Chapter 23
Daiyu fell back in the snow with the weight of Muyang’s body pinning her to the ground. She blinked up at the gray sky. The back of her clothes slowly seeped with dampness from the snow. She tried nudging Muyang, but he remained unmoving and heavy.
“Your Majesty?” Daiyu wriggled beneath him. He was like an anchor sitting on her chest, making it harder to breathe, but even as she pushed him, he didn’t budge. “Are you seriously …” Unconscious?
She didn’t say the word out loud in case she came across as rude, but when he didn’t answer, she intensified her efforts to free herself from under him. After much struggling, cursing, and grunting, Daiyu somehow managed to pry herself free and squirm out from beneath his weight. Once free, she pushed and pulled him until he was lying on his back.
“You truly are a giant of a man,” she said through exasperated gasps, falling back onto her bottom. In the afternoon sunlight—mostly overcast by the crepuscular sky—he appeared as pallid and colorless as his surroundings. The only dash of color on him, except for his inky hair and clothes, and the drying blood of his enemies on his face, was the stain of vermillion on the snow where his shoulder had been.
He had healed her, but by the looks of his own injuries, he hadn’t bothered to extend the same magic to himself. He was puzzling in many ways, and she didn’t know if she wanted to delve deeper into what that meant for her and her changing perception of him. Sometimes she felt like he wasn’t so bad—like now—but other times …
Daiyu shoved those thoughts aside and crawled over to him. She would have to think about her messy feelings later. Right now, he needed her.
“Are you able to hear me?” She touched his injured shoulder and cringed at the sticky residue left behind on her fingers. Why had he pulled the dagger out of his shoulder? Wasn’t that risky since the blade would stave the bleeding? Or was she na?ve in thinking that? Had the blade been poisoned?
Daiyu looked around herself for something to clot the bleeding, but other than the corpses littering the woods, she didn’t find anything useful. Stifling a curse of her own, she went to one of the less disturbing, twisted bodies and pried the man’s sword from his cold, dead fingers. She sawed off sections of the rebel soldier’s cloak and went back to Muyang. It didn’t take her long to pad his injury with the cloth. She would have been able to do a better job if she could strip his clothes, disinfect the injury, and then bandage him, but seeing as how he was still the emperor, she figured undressing him might have been pushing her luck.
She sat beside him, unsure of what to do. Her mind was a maelstrom of wildness. Was he dying? Was he poisoned? She couldn’t rush back to the village for a healer because the place was already chock-full of rebel soldiers who would happily kill Muyang the instant they saw him. Could she make it back to the fortress while lugging him around? What would happen once the sun set? Surely, imperial soldiers would come looking for Muyang once they realized he wasn’t at the fortress—should she wait for them?
Daiyu tinkered with the now-colorless beaded bracelet on her wrist. The jade color had vanished soon after she had used the magicked item, and now it appeared like a cheap, glass beaded trinket.
“Feiyu, can you hear me?” she whispered into the piece of jewelry. She gave a quick side glance to Muyang, who hadn’t moved in the past hour. “I could really use your help right about now.”
She waited for a response, but nothing came.
“Feiyu?”
Still nothing.
Daiyu cursed and almost flung the bracelet across the woods, but thought better of it at the last second. She rubbed the smooth beads absentmindedly and looked between Muyang’s unconscious state, the gloomy sky that foretold either snow or rain, and then the corpses. She wanted nothing more than to leave this place in the woods—where so much death and chaos had occurred—but she wasn’t too fond of the idea of dragging Muyang through snow, branches, and who-knew-what.
“Wake up. Please.” She patted Muyang’s cold cheek. Under normal circumstances, she could be executed for touching the emperor without permission. She could imagine Muyang’s court, and all the gossipy women in the Lotus wing, gasping at how inappropriate all of this was. She wondered what they would think of her behavior thus far. It was scandalous, for sure, and she deliberated if a noblewoman would have acted the same way.
She stared down at the harsh planes of Muyang’s sculpted jaw, his long lashes, and his soft mouth. For a moment, she wanted to run her fingers through his silken hair—just because—and she wanted to touch those lips with her fingers. A blush spread over her face the more she studied him, and she finally had to rip her gaze away to stop her creeping. He truly was too beautiful to be an evil emperor.
