Empire’s Curse (Drakkon #1)

Chapter 37

Daiyu couldn’t stop crying uncontrollably. The torrent of tears just wouldn’t stop, even when they were warped outside, the night chilling her down to her bones. It lashed against her and ripped her hair from its intricate updo that had taken the servants forever to do. Feiyu didn’t say a word the whole time; he only stood there a few feet from her, watching her.

“You probably think I’m a fool.” Daiyu fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands, and her tears streaming down her cheeks and puddling onto her palms. “A stupid, stupid fool.”

The wind howled above her again, drying her cheeks and stinging her eyes. Feiyu didn’t move, his long, midnight hair streaming behind him with every powerful gust.

“Daiyu, what happened?” he asked quietly, his voice almost lost to the night.

Her throat tightened. The humiliation she had felt just moments ago reared its head again, making her want to fall into fits of tears once more. She could still see the throngs of people staring at her, laughing as she stood there, awestruck and completely blindsided when Muyang had chosen Yanlin to light the lantern. She could imagine the whispers and gossips that would come to light by the morning. Her stomach clenched together again.

She squeezed her eyes shut as if that was enough to eliminate the images from her mind. As if it was enough to make her forget Yanlin’s cruel smile when she placed her hand in Muyang’s.

“He embarrassed me in front of everyone.” Her voice cracked and she raised her chin to stare at Feiyu. The trees swayed all around him, their limber, long branches appearing like black tendrils in the night. She could make out the lights of the capital far, far in the distance. “He chose her, Wang Yanlin, to light the lantern for the Autumn Festival. It should have been me. And now everyone believes she’s the rightful empress.”

“Daiyu …”

“I hate them all!” She grasped the ends of her hairpins and tore them from her hair. She tossed them on the ground at his feet and continued ripping the rest of the jewelry from her hair. Her chest heaved with every strangled sob. “I was never going to fit in with the rest of everyone! I was never going to be a proper empress! He told me that he would make me his empress, so why would he betray me like that? Why would he choose her, of all people?! Did he really care so little for me that he would humiliate me in such a manner? Do you know what the people looked like when they realized he chose Yanlin?” Daiyu angrily tossed the last of her gold hairpin. It bounced against the rocks and pebbles and disappeared into a thicket of weeds. “They laughed at me.”

Her hair whipped around her face, some strands sticking against her damp cheeks. She wiped her face vigorously before sinking down to her knees again. When she was too tired of crying and screaming, she finally succumbed to the numbing cold. It dried her face and froze every ounce of rage within her until she was an empty shell of nothing.

Feiyu tilted his head and the dragon-mask looked even more frightening here, with the night canopying them and the rough, mountainous terrain. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Daiyu’s lower lip trembled. “No.”

“All right.” He dropped down a foot away from her into a sitting position. “Then I’ll just wait until you’re ready to go back.”

“I don’t want to go back.” She curled into a ball and tucked her chin against her knees. “I don’t want to go there and have everyone laugh at me again. They think I’m nothing more than a farm girl. Someone who doesn’t belong. I can tell they’re all laughing at me every time they see me.”

“Is that what they told you?”

“No, but I have eyes and ears and I’m not dumb.” More tears threatened to spill and she blinked them away. “Do you know that even the servants don’t treat me like a proper lady? They never talk to me, they look at me coldly, and they act as if everything I ask of them is a nuisance. Like … like they’re attending to someone who’s supposed to be working with them.”

“Ah, is that so?”

“Yes. It is.” She frowned. “You must know what I’m talking about. I’m not crazy and it’s not all in my head.”

“I believe you. I know what it’s like to not belong.” His voice carried a soft, sad tune that she turned her head toward almost immediately. He was staring at the horizon. “I know what it’s like to have people whisper behind your back. To have everyone think you’re beneath them. To be abused. To be … treated like you’re less than.”

“Feiyu …” She thought back to the serpent and moon mark she had seen on his forearm, but she couldn’t find the words to ask him what it meant. What it must have been like to grow up as a royal and to have everything ripped from him when Muyang took the throne.

