routine for him. Even as Yat-sen shook like a leaf.

“You don’t know?” The words came out slowly as he rested the bowl on his lap. His eyes narrowed.

“I don’t, Your Majesty,” Yat-sen whispered.

Muyang tossed his drink to the side and it clattered off the dais and into the formation of soldiers. His lips curled back in disgust as he spat, “You used magic last night, princeling. Did you think I wouldn’t smell it on you?”

All the color drained from Daiyu’s face and her knees weakened. Yat-sen stammered something, but no clear words came out from him. Indeed, he had used magic. To help her. To make it so she could see what had happened to her family. And now … the emperor was suspicious of him.

“I … I …” Yat-sen shook harder. “I didn’t mean to, Your Maj?—”

“Are you a traitor just like the rat before your feet? Did you conspire with that lowlife to throw me off my throne?” Muyang rose to his feet again and this time, fire roared in the sconces around the room, illuminating the space in ominous shades of fiery reds and orange. “What did you use your magic for, Prince?”

Yat-sen raised his head, and Daiyu could hear the tears from his voice. “P-Please! I didn’t do anything bad! It was a mistake!”

Daiyu’s head spun and she felt the urge to vomit right then and there. The flashing fire all around them made her clothes feel sticky against her skin, and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

“A mistake? You know you’re to never use magic.” Muyang stopped a foot away from the prince and stared down at him with merciless, cold eyes. The gaze of a man who had done this many times before. “You dare defy me?”

“No, Your Majesty! I don’t?—”

“Silence.” A strangled sob escaped from Yat-sen as Muyang grabbed him by the collar of his tunic and yanked him to his feet in one swoop. He leaned closer, his words echoing throughout the room. “You know what happens to those who disappoint me, Yat-sen.”

Daiyu gasped when Muyang flung Yat-sen off the dais, where he slammed onto the floor beside the dead body of the prisoner. Yat-sen cried as he tried to sit up, his hands slipping on the blood and his expression horrified as he stared up at the emperor. Dark magic radiated from Muyang’s hands and a blustering sound came from the writhing shadowy whips swarming around his arm. It was like it had a life of its own, the shadows snapping and screaming like loud winds. Muyang pointed at Yat-sen and all at once, the magic show moved forward and consumed him. The youth screamed, twisting on the floor as the tendrils attacked him like a hound of dogs.

“S-stop,” Daiyu whispered, the words barely audible over Yat-sen’s terrified and painful shrieks.

Guilt and nausea weighed heavily on her chest and the room began to spin. The flickering fire seemed to mature and brighten, nearly blinding her while the shadowy magic sent wafts of chilly air. She wanted to puke. She wanted to faint. And she wanted to flee from everything.

But she couldn’t. Not when the youth was suffering. Because of her.

“Stop!” she finally shouted.

The soldiers next to her turned to her slowly, and even Muyang, who had been watching Yat-sen expressionlessly, lifted his black, void-like eyes to search the crowds. Daiyu was unsteady on her feet and her breathing hitched in her throat as more soldiers turned to her. The ones nearby inched away as if they didn’t want any association with her.

Finally, Muyang’s gaze found hers and whatever determination she had seemed to wither at the wrathful sight of his anger. She swallowed down the nausea building within her and pushed her way through the swarm of soldiers until she was in the clearing leading to the dais. She gripped the sides of her dress tightly and avoided the emperor’s eyes.

Yat-sen continued to thrash on the floor, his limbs flailing to fight off the onslaught of shadowy magic. Daiyu stared at the floor and spotted the severed head of the prisoner a few feet away from her. Her stomach heaved and she bit her bottom lip to keep from gagging at the sight of its unseeing eyes, the gaping mouth, and the bones poking through the bottom.

“Please stop this, Your Majesty,” Daiyu said, her voice wavering as she approached the dais. She lowered herself into a bow, and the prisoner’s blood stained her dark purple and blue skirts. “Prince Yat-sen used his magic to help me.”

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Muyang breathed, and she flinched, unable to look at him.

“Your Majesty, please spare him!” She placed her hands on the floor, her fingers brushing over the drying blood caking the polished wood, and she lowered her head. “Please! He was only trying to help me!”

Time slowed, and Daiyu squeezed her eyes shut to erase the image of the detached head mere feet away from her and Yat-sen’s pained cries. Muyang didn’t speak, but she could feel his dark gaze boring holes into her. Contemplating on whether or not he should punish her. Or maybe he would kill her right then and there? Chop her head off just like the traitor?

Before she knew it, he was in front of her. He grasped her shoulders and yanked her up to her feet. She barely had time to gasp as she peered up at him. There was something dark and ferocious lingering on his face, and she wanted to squirm inwardly at his expression.

“Your—”

Their surroundings shifted in a split second. One moment they were standing in the hall, and the next she was inside the bedroom she had come from. She blinked back rapidly as Muyang released her. She reeled backward, her stomach heaving and her eyes adjusting to the new sights—the framed bed, the paneled walls, the caisson ceiling. Her nose crinkled, almost confused at the rush of new smells—of jasmine and incense, replacing the metallic blood and sweat scent that had lingered in the hall. She had warped before with Feiyu, but this felt more unnatural than before. Like she had been ripped from one place and shoved into another—and that’s exactly what had happened.

“What—” she began, but she could barely get the word out before her mouth filled with salty water and her stomach heaved. She leaned forward and violently vomited on the floor a foot away from the emperor. A bitter, bile taste filled her mouth and she gasped sharply, her stomach continuing to empty itself. She hadn’t felt this discombobulated when Feiyu had warped her.

Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she raised her head to meet Muyang’s glare.

“What have you done?” There was a deep warning in his tone, and Daiyu wondered for a moment if this was when she would die—alone, covered in blood and vomit, and at the hands of the terrifying, wicked emperor.