“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, but I reckon I’d be dead without you so … I suppose I should thank you?” Daiyu murmured, pulling her legs to her chest and hugging herself tightly. A light flurry of snow danced from the sky and powdered his leathered, scaly armor. “Well, to be fair, if you hadn’t chosen me to be your bride, I wouldn’t be in this mess, so I suppose I don’t have to thank you.”
She sighed and peered up at the sky. She would probably have to make a decision soon: leave him behind to search for help, or drag him all the way to the fortress? Surely, the rebel soldiers would come here looking for their missing brethren, so she doubted they could stay here for too long.
“Aren’t you supposed to be all powerful? I remember you doing all sorts of magic back at the fortress, so why are you unconscious now?” She nudged his uninjured shoulder with the tip of her worn-out shoes. Still, he didn’t budge. “Makes me wonder if you really are just human like me. I thought you were part demon … and part dragon.”
Daiyu dusted off the flecks of snow on her cloak and exhaled deeply, her breath misty. The temperature was continuing to drop, and it would probably only get colder once the sun set.
A groan piqued her attention and she whipped her head in his direction. Muyang’s lips twitched and he winced, his eyes still closed. She sucked in her breath and inched closer to him. Grabbing a hold of his shoulder, she shook it slightly.
“Your Majesty! Are you awake?”
He mumbled something incoherent, and Daiyu shook him harder. She needed him awake so he could warp them out of this mess. Or if he couldn’t manage that, at least walk himself back to the fortress.
“Your Majesty?”
Muyang grumbled louder, his eyes flying open. Even injured and half-conscious, he had a scowl on his face. Upon seeing her, he sighed, his displeasure rumbling over his chest. “What happened?”
“You fell unconscious.” Daiyu retracted her hand and wrung them together. “I didn’t know what to do, so I was just waiting for you to either wake up, or for your soldiers to come here and save us. Looking back, I probably should have just dragged us farther away from this place, right? Maybe so the rebel soldiers don’t follow us here? But I didn’t think I’d be able to drag your body since you’re so heavy—” She realized she was rambling and clamped her mouth shut.
He watched her neutrally and pushed himself into a sitting position. He hissed back a curse and nearly fell back onto the ground. Daiyu rushed forward and grabbed his shoulders, helping him sit up.
“Are you well?” she asked, aware that she was too close to him—his face was inches away from hers. If she leaned any closer, she’d be pressed up against him. But the thought alone made her face flush with color—why was she thinking of that when he was injured? That should have been the last thing on her mind. “You should have healed your shoulder.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to heal you if I did that.” He ran one hand over his face and cringed again. “How long have I been out?”
“Maybe an hour?”
“An hour …” Muyang pursed his lips together and stared off at the six bodies, and then up at the skyline. “We should head back to the fort.”
“Like … walk?”
“Yes.” He turned to her sharply, the blacks of his eyes appearing all the more starless and glittering against the backdrop of barren trees and crystalizing snow.
She canted her head. “But that will take us forever.”
“You’ve only been gone for half the day. If you’ve made it this far by yourself, I’m sure we can make it back in one piece,” he said dryly. “Unless you disappeared during the night, in which case, we will likely have to walk quite the distance.”
Daiyu licked her lips nervously, not wanting to tell him that was exactly what she had done. “Why can’t you just use your magic to teleport us to the fortress?”
He grimaced as he pushed himself up to his feet, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pain. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It requires too much magic. I don’t have enough to warp both of us.”
“You don’t have enough?” Another head tilt. Wasn’t he supposed to be all-powerful? Completely unmatched? It was plausible to think that she was completely out of touch with how magic really worked and how much energy it required, but she would have thought after seeing him display his deadly magic on several occasions that he was powerful enough to do more.
But perhaps that was her inexperience talking.
“Let’s go.” Muyang turned his head as if sniffing the air and stared off at the distance with narrowed eyes. Finally, he jerked his chin to the side. “The fortress is this way.”
“How do you know?”
“I can feel it.”
“How?”
“The magic of the fortress.” He shifted his weighted gaze to her, and a flash of mild irritation passed over his face, quickly overshadowed by his frown. “Come on, let’s go.”