So she instead followed his gaze. They were on the mountains, she realized a second later. The city lights were just as bright as they were when she was on the palace rooftop, but they twinkled in a way that reminded her of a dying star, slowly fading as some people retired for the night.

“Where are we?” she whispered.

“The mountains outside the capital. I like to come here when I want to clear my thoughts.”

“Oh.”

“It’s quite beautiful when it’s daylight.” He glanced over at the shrubs and trees and boulders, all of which appeared like shadowy blobs in the darkness. “Especially in the early morning, you can hear the birds singing to one another and the gurgling of the nearby stream. The trees sway and creak, the leaves rustle, and the animals scurry … it’s beautiful and quiet, and it helps me think.”

Daiyu watched him from the corner of her eye. “It’s probably hard to think in silence at the palace. There’s so much hustle and bustle there.”

“Yes, and there are so many distractions.”

“I like it here too.”

She could have sworn he was smiling from behind his mask. “Yes … I thought you would.”

They were both quiet for a long time after that. The only sound between them was the whoosh of the wind and the wavering of the trees. Daiyu closed her eyes and wanted to disappear into the darkness of the night. To forget about all the pain and humiliation.

“I’ll never be a proper empress,” she finally said, refusing to meet his gaze. “I knew what it meant to be the wife of the emperor when I married him, but I thought I could handle it. I thought I could handle the idea of him being with multiple women. With him having dozens of kids with other women. With him gallivanting around with beautiful women who are so much better than me in every way. But the instant I saw him with Yanlin and when I realized he had chosen her to do the lantern lighting, it’s like … something snapped inside me. I don’t want to be a second, third, or fourth choice. I don’t even want to be the first choice if it means he’ll have a dozen more after me. I want it to just be me and him, and I know that will never happen.” Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t try to stop them. “I had no idea it would hurt this much.”

She knew what it meant when she married him. She had thought she had grappled with the idea of it and accepted it, but she hadn’t. And she felt more pathetic and miserable because of it.

“I don’t want to be here anymore, Feiyu.” Daiyu was suddenly tired—so very tired. “I want to go home. This is all too much for me.”

“Daiyu …”

“I’m not strong enough to be there.” She rubbed her face with her arm. “I don’t want to face him again. I don’t want to see him with her or with someone else.”

She could feel Feiyu staring at her, but she kept her eyes averted. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment she was sure was there. He probably thought she was so weak-hearted. So easily breakable and foolish. It wasn’t like she had run into this marriage without knowing what it meant, and yet at the first sign of Muyang being interested in someone else, she cracked.

Daiyu breathed out shakily. “I want to go home. Do you think you can do that for me? Take me away from here?”

“Maybe you’re not cut out for the royal life.”

Even though it was something she had come to the conclusion to, hearing him say it out loud sent a painful pang through her heart. She swallowed down the bitterness clawing up her constricted throat.

“Maybe it’s better for you to go back to your farm life,” he said quietly. “Where life is easier.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak. Maybe she was cursed to never love anyone, or be loved by anyone. She should have realized it when Heng died on the battlefield. She wasn’t meant to be with anyone. She was supposed to grow old alone.

“Will you take me back?”

“What will you do about the emperor?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “We’ll just pack up our things and leave.”

“Do you really want to do that?”

She pursed her lips together. There were so many things she wanted, but that didn’t mean they were meant to be. All she knew was that she couldn’t go back to the palace. She didn’t want to see Muyang again. She didn’t want to face Yanlin and the other nobles. She didn’t want to repeat the humiliation she had felt tonight.

“Yes, I want to go home.”

He stretched his hand out to her. “Then let’s go.”

Daiyu didn’t hesitate to rest her fingers into his. His hand curled into hers and all at once, their mountainous surroundings distorted and twisted. In a split second, the chilling winds from the mountains disappeared, replaced by a gentle breeze. Daiyu gasped and blinked; they were suddenly in a field of flowers. She knew where they were immediately. She could have recognized it by the smell alone.

Even in the night, she could make out the tree Heng had carved their names into. She had played in these fields countless times as a child, but it was only now, when she was sitting here with Feiyu that she felt more in tune with her nostalgic childhood haven.

She was finally home.

Daiyu clambered to her feet, spinning around to take in the flower fields before she turned to Feiyu. “How did you know about this place?”

“You showed it to me once. Remember? In your dreams.”

“Oh. Right.” If she were in a better mood, she would have talked to him more, told him stories about how she used to play here with her siblings, or told him about Heng. But she was drained of all emotions. She was nothing more than a numb shell.

“Daiyu—” A startled gasp escaped from Feiyu and he fell down to one knee. He clutched the front of his chest, the mask nearly falling off his face in the process. Daiyu lurched forward, her hand flying to his shoulder to help steady him.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s—” He breathed out shakily and gently eased her away. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“But, Feiyu, are you sure?”

His breathing was still shallow when he straightened. “I’m fine. Just … go home, Daiyu.”

She didn’t want to leave him, not when he sounded like he was in so much pain, but there was a warning in his tone that frightened her. She backed away from him, torn between running back home and staying with her friend.

“Daiyu, I’m fine.” Feiyu stepped away from her. “Go home. Please.”

“I don’t want to leave you?—”

“You must.” He waved her off and the lighthearted nature of his tone eased some of her discomfort. “I’m fine, Daiyu. I’m the head mage of the empire, remember? I was just surprised about something. Nothing more, nothing less. Now stop worrying and scurry back home.”

Daiyu hesitated.

“I have to go back to the palace. If I’m gone for too long, people will grow suspicious. So go, Daiyu.”

She finally nodded and began walking down the path that led to her home, albeit slowly. He watched her the entire time, and it wasn’t until she was a dozen feet away from him that she whirled around to face him again.

“Thank you for being my friend in the palace, Feiyu.” Her words pierced through the silence, carrying over to the swaying fields of flowers. “I wouldn’t have survived without you. Thank you for everything.”

He only nodded. And not for the first time, she wanted to tear that mask away to reveal his true emotions, to see what he was hiding from the world. She balled her hands together, her chest squeezing painfully. She would miss him, she realized. He was perhaps the only true friend she had made there.

“We had a bargain,” she said. “You wanted something from me in exchange for helping me, remember? Well, tell me what you want and I’ll try to help.”

“There’s only one thing I’ve only ever wanted from you, Daiyu.”

She waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. He only watched her. The tall grass oscillated against his feet, the flowers and weeds joining in the dance and buoying with the gentle breeze. His mask looked black in the night.

Finally, he murmured, “I just want you to be happy. Do that for me, all right?”

She blinked.

Why did he sound so … sad? So quiet? “Feiyu?”

“Goodbye, Daiyu.”

She stepped forward, her hand stretching out like she could cross the distance between them in a split second, when his form rapidly changed in the blink of an eye. One second, he was a man, and the next, the mask flew off his face and scales erupted over his body. Powerful wind blew against her, ripping her hair behind her and sending her skirts billowing against her trembling legs. She stumbled back, mouth agape, as a giant white dragon stood a few feet away from her. He glimmered silver in the moonlight, his iridescent scales appearing like shimmering water.

He was … beautiful. Like nothing she had seen before.

His eyes were two large pools of midnight, and he was staring at her.

“F-Feiyu?” she whispered.

The dragon stretched out his long neck and massive, leathery wings. He stepped closer to her, his face inches away from her. His hot breath steamed over her face and he continued to stare at her as if waiting for her to do something. Daiyu placed a hand against the side of his colossal face. The scales were smooth and slippery. He closed his eyes, a sigh seeming to escape from the gaps of his sharp, pearl-like teeth.

He backed away suddenly, his large wings flapping and sending her nearly flying backward. Without another sound, he soared up into the sky, his tail whipping behind him in a stream of silver light.

“Feiyu! Feiyu!” Daiyu’s words seemed to fall on deaf ears as the dragon rose higher and higher, disappearing into the night sky.

Tears filled her eyes again.

“Goodbye, Feiyu.”