Empire’s Curse (Drakkon #1)

Chapter 24

The rest of their travel to the fortress wasn’t as arduous as Daiyu anticipated it would be. During the night, Muyang had placed a magical shield over their bodies that kept them warm, and by the morning, the weather had cleared up enough that traveling was bearable. By the time they arrived at the fortress in the evening, Daiyu was starving, but otherwise fine. She scarfed down every bit of food given to her, and before she knew it, it was nightfall once more.

Daiyu pulled the silk covers of her blanket over her body and turned on the plush mattress in Muyang’s room. Thankfully, since arriving at the fortress, she hadn’t come across her betrothed, who was too busy getting back to work and, likely, eradicating the rebel soldiers in the nearby village. She was more than happy to be left alone, especially now that she had made up her mind about marrying him. Although she was final with her decision, there was a small part of her that didn’t want to come to terms with it.

But right now, with the loneliness of night, she wondered what he was doing. She had been engaged once before, with her childhood friend Heng, but everything about this betrothal was completely different. For one, she didn’t know Muyang like she had known Heng. She had known everything about Heng and loved him dearly, but she didn’t feel the same with Muyang. But … she also felt things with Muyang that she hadn’t felt with Heng. She hadn’t felt dark, guilty attraction. Her stomach didn’t warm at the sight of Heng’s face, nor did her body tingle with anticipation anytime he was near. Her chest hadn’t felt tight any time he had been close to her. And she certainly had never thought about touching him or even kissing him.

She touched her mouth lightly, her face flushing with warmth. What was she thinking?

Daiyu yanked the covers over her flaming face and curled into a tight ball. She needed to focus on surviving in Muyang’s court and it was better for her not to think of such … strange thoughts. And it was even better that Muyang wasn’t around for her thoughts to tarry.

Days passed without incident. Daiyu didn’t run into Muyang even once during her stay at the fortress. She had thought that maybe she would run away when she came in contact with him—for fear of how she would act around him now that she knew she would marry him—but she couldn’t even execute her plan since she didn’t see the man anywhere. It got to the point that she tried searching him out from time to time. She would walk the halls of the fortress, peek into the dining hall, and even wander the courtyards. But alas, the emperor was nowhere to be seen.

Daiyu fastened her mulberry-colored cloak tighter around her body and folded her sheep-skin gloved hands together on her lap. Her butterfly hairpins were studded with amethysts and every time she turned her head, the jangle from the dangling charms at the end of them startled her. She hoped she appeared like a proper noble lady, but she had no clue if she was actually succeeding. All she knew was that she was actually putting in an effort in her appearance, and Muyang wasn’t even around. It made her wonder why she even cared, but at this point, it was just to spite him.

Soldiers sparred in the open courtyard, their breaths streaming white and their clothed bodies dampening with sweat. She had grown accustomed to the sound of steel clashing against steel, and even now, with the cacophony of drawn weapons and men grunting, she remained unperturbed. Daiyu drummed her fingers over her knees and watched the flurry of movements in mild boredom. It was still better than being cooped up in her room, though.

“Lady Daiyu?”

She turned her head and squinted against the harshness of the sun as Atreus came to stand a few feet away from the bench she sat on. His burned-honey-colored hair was brushed neatly back, and there was a sheen of sweat glistening on his tan face and neck.

“Oh. Atreus.” She smiled at him and partially covered her eyes against the sunlight glare. “I didn’t realize you were sparring here.”

He shifted away from the brightness and motioned to the spot beside her. “May I?”

“Certainly.”

He sat down on the cool stone bench and leaned against the backrest with a soft sigh. The ends of his damp hair curled against his neck, and Daiyu glanced over at the cross-collared, black and red military uniform he wore. “You look more in your element now that you’re not associated with bandits,” she commented half-jokingly.

The corner of his mouth rose and he rubbed the nape of his neck. “Ah, yes. I don’t think I make a very good bandit. I apologize if I appeared vagrant and crude.”

“Not at all.” She turned to watch the sparring soldiers once more. Their weapons glimmered in the harsh light as they moved strategically. “You were only doing your job, and you did a splendid job at that too, if I may add. I might not be here if not for you.”

“I’m sure you would have found a way to escape.” He watched her from the corner of his eye. “Just like how you escaped this fortress. An impressive feat.”