Daiyu followed him as they headed off in the direction he had pointed to. His breaths came labored as he trudged forward, his normally neutral mask slipping to reveal pain every few seconds. Daiyu subconsciously reached forward to help him, but he waved her off.
“I can handle myself.”
“Are you sure? You don’t …” She let the sentence hang, not wanting to say what she was thinking. Was it treasonous to tell him he appeared weakened and likely needed help? He hadn’t liked it the last time she had mentioned it to him.
“I’m certain,” he said in a clipped voice.
They both walked in silence for a few minutes. With him plodding through the snow like his legs were leaden, and her trailing behind him slowly. After the fourth time of Muyang almost tripping and falling to his knees, Daiyu touched his lower back and came to stand beside him.
“Let me help,” she offered. “You can lean on me?—”
“No.” He tried pushing her away, but she didn’t relent and stood her ground.
“Your Majesty, forgive me for saying this, but you’re not in any condition to be walking alone. You need help. My help.” Daiyu squared her shoulders and stared up at him levelly. The wind blew against their faces, making her already stiff face feel tauter. But this time, she tried to lean into that stoicism. “You may not like the idea of being helped, especially not by a weak little thing like me, but we both need to get out of here as fast as possible, so I suggest you take my help.”
Muyang’s lips flattened into a thin line, but he didn’t disagree. He only nodded ever so slightly and turned his head away from her. A shiver ran down her spine at the small win and she pushed forward with him. He didn’t lean on her too much, not at first, but after ten minutes of silently walking, he put some of his weight against her shoulder. His arm was slung over her, and she had to keep her arm around his waist to help him up. The smell of jasmine and blood intoxicated her senses, and she had to keep her face as far away as possible so as to not accidentally lean into him and breathe in his scent like it was a powerful drug. It was tempting, and she blushed over her lack of control.
Meanwhile, Muyang seemed unaware of her struggle. He seemed to be fighting for every breath he took. His forehead quickly dotted with sweat the more they traveled and his breathing became more ragged. It became too much for her to simply ignore.
“Are you poisoned, Your Majesty?”
“I hope not. Why?”
“You appear …” She struggled with a polite way to say that his injuries didn’t seem that severe, and yet he was completely winded. But any way she twisted it, it came across as rude and inconsiderate.
“Weak?” he finished with a snarl.
Daiyu shrank within herself, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
“No—”
Muyang scoffed. “Daiyu, you have no reason to lie to me.”
She had all the reason to lie to him, repeatedly. Because he was a terrifying emperor, because he was all too powerful, because anything she said could be used against her, because her life wasn’t her own when she was around him. But she bit her tongue and didn’t divulge that.
Another strong gale blew against them, and Daiyu couldn’t help but shiver as the cold seeped into her bones. Muyang shuddered beside her, and she somehow felt better that she wasn’t the only one suffering. That he too was human enough to feel the discomfort of the frigid temperature.
Fifteen minutes must have passed before Muyang spoke again. And when he did, he didn’t look at her, instead keeping his steely gaze forward. “I can’t use much magic anymore and when I do, it takes a huge toll on me.”
She blinked over at him. Had she heard right? Had he … told her a secret? That sounded like private information that could have her killed. In fact, that sounded like something he would never, ever disclose to anyone.
“You said ‘anymore.’ Did something … did something happen?” she asked quietly, her voice almost drowning away with the currents of wind.
“Everything changed when I took the throne.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. She had heard wild stories of his conquests on the battlefields during the rebellion where he took power. She had heard of him leaving behind scorched, unrecognizable corpses. Of his soldiers having to wade through the blood of his enemies after every victory. Of the dense air stinging with magic after he was done blighting his foes.
She had thought they were partial truths, but now she wasn’t so sure. Were they all lies? Or did something happen during his usurpation of the throne that weakened him? She had too many questions, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to bear the weight of the answers.
“Is it smart of you to tell me this?” Daiyu asked slowly. “I’m not going to be killed for knowing this, will I?”
