Chapter 39
The ride back to the palace was expectedly faster than when she had made the first trip—back when she was rushing over to rescue Lanfen. The first time around, she had walked and it had taken over a week and a half. But this time, after hitching a ride with one of her neighbors who was headed in the same direction, it only took three days to reach the capital.
Clad in one of her pale-sunflower-colored summer dress and her woven sandals, it was no wonder none of the guards recognized her. They laughed when she told them she was the wife of the emperor, and even after telling them multiple times, they still didn’t let her go through.
“Look, I’m telling the truth,” she began for what felt like the millionth time. She placed a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes at the guards, who peered down at her through the slats of their metal helmets with thinly veiled annoyance.
“It was funny the first few times,” one of the guards said, narrowing his eyes, “but now it’s just getting old. Scram, or we’ll toss you in the dungeons.”
“His Majesty won’t be happy to hear that?—”
“Scram.” He tightened his hold on his spear.
“But—” Whatever hope she had wavered as panic surged. If she couldn’t get back into the palace, what would she do? Would she be forced to go back home and forget this whole marriage altogether? Did Muyang really not want to see her at all? What if?—
“Lady Daiyu?”
She recognized the familiar, curious voice and followed her gaze in his direction. Commander Yao Bohai was a few feet away down the road by the glimmering, jade-colored palace gates. Dressed from head to toe in his black, scaly armor, he appeared more intimidating than usual. He raised a delicate, light eyebrow at the sight of her.
“You’re back? I didn’t think you’d want to return.”
“Err, well, I had some unfinished business.” She tried to smile, but her nerves got the better of her and it came out as a grimace instead. She jerked a thumb at the guards, who had gone still at the door. “Do you think you can let me inside? I wish to speak to His Majesty.”
“Ah, yes. Of course.” He nodded to the guards. They all scrambled forward, yanking the door open quickly and ushering them inside.
She shot the guards one last nasty look before sauntering inside with the commander-in-chief. When the doors shut behind them, Bohai turned to her sharply, his voice dropping. “You came at the right time, I suppose. His Majesty is not doing so well. After you left … well, things took a turn.”
Her heart nearly stopped and her steps slowed. She didn’t understand what he was saying at all. “What … do you mean?”
Bohai waved her down the hall. “Come on, let’s walk and talk.”
She hurried after him, her strides slower than his large ones. “Commander Yao—” Her voice cracked with sudden terror. “What do you mean things took a turn? A turn for what?”
“There were enemies in the palace,” he said quickly, his gaze flicking from one end of the hall to the other, and then back at her. “At the end of the evening, they attacked His Majesty. Normally, Feiyu is able to protect His Majesty, but he was nowhere to be found in the palace. You left with him, didn’t you? Because Muyang—I mean, His Majesty—told me he took you away. But anyway, Feiyu usually protects the palace since he harbors all the magic—you knew that, didn’t you? Well, he wasn’t around, and so when His Majesty was attacked, he couldn’t … he couldn’t protect himself that well.”
Daiyu couldn’t wrap her mind around what he was saying, the words spilling out too hastily, but there were a few things that began sinking in right away. Muyang was attacked. Feiyu couldn’t protect him because he was with her. Muyang didn’t have much magic ever since four years ago. He wasn’t able to protect himself?—
She swallowed down the fear tightening around her neck. “But he’s okay? Right? Muyang is all right?” Even to her own ears, she sounded small and absolutely petrified. “Commander Yao, please tell me he’s all right?—”
“He’s … hanging in there. But we can’t find Feiyu anywhere.” Bohai pursed his lips together, his steps hurrying along the polished tiles. The click click click of his boots barely registered to her reeling mind. “Feiyu has healing magic, but he’s nowhere to be found. I don’t know … why he would disappear at a time like this.”
She was supposed to return to the palace and confront Muyang about what happened at the festival. She was supposed to tell her side of things and listen to his explanation. She was supposed to tell him that she loved him.
This wasn’t how today was supposed to go.
She couldn’t believe it—Muyang was powerful, so very, very powerful. In her mind, he could never lose. And yet, and yet …
Nausea rolled over her. “Is he … is he dying?”
Bohai didn’t say anything when they stopped by a heavy-set, ornamental, gilded door with ruby-painted dragons sprawled along the tall frame. Stoic guards stood on either side of the double doors, their faces expressionless and hard. They bowed their heads in their direction and one of them grasped the gilt handle and slid it open for them.
Daiyu dragged her feet to a halt, not wanting to enter the room. She turned her wide-eyed stare from Bohai to the door, and then back at him again. “Is he—” she couldn’t finish the sentence, her lips wobbling.