An unexpected laugh bubbled from her and an embarrassed flush climbed up her throat. “Oh, trust me, that wasn’t impressive at all. I was running on pure determination, naivety, and blind luck.”

“You managed to shock His Majesty, and not much surprises him these days,” Atreus said with a hesitant smile. He laced his rough, calloused hands together, and the wind gently tousled his hair. “I wish you could have seen his face. Everyone in the room was terrified that he would kill us all for our negligence. Imagine our surprise when he laughed.”

Daiyu tilted her head to watch him better. She hadn’t heard this side of the story. She had assumed Muyang hadn’t really cared whether she was in the fortress or not, or she had assumed he would be full of rage at the prospect of her fleeing from him. But laughing? She wasn’t sure if his reaction had been from amusement or shock—or a mixture of both—but she found herself blushing, if only a tad bit, at the prospect of catching him off guard.

“He was probably just laughing at ways to end me.”

Atreus gave her a puzzling look. “Why would you think that?”

“Hm?” She shook her head, her smile slowly fading. She had been half-joking when she had said that, but truthfully, no matter how charming of a man he was, or how wickedly beautiful he was, there was no denying that he was lethal. And that he wouldn’t hesitate to cut off the short end of any stick that dragged him down. “Well, he’s Emperor Drakkon Muyang. Of course that’s what he would be thinking? You even said it yourself. You and everyone in that room assumed he might punish you all for me escaping.”

“Yes, but he wouldn’t actually hurt you. You’re the woman he chose as his bride.”

She remembered the way he had held a dagger to her throat, and she suddenly didn’t feel as warm and fuzzy as she had minutes ago. “Don’t tell me you believe that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill either of us if we disobeyed or displeased him?”

“I’m sure he’d at least hesitate.”

Daiyu couldn’t help but burst into sardonic laughter. “Yes, yes, I’m sure that’s what he’ll do. Right before he?—”

“I’m joking,” Atreus said with a soft chuckle of his own. “I’m quite aware of His Majesty’s personality. Though I doubt he would actually kill us if we displeased him. Unless, of course, we committed treason.”

Daiyu wanted to laugh along with him, this time more cheerfully, but she found she couldn’t. Not when an image of Prince Yat-sen flashed in her mind. She curled her hands over the edge of the bench and peered down at her pointed silk slippers. Tiny bluish-purple lotuses were embroidered on the sides of the shoes, distracting her momentarily.

“Atreus,” she said quietly, her heart racing with sudden anxiety and guilt. “What happened to Yat-sen? I haven’t seen him since …”

The statement hung in the air for a few moments and Daiyu wasn’t keen on finishing it. Yat-sen had been punished because of her, and she feared the worst for the youth. Knowing what she did about Muyang, there was no way he would spare the boy.

“Since the incident,” Atreus finished with a nod. “Prince Yat-sen was sent back to the palace. He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But … he’s not going to be executed for this, right?”

For a brief moment—so quickly that she almost thought she imagined it—something lit up on his face, like he knew something she didn’t. But it passed so quickly that she couldn’t decipher it or linger on it. He shook his head, his expression seeming to be made of stone. “His Majesty wouldn’t execute him for that.”

“Oh?” Daiyu sighed, but she couldn’t shake her unease. Lacing her fingers together tightly, almost like she was making a prayer, she whispered, “But how can you be so sure? I really don’t see the season why he would keep him alive, if I’m being honest. Prince Yat-sen was supposed to be …”

“He was merely a useless prince before His Majesty took the throne, and he continues to be a useless prince.”

She didn’t miss the sharpness in his tone.

Sure, Yat-sen hadn’t been the crown prince, or even next in line for the throne—in fact, he was said to be the disfavored son of the late emperor Yan—but that was before all the other princes were murdered by Muyang. Now, he was the rightful heir to a dying dynasty, and she saw no reason for Muyang to keep him alive. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to cut off all ties to the past? To what could have been?

“His Majesty has graciously allowed Prince Yat-sen, Prince Daewon, Princess Liqin, and Princess Biyu to live. I personally don’t know why he allowed them to breathe when they are remnants of a failed empire, but there is still kindness in his heart that won’t allow him to kill mere children.” Atreus stared straight ahead at two soldiers dueling one another with spears, their cloaks streaking behind them with every quick jut and lunge. His unnaturally green eyes flicked in her direction. “But the more they disappoint him, the more they will learn of his wrath.”