He chuckled, low and soft, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. For a split second, she marveled at how beautiful he looked when he laughed. “After all the trouble I went through to save you, I don’t think I’d want to waste it by murdering you here.” There was a joking quality in his tone, but she jolted at how easily he spoke of her death. “I doubt you’d tell a soul. It wouldn’t be wise for you, especially since you’re to be my wife. It would do you better to want the best for me because if someone did depose me, then you know for a fact that your fate is to join me, do you not?”
Daiyu shivered but not from the cold and didn’t meet his gaze after that. Truthfully, after an emperor was killed or overruled, it was common for all of his women to die with him. She doubted the rebels would want to keep her alive—other than for touting her around like a war trophy—if Muyang was killed by them. It wouldn’t have been outlandish for his own trusted men to kill her if anything were to happen to him, as to save Muyang from the disrespect of having his woman ravished by another.
A sour and bitter taste coated her mouth. “I don’t particularly like the idea of dying terribly, so I’ll keep your secret safe with me.”
“I expected as much.”
“But we’re not married, yet.”
“True, but you’re already mine.” He said it with so much certainty that she could only stare at him. Did it come easily to him to take whatever he wanted? She shook her head. She would have to chalk it up to him being an emperor.
“You never did explain to me what you’re doing out here,” Muyang said, glancing down at her with cold, inky eyes that told her he wouldn’t accept any excuses.
She almost tripped over a random tree root buried in the snow and had to right herself against a partially frozen tree. Thankfully, Muyang kept himself upright. She cleared her throat and tightened her hold on his waist. “Well … I’m sure you noticed my absence.”
“Not at all.”
“Really?” She turned to him with wide eyes, and the corner of his mouth rose into a half-smirk. It took her a second to realize he was joking. She coughed, trying to hide her surprise and embarrassment. “W-well, I … I decided to leave the fortress last night. And, well, things happened and I somehow ended up being chased by those ruffians. I believe they thought I was a part of your forces.” She patted the dragon clasp of her cloak. “Anyhow, you really should deal with those rebels. There’s a small army of them in the nearby village. Maybe thirty or forty men.”
“I’ll deal with them when the time comes, but I’m more interested in knowing why you left the safety of the fortress. Surely, it’s not because you’re a spy.” His voice hardened at the last part, and there was an edge in his steely voice that made her blood run cold.
“I’m not a spy,” Daiyu said. “I thought we already established that?”
“You’re very suspicious. In many ways. Contrary to what you said, I don’t think you’re a weak little thing.” Muyang’s black eyes bored into hers and something fluttered in her chest, warming the pits of her stomach and turning her legs gel-like. “You’re fierce and gentle, in such a way that I don’t know how to handle you.”
“You don’t have to handle me in any way.”
His lips twisted into a smile. “There it is, that little spark you keep trying to hide from me. I see it from time to time.”
Daiyu’s cheeks warmed and she didn’t meet his gaze again.
His voice softened. “Did you leave because you no longer wished to be in my presence?”
She couldn’t answer him and stared up with wide eyes. He had hit the nail on the head, and she wasn’t sure she was bold enough to admit it. But she didn’t have to. He could probably read it all over her face. Instead of lashing out at her, he remained neutral, almost too calm.
“And how did you summon me whilst in that fray with those scum?”
Holding up her wrist so he could see her bracelet, she shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think I used this.”
His eyes narrowed, and something flitted across his face—surprise, maybe? “And where did you get that?”
“I …” She licked her lips. “I found it?—”
“Don’t lie to me.” The sharpness of his tone made her flinch.
“It was given to me.”
“By whom?”
She hesitated to answer. He had reacted terribly when she had used Yat-sen’s magic and she doubted he would react better to knowing Feiyu was helping her. She also didn’t want to get the high mage in trouble, not like she did with the poor prince. “One of the mages at the palace. I don’t know who, but he gave it to me and said it could be useful.”
“One of my mages approached you?” He almost stumbled when his foot caught against a slippery, icy, jagged edge of a rock, and he nearly took Daiyu with him. They both scrambled forward, holding on to each other for support.
“Are you o?—”
“One of my mages approached you?” he repeated, standing straighter and pinning her with a displeased scowl. Even weakened, sweaty, and splattered with blood, he appeared as vicious as he had in the fortress hall when he was displaying his monstrous magic.