“Go inside. Please.” Bohai motioned for her to enter.
“No.” Her shoulders quivered. She didn’t want to go inside. Not with this news hanging over her head. She wasn’t prepared to see Muyang in a horrible state. Was he bloodied? Battered? Completely broken?
The tightness around Bohai’s eyes softened. “He’ll be happy to see you, Lady Daiyu.”
She somehow pushed herself forward, one leg at a time, her breathing shallow as she passed through the threshold into what she presumed were his bedchambers. Inside, she noticed all the members of the Peccata scattered throughout the room. They sat on couches, the windowsill, and even on the floor by the hearth. None of them spoke, but they all turned to her sharply when the door clicked shut behind her and Bohai.
A quick scan revealed Muyang wasn’t in the room. Atreus, who sat on the couch, his hands steepled together and a deep, worried scowl on his face, nodded his chin toward the set of sliding doors leading to another section of the chambers.
Daiyu took in the grave faces all around her. The backs of her hands grew clammy and she rubbed them on her thighs distractedly. Without another word, she headed to the doors. Her hands continued to tremor as she fitted them into the grooves of the handle.
She slid the door open, hurried inside, and slid it shut. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. The only light source came from the windows, but they were covered with a thick, dark screen that obscured most of it. In the center of the room was a massive four-poster bed frame that could fit at least five people on it, and Muyang was on one side of it, his eyes shut closed. The curtains of the frame were pulled aside, revealing her seemingly comatose husband.
She inched closer, gasping at how pale he appeared. His dark hair pooled around him like inky splotches against the crisp, white sheets. With pale skin, darkness blooming under his eyes, and a shallowness to his breath that appeared like he wasn’t breathing, Muyang looked like he was on death’s doors. Thick bandages were wrapped around his chest, already seeping with a sharp scarlet.
Daiyu’s knees grew weak and she stumbled to the side of the bed, her hands grasping the edge of the mattress as she sank to the floor. “Muyang?”
Ever so slowly, his black eyes peeled open. He stared at her glassily as if he wasn’t really seeing her before a small, faint smile upturned his lips. “Daiyu? I thought I’d never see you again. I must be blessed to see your beautiful face one last time.”
“W-What happened?” All the fight that she had bolstered within herself—in which she had rehearsed exactly what to say—crumbled and disappeared altogether. She could only stare at him in stunned silence. “Commander Yao Bohai told me you were attacked.”
“I was ambushed.” He closed his eyes, a sigh on his lips. “There were four of them. They came soon after you left with Feiyu.”
Daiyu eyed the bloodied bandages around his midsection. She suddenly felt dizzy, her vision blotting with inky splotches and her limbs tingling. She clenched her hands together. This was all her fault. If she hadn’t asked for Feiyu to whisk her away back home, then Muyang might not have gotten this injured. If she hadn’t fled at the first sight of problems, then maybe … maybe there would be a different outcome right now.
“It’s better if you leave,” Muyang said suddenly. He reached forward and grasped a tendril of her long hair. “You were too good for me anyway.”
“What are you saying?”
“Go back home. Learn to love.” He wrapped her hair around his fingers ever so gently, his gaze never straying from her. “I always hurt those who are near to my heart, and I hurt you badly, Daiyu. You should find happiness elsewhere. Away from this cursed place. Away from me.”
“I-Is that what you want?” Daiyu flattened her quivering lips together. “Do you think that I would be happy leaving things as they are now? I wanted to run away from you and this place, but I have so much to say to you, and I’m not leaving without hearing a response from you.”
He released her hair. “Why did you come back?”
Seeing the state he was in, it was easy to forget about everything that had led up to this moment—she could have easily forgiven him without talking about what had happened, for fear that she would never talk to him again. But she didn’t want that. Her heart wouldn’t be able to handle losing him in this way, so soon after he betrayed her, and she knew that if she let this matter go unresolved, she would be bitter forever.
“To hear your side of the story. I realize now that I left too early without hearing what you had to say. When I saw you with Yanlin, something snapped inside of me and I wanted to escape as fast as possible.” She breathed out deeply. A part of her didn’t want to know the answer, but she needed to know. “But I see things differently now. Muyang, why did you ask her to light the lantern instead of me?”
Muyang’s hand lay limply on the bed, no longer trying to touch her or fiddle with her hair. He grimaced, turning his attention to the ceiling of the bed. “Her father asked me several months ago if I could have her do it. This was before I met you. I didn’t think it was important; it’s never been important to me, just a trivial social event that people gossip over—just like everything else in this palace, in this court. I know it holds weight for the women of the empire, but I didn’t care if that woman wanted to boast or pride herself in doing it. For me, it was nothing more than a favor for an old friend.”
Daiyu curled her hands together. She had expected an answer like this, but it sounded even more unsatisfying to her ears than she had thought it would. “And you couldn’t have told him that you changed your mind?”
“I didn’t think you would care. You … don’t seem to care for these courtly matters.”
“Is that what you find entertaining about me? The fact that I don’t know how court works?” She wanted to laugh, but her tone grew more heated, her cheeks burning. “That I’m just a stupid country bumpkin who wouldn’t know any better if you take advantage of me or humiliate me or make a fool of me in front of everyone?”
He flinched, his midnight-like eyes widening. “No, that’s not … not what I intended.”
“You could have told him that you changed your mind. That you no longer wanted her to do it because you secured yourself a wife, and you wanted to make your wife feel special rather than his daughter. You could have explained that to him,” she continued hastily. “You didn’t have to allow anything. You’re Emperor Drakkon Muyang. You don’t follow other people’s orders.”
“I know. I apologize, Daiyu.” He closed his eyes again and he looked so vulnerable in that moment that her anger quickly dissolved. “I should have prioritized your feelings over slighting Lord Wang and his daughter. I realize now that it was a foolish mistake on my part to allow it in the first place.”
“You need to talk to me more. You can’t just do these things that pertain to me and not tell me. Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to be caught off guard in front of everyone when I realized you had chosen her to light the lantern?”
“I apologize.”
“No, that’s not enough.” Her eyes burned once more but for a different reason. She relived the memory of the laughing women, the nobles eyeing her, and Yanlin’s cruel grin. “You can apologize all you want, but it’s not going to change that everyone views Yanlin as the proper empress, while I’m just a farm girl. And now it’s made even more clear that I’m not important to your court because you made it that way. You showed them that a noble’s daughter is more important to you than your own wife.”
Muyang reached for her hand. “She will never be my empress.”
“I wish I could believe you, but you betrayed my trust.”
“Daiyu, I have no plans of marrying her.” He held her hand tighter. “Even before I was attacked, I had no plans to be with her. So don’t think I’m only saying that now that I’m dying.”
She wanted to believe him, but she didn’t know what to think. She also realized how cruel it was for her to be asking this of him while he was bedridden and injured; it certainly could have waited until he was better. But she needed to know. She needed to be a bit selfish.
“You’re not going to die,” she murmured.
He rubbed her knuckles weakly with his thumb. “I never planned on marrying anyone after you. You’re more than enough for me, Daiyu.” Muyang tried to push himself into a sitting position, but Daiyu held him down in alarm.
“What are you?—”
His face wracked with pain and the bandages grew redder. “Let me sit,” he growled, eyes flashing. Daiyu freed his shoulders and he pulled himself together. He rested his back on the headboard and shifted on the mattress to make himself more comfortable. The whole time, his breathing was labored. “I won’t be lying here like a dead man while my wife is speaking about the terrible ways I’ve hurt her.”
“Muyang—”
He stared at her directly, his gaze more alert than before. “I’m sorry, Daiyu, for everything I’ve done to you. For prioritizing another man’s daughter over you. I hadn’t realized how humiliating it would be until now, and I truly do apologize for the hurt I’ve caused you.” He breathed out deeply, like talking was taking a toll on him. “I never meant to hurt you, and I hope you understand that. I hope you won’t hold it against me for too long. I … I realize now that I can’t easily make it up to you, but I want you to be my empress, Daiyu. Not anyone else.”
Daiyu searched his face for signs that he was lying, that he was only saying these pretty words because he thought that it was what she wanted to hear, or because he thought he was dying. But she only found raw sincerity there and she wanted so badly to cling to it, to believe him.
“I wish I could make it up to you.” Muyang rested his head against the backboard, his chest rising and falling with struggled breaths. “I wish I could make you believe what I’m saying. I really do, Daiyu. But … I know my time is coming near. I knew it would happen eventually. Ever since I took this throne four years ago, I realized my reign would never amount to much.”
Daiyu’s mouth dried up. “What are you saying? You’re not going to die?—”
“This place is cursed. This palace, this court, this … this empire.” He breathed out deeply, painfully. Something dark swirled in his eyes, a kind of hatred that made her flinch back. “It will be better for me to die here and for someone else to take my place. I was never meant to be more than a murderer. I have accomplished what I wanted. I have revenged who I wanted, and it’s time for me to rest now. Forever.”
“Muyang!” Daiyu took his cold hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. She didn’t understand what he was saying, but all she knew was that it terrified her. The thought of losing him, the thought of someone else taking this empire. “Why are you talking like that? You’re not going to die! You’re