Daiyu turned to watch the training men, her lips pressed together tightly. She would need to learn how to navigate life in the royal palace and how to keep her head low so as not to fall under that same wrath. Muyang might have favored her for now, but who knew when that favor would run out? She didn’t want to live a miserable life. And she would have to learn of ways to escape if it came down to it.

A gentle wind jangled the tiny chimes on Daiyu’s hairpins and she shivered. “I suppose I have much to learn.”

“About?”

“Court life.”

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt when a commotion in the center of the courtyard drew their attention. Soldiers began to crowd around a particular duo of fighters. From where she sat, she couldn’t make out the fighters, but the cheers and claps made it out to be entertaining.

“I wonder what’s happening there.” She pushed herself to her feet and stretched her arms just in time to catch Atreus giving her a strange look. “What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Investigating. Aren’t you curious?” She didn’t wait for him to answer as she moved toward the circle. The soldiers made room for her when she gently pushed her way through. It didn’t take long before she was in the front lines.

Two young men circled each other. One appeared like a normal soldier, with his uniform and his obviously Huo features, but the other soldier completely took her by surprise. With a shock of long, scarlet hair that shone in the sunlight like gleaming blood, which was held together by a single leather tie, and eyes so brightly blue they appeared demon-like, he stood out from the rest of the men.

He wore a wide grin on his face, even as he sported a small cut on his neck that was profusely bleeding and staining the collar of his mustard-colored tunic. Unlike the soldier he was facing, who fought with a long sword, he wielded two short daggers.

“Who is that?” Daiyu whispered, watching in awe as he moved with such speed against his opponent. He was unnaturally lithe and moved like flowing water—beautiful to watch, but deadly at the same time.

She hadn’t realized Atreus had come to stand next to her until he spoke. “My brother.”

“Your brother?” She whipped her head in his direction to find him smiling wryly at the foreign young man. Although Atreus and the other man—who, upon closer inspection, couldn’t have been older than eighteen—both looked different than her own people, she could see that they were clearly from two different regions. This man was pale, red-haired, and blue-eyed, while Atreus was painted in shades of dark gold.

“We do not share any blood, but we grew up together under His Majesty.”

“He is a member of … the Peccata?” The word rolled off her tongue strangely and she wondered if she was saying it correctly—the name of the group of special soldiers under Muyang.

“Yes. Nikator.” The corner of Atreus’s mouth curved as the red-haired youth skillfully jumped from a lethal jab—causing a wave of oohs and aahs and cheers from the crowd. “He was supposed to come to the fortress in a few days, but he perhaps finished his assignment earlier than expected.”

Daiyu watched as Nikator carried out a string of kicks and punches against the soldier, all of them meeting their target. The rest of the fight lasted less than a minute, and Nikator had the soldier pinned to the ground with a dagger hanging inches away from the man’s heart. The whole time, his grin didn’t disappear.

Daiyu clapped when the foreign youth extended his hand to the fallen soldier and helped him to his feet. Atreus rolled his eyes when Nikator flipped his daggers in the air, spun them against his knuckles, and strapped them to his waist in one fluid, flashy move.

“Impressive as usual,” a velvety smooth, familiar voice called. All the hairs on Daiyu’s arm rose up in anticipation and she swiveled to the side to see Muyang standing a few feet away from her at the lip of the circle. She had been so entranced in the fight that she hadn’t noticed him slink by. And judging by the gasps from the soldiers—all of whom quickly lowered themselves in a bow in waves surrounding him—neither did anyone else.

Nikator’s face lit up and he lowered himself briefly in a quick bow, jumped to his feet, and stopped in front of him. “Your Majesty! How long were you standing there? Did you see the whole thing?”

“Most of it.” Muyang rested a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and Daiyu could have sworn she noticed a hint of a smile on his lips. “You’ve improved.”

“Naturally.” His smirk grew, and his teeth glimmered pearl white in the sunlight.

Daiyu’s heart thumped in her chest wildly as the two exchanged a few more words. She barely heard any of it, her brain stuttering for a good response. Was Muyang … ignoring her? What other explanation was there if he had, seemingly, gone out of his way to avoid her, and then sprang up here without even speaking to her? Her mood soured instantly, even as her curiosity for the other member of the Peccata rose.

Her messy, bitter feelings were made all the more tangled by the fact that Muyang appeared stunning in his dark leathers, the maroon-colored cross-collared tunic he wore beneath the scaly armor, and the glimmering silver hair crown that pulled his inky hair away from his face. He was nothing like the jaded and lonely emperor she hoped he would be in her absence.

Just as she was thinking those things, another voice piped in, “You both look like jealous lovers.”

She blinked over at Bohai, who was beside Muyang, and whom she hadn’t noticed at all. His light brown hair was slicked back and he had an amused smirk on his lips that she didn’t appreciate. It took her a second to realize he was talking to her and Atreus.

Muyang glanced over at them, as did Nikator. Daiyu’s face instantly flushed with warmth and she sputtered, “E-excuse me?”

Atreus glowered at Bohai. “Don’t joke with us like that, Bohai?—”

“Commander Yao Bohai,” Nikator chimed in with a snicker.

Bohai waved to the other soldiers, which they all seemed to understand since they all scattered across the courtyard and continued with their training. He ruffled Atreus’s hair, much to the youth’s chagrin. Almost immediately, Daiyu could feel the shift in the air between the group—they all seemed comfortable with one another.

Atreus swatted Bohai’s hand away. “Forgive me, Commander.” He said the last part with a sarcastic scoff and Daiyu could only stare at him in shock.

Nikator rocked on the back of his heels and slipped his thumbs into the pockets of his tunic, his expression ever-so-cheery. “Been a while, Atreus. I figured you were still stuck being a worm-brained bandit, so I didn’t bother sending you a letter or notice.”

“I was pretending to be a bandit,” Atreus said with a scowl. “Pretending.”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?”

“You—”

Bohai clapped the two young men on their backs, breaking their conversation. “You both can bicker and banter all you want later, but first, you should introduce yourself to Lady Daiyu, don’t you think, Nikator?”

Daiyu looked between Nikator, Atreus, Bohai, and then spared a quick peek at Muyang, whose gaze was glued onto her. She fought the embarrassment warming her face and turned toward the red-haired youth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, all too aware of Muyang’s eyes traveling down the length of her dress.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Nikator placed a hand on his chest and lowered his head in a sign of respect. There was a charming twinkle in his sapphire eyes that went along with his mischievous, lighthearted grin. “My name is Nikator. I see you’ve been acquainted with my brother Atreus, so I assume you’ve heard great things about me?”

Atreus rolled his eyes yet again and Daiyu released a sheepish laugh. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t heard much?—”

“What!” He shot Atreus a playful, mock-hurt expression. “Atreus. I’m wounded to think that you didn’t indulge Lady Daiyu in my greatness?—”

“I spared her the boredom.”

“Well, I certainly have heard many great things about you,” Nikator said to Daiyu with another teasing smile, one that made him appear all the more chipper. “It’s the reason I rushed over here after hearing wind of your troubles.”

Daiyu blinked back at him. What troubles was he talking about? There were a million things he could have been referring to—her family problems with the burned rice fields, her running away from Muyang, being kidnapped a few weeks ago.

Muyang didn’t offer any explanation as he watched her with an unreadable, calm look that gave away nothing of what he was thinking. In the morning light, his black eyes appeared even more like two pits of midnight.

Upon seeing her expression, Nikator raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard? I’m supposed to escort you back to the royal palace.”

“What?” She turned sharply to Muyang. She hadn’t heard anything about this. Was that why he was avoiding her? Because he didn’t want to tell her that he was going to ship her back to the palace, where she had even less freedom than she did here? At least in this fortress, she could walk and go as she pleased. The palace was no such place.

“Ah, was I supposed to tell her?” Bohai rested a gentle, gloved hand against his chest and quirked his bronze brows. “I hadn’t received any orders, so I just assumed you told her, Your Majesty.”

“I planned to tell you later tonight,” Muyang said smoothly, unperturbed while Daiyu could only sputter in front of him like a blubbering fool. His dark eyes cut over to her and she couldn’t stop the burning in her chest at how unbothered he appeared. Like it was so easy to toss her aside in the palace. Like she was an inconvenience. Like it was so easy to forget to tell her something as important as where she would be staying.

“I’m flattered you even thought to tell me,” she gritted out through clenched teeth and shifted her attention to the others in the courtyard.

An awkwardness hung in the air for a few moments, interrupted only by Bohai’s cough. “Well, how about you two spar with each other since it’s been so long?” he said.

“I would never dream of sparring with His Majesty,” Daiyu retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. It would have been a funny sight to watch—her and Muyang dueling one another when it was obvious who would be the victor. She almost snorted at how ridiculous it seemed.

“Ah. No, I meant Nikator and Atreus. Not …” Bohai burst into a fit of laughter, coughed to conceal it, but couldn’t wipe his grin off. Daiyu’s face warmed with mortification and even Atreus’s lips twitched in an almost-smile. “Not you and His Majesty.”

She clamped her mouth shut, the heat clawing up her throat. Muyang’s soft mouth curved at the corners and she wanted to sink into the ground at that very moment. Thankfully, Nikator and Atreus began a short conversation and moved farther into the courtyard to begin their fight. Bohai trailed farther away as well, giving Muyang and Daiyu privacy as he corrected other soldiers on their form.

Even though they were amidst the crowded courtyard, it seemed like there were only the two of them. Daiyu was hyper aware of Muyang’s presence, just a foot away from her, and everything in her surroundings seemed to blur into nothingness. She didn’t want to meet his gaze so she stared at a particular barren tree in the courtyard, at the swaying of its branches with every mild gust. She could feel Muyang’s eyes on her, boring into the side of her face. But she didn’t want to be the first to speak—not when she had this stinging in her chest.

“Daiyu, you appear to be displeased about something.” He inched closer to her, and the intoxicating, warm smell of jasmine and orange blossoms made her swallow.

“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you mean.” Still, she didn’t look at him. A dark feathered bird landed on one of the branches of the tree and she examined its tiny, toothpick-like legs as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Far more intriguing than the emperor by her side.

“Liar.”

“That is a big accusation to make, Your Majesty.”

“Are you displeased that we can’t spar together?” There was a teasing quality in his voice that made her blush, further exacerbated when he continued, “We can spar once we’re married. I plan to do it very often.”

“I am not upset about that.” Daiyu still didn’t look at him, but this time out of embarrassment more than spite.

“Then?”

“Nothing, Your Majesty.”

“Nothing?”

“Yes, nothing.”

He touched her chin ever so gently—so lightly that she almost felt like she had dreamed it—and she lurched back in surprise, her wide eyes flying over to him. But his hands were clasped behind his back, out of reach, and a tendril of smoke disappeared right before her eyes. She would have thought it was the wind itself, but the air smelled different and she could have sworn she had seen a shadow.

Daiyu narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you … did you just use your magic?”

“You’re finally looking at me now.” Muyang smiled as if he had won, and yet it only infuriated her further.

She huffed loudly and turned away from him. “Are you really a two-step forward, one-step backward kind of guy? And don’t tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about because I know you do. What’s this about me being sent back to the royal palace?” This time, she pinned him with a dark glower that she wouldn’t have been confident giving him over a week ago—but times were different now. They would wed each other, and she had seen an inkling of vulnerability in him earlier. This was one of the liberties she could take now, or at least she was testing it. “You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go back to the palace.”

“I didn’t,” he agreed, nodding slowly and watching her with those unreadable, shuttered eyes that gave way to no soul. “But since when did I need to tell you anything?”

“Ah, yes, you’re the emperor. You can say and do whatever you please, Your Majesty,” she said carefully, keeping her tone sharp but without too much edge, “but I would appreciate if you divulged information when it concerns me. I would have appreciated to give some input about where I go. I’m not an item to be shipped to and fro without opinion.”

“Some would argue a woman is just that.”

Her throat tightened and she searched his face for a telltale sign that he viewed her as that—an item—but she found nothing. “Is that … what you think, Your Majesty?”

“I don’t.”

Her lower lip trembled, but she wasn’t sure if it was from anger, relief, or hurt. “Then I would have liked to be a part of the decision about what happens to me.”