Daiyu nodded, not trusting herself to speak without giving away her lie.
“You’ll have to point him out to me later,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t like the idea of my men acting without my permission, especially when it concerns you.”
She didn’t know how to take that—as a compliment, or not—so she said nothing.
Their not-so-merry jaunt continued in silence once more. When the sky darkened and the winds grew stronger, they took a break and huddled against a copse of dense trees, both of them shivering in the wintry temperature. Daiyu’s teeth chattered and she hated that the weather up here in Geru, the northern part of the empire, was so frigid and unlike the rest of the country.
Daiyu’s mouth was parched, her stomach was growling, and the bitter cold didn’t help either. She hugged herself tightly and watched as Muyang sagged against one of the trees, his eyes closed and his expression more tranquil than hers could ever be.
“Why are you so calm?” She leaned against the cool, rough bark of the tree and brought her knees to her chest. Her butt and the back of her thighs were wet from the snow and she hated the combination of stiffness, dampness, and frozenness.
One dark, delicate eyebrow arched. “Do you expect me to be quivering in fear at such a minor inconvenience?”
“Well, you are quivering.”
“In fear?” He scoffed, and she couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her lips. “War is far worse than this could ever be. Besides, my magic will recoup itself in the morning and we can be on our way in no time.”
Daiyu nodded slowly. “So you’re not afraid because you have magic.”
“If you’re trying to say my lack of fear is because of my power, you’re incorrect. I’m not afraid because I have faith in myself to survive. That’s all.”
She rested her head against the tree and felt the ridges across her scalp as she turned her head away from the biting breezes. How nice it must have been to believe in oneself so much, she thought with a frown. She wasn’t sure if she had that same determination.
“It is often the smallest of creatures that have the highest drive for survival,” he murmured as if reading her thoughts. He was sitting only a few inches away from her, their faces close together as they leaned against the same thick tree. His black gaze flicked to her lips, and she resisted the urge to blush as she ripped her attention away from him.
Daiyu placed her chin on her knees and curled into a tighter ball, her face flaming. “Are you suggesting you’re a small animal? Perhaps I should call you little dragon, then.”
Muyang’s laugh startled her. He raked a hand through his dark hair, his body trembling with chuckles as he peered over at her. There was something otherworldly beautiful about him; like the stars themselves would shine brighter so long as he smiled. It was such a bizarre, poetic, magical feeling that Daiyu had to bury her face deeper against her knees to keep from staring at him like a lovestruck fool.
It was just his outer appearance. Nothing else about him was good. At least that’s what she told herself, and a part of her believed it too.
“You shouldn’t strain yourself too much. You’re injured.” Her nerves seemed to fire up all at once, and she toyed with the beaded bracelet to distract herself from her thoughts.
“I’ve been healing myself throughout the day, so you don’t have to worry about me.”
“I wasn’t … I wasn’t worried.”
“Hm.” He tilted his head to the side, inching closer to her. “You’ve grown bolder lately.”
“Excuse me?” She pushed a messy strand of hair behind her ear. Throughout the journey—perhaps when she climbed down from the fortress walls—she had lost all her hairpins, so her hair was loose and wild from the weather.
“You left the safety of my walls, you’ve insulted me several times, and now you lie through your teeth.” He didn’t say it with any ire, only mild amusement, but it still caused a ripple of anticipation to run through her body. “But I suspect this isn’t the first time you’ve lied to me, or the first time you’ll ever disobey me.”
Daiyu picked at the dried blood crusted on her skirt, where the arrow had wounded her. She definitely didn’t want to tell him that he was right on the mark, but she couldn’t bring herself to refute him either. “I didn’t disobey you,” she mumbled.
“You aren’t the type to listen often.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
Muyang lifted a shoulder, a light dusting of snow falling with the motion. “Perhaps not for the average man. But I am the emperor and everyone must obey me.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” she murmured. She desperately needed that reminder. No matter how nice or charming he seemed right now, his true colors were that of an overbearing monarch who didn’t take no for an answer.
An uncomfortable quietness washed over them. Daiyu bundled herself tighter within her cloak and snapped her teeth together to keep them from chattering too loudly, then stared off at the mounds of snow in the distance and the dark trees. Her stomach growled and she shoveled snow into her mouth with a rigid hand.
“Are you really part dragon?” she blurted out when she couldn’t withstand the silence any longer.
Muyang pinned her with a neutral expression she couldn’t read. “Why do you ask?”
“Aren’t dragons”—she licked her lips, hating that she sounded so na?ve and so much like the country bumpkin she was—“supposed to breathe fire and be warm all the time?”
“I’m not part dragon,” he said slowly. “But … I do have dragon’s blood running through my veins.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes.” He stared off into the distance, his jaw stiffening as he seemed to think about something. “It’s given me dragon-like properties for sure, but I was not born this way.”
“What properties?”
“I appear youthful.”
She blinked at him; she had expected an answer about his great strength, or the magical abilities he had, or something of that nature. Not about his appearance, but now that she looked at him, the pieces clicked together. Of course he couldn’t be a twenty-something emperor with all that experience under his belt. “Then how old are you?”
“Not much older than you. Add a decade or so and you have my age.”
“You’re in your thirties?”
“Later thirties, but yes.”
“That’s …” She couldn’t hide her disappointment, but upon meeting his critical gaze, she shrugged. “You’re not old either way. You’re still in your youth …”
“You sound dissatisfied.” He raised both eyebrows, his shadowy eyes gleaming with amusement. “Well, forgive me for not being a three-hundred-year-old dragon, but alas, I am but a mortal man with magicked blood.”
Daiyu laughed, and for the first time since they interacted with one another, she smiled over at him genuinely. They were too close to each other. His face was so close to her that she could touch their noses together with a simple push. And a part of her wanted to bridge the gap between them, even as something stronger within her resisted.
“I would have been more impressed if you were an immortal.” She couldn’t help the teasing quality in her voice, and it surprised her more than it should have—for her to feel so at ease around him in that moment. “I was hoping to marry an immortal thousand-year-old dragon, but I suppose?—”
You will have to do, she finished in her head.
Whatever cheerful mood they had going between them seemed to fizzle out as Daiyu tucked her chin against her knees once more. Her mind traveled to the muddy thoughts she had earlier in the day and the choices she made to lead up to this moment.
She had been trying to escape him. She had been trying so, so hard to change this fate he had imposed on her. She didn’t want to marry him. She didn’t want to be his. And yet …
“Your Majesty,” Daiyu whispered, turning to him with wide eyes. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ribcage, her palms growing clammy and her stomach twisting with nausea. She had to make a decision, she realized, and it was now or never. “If … or, more like, when we marry, what will happen to my family?”
Muyang didn’t even blink. “They will be taken care of, if that’s what you wish. Your family has been good to you, have they not?”
She nodded mutely.
“Then they will be looked after very well.”
Feiyu had mentioned the same thing. And now, with her final worry seeming to abate, there was nothing holding her back anymore. This, she decided, was probably for the best. If she married Muyang, then her family would never have to worry about anything anymore. Whoever was threatening her family would back off once Muyang offered his protection. All of her worries about her family would disappear if she married him.
But there were so many sacrifices she would need to make—so many sacrifices that were necessary for any woman married to the emperor. She would have to be satisfied with being one of many. She would have to put up with his court, especially the other women in his court and in his favor. She would have to be content with the risk of being cast aside or disfavored by him in the future. She would have to deal with her children potentially being treated differently since she was a commoner.
There was so much of herself that she would have to give up, and she didn’t want to.
But this was the only solution that would bring true peace and prosperity for her family. Her elderly parents wouldn’t have to worry about food, or the rice fields, or their harvest. Her grandmother could finally relax after a long life of labor. Her siblings could have a chance at an education and marrying into a higher status. There would be no more danger upon them either.
And with the way Muyang was right now with her, she could imagine herself being content with him. She didn’t love him, but it didn’t really matter. She wouldn’t marry him because of love—that was outside her scope.
“All right then,” she whispered, a part of her wilting and another part of her coming to terms with her decision.
She had made up her mind.
She would marry Drakkon Muyang. Not for love, but for everything he offered—power, wealth, and status. And she promised herself in that moment if she ever felt like she had made a mistake, she would flee from him with everything she had, even if it killed her.