“I can’t have you here, Daiyu. There is no discussion to be had.” His dark eyes flicked down to her and for a split second, she spotted a hint of sympathy, but it was gone faster than it had come. “You aren’t safe here. This is a battleground and this place can easily be overrun with enemies. You could be kidnapped again, or make a reckless decision to flee and thrust yourself in even more danger. I can’t have that happen to you.”

“I won’t try to run again?—”

“It’s too dangerous here for you, and I’d rather have you somewhere safe.”

“Like the palace? Where I was poisoned? Where I was kidnapped?” She raised an incredulous brow. The other soldiers surrounding them glanced in their direction from time to time, and she lowered her tone. “I’m not safe there either.”

Muyang frowned, and she could see she had struck a nerve. “The palace is safer than here. I’ll have more protection for you at the palace, where Nikator and Vita will watch over you. Trust me when I say that they are some of my best warriors.” As if to prove a point, he motioned to Nikator and Atreus, who were fighting on equal footing. They exchanged blow after blow, their weapons glinting in the sunlight dangerously as they swiped here and there. “You’ll be protected this time.”

Daiyu didn’t like it one bit. She didn’t want to be thrown aside and forced into the palace once more. She had no allies there—except for perhaps Feiyu—and there was nothing for her to do there but look over her shoulder. There was someone after her. She was certain of that. She had been poisoned, kidnapped, and her family’s rice fields burned—someone was hoping for her downfall and actively attempting it. If she went back to Muyang’s court, there was no telling what would happen to her.

“I don’t like this at all,” she said with a loud sigh. “It wouldn’t kill you to include me in your decision on what to do with me.”

He chuckled, low and soft, and it sent shivers down her spine. He leaned closer to her, and his warm breath tickled her ear. “It wouldn’t kill you to listen either, little fiend.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“But you seem to like it.” His gaze traveled down her throat, which she was sure was bright red, and then to her flaming cheeks. “You look like a pouting, vermillion dragon. What else shall I call you other than a beautiful fiend?”

“I am not a monster,” she whispered. “And my face is red because you infuriate me.”

That only broadened his wicked grin. “Do you not like the idea of being far from me? Is that perhaps why you’re pouting so much? You can’t deal with the distance between us? Well, worry not, my dear, for when I return from battle, I will wed you and you will have all of me and we’ll have all the time in the world to explore what it means to be married.”

He was teasing her, she knew it, but her stomach coiled together and she forgot whatever retort she was going to make. She dipped her chin, hating that she was still a blushing, red fool. “I have no qualms with distance, Your Majesty.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Oh, positive.” She cleared her throat and stared at him through lowered lashes, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. “We haven’t seen each other in days and I’ve been doing just fine, and even though I’ve been alone in my bedroom—ah, your bedroom—I’ve quite enjoyed the quietness that comes with being alone. There’s a specific, calming quality to it.”

“You seem to enjoy being in my bedroom.”

“Alone,” Daiyu added, “I enjoy being in there alone, Your Majesty.”

“So you’ve been fine without me all these days?” She couldn’t read the inflection in his voice, but it was calm enough not to warrant an apology, so she nodded. Muyang only smiled thinly, and she was sure she’d annoyed him with that answer. Surely, he thought she would be pining after him like a lovestruck fool.

“I’ll be fine at the royal palace without you,” she found herself saying, even though it was the opposite of what she wanted. She wanted to spite him, that was all, and yet she felt like she had walked straight into a trap set by him.

Muyang smirked. “Ah, so we’ve come to an agreement.”

“I … I suppose we have.” She had cornered herself. Frowning deeply, Daiyu shook her head and the bells of her hair jewelry tolled softly. “I don’t like the idea of going back to the palace, but it seems as though you’ve made up your mind. And who am I to change it?”

“There are very few people who can influence my mind to change it,” Muyang said with a sweeping glance at the training soldiers, to Nikator and Atreus wrestling on the ground with plumes of dust rising between them, and then down to her. There was something alarmingly cold and distant about his expression, and it made her straighten. “And, as you are right now, Daiyu, you are not one of those people.”

A chill ran down her flesh in waves and she flinched away from him. She hadn’t expected the harshness, and she felt all the more foolish for thinking that things between them were different—that she could voice her opinion and be heard. But this was the crushing reality—he was still Drakkon Muyang, feared emperor of Huo, and she was nothing more than a simple woman he had picked up. He was not her ally.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she murmured, voice tight. “I understand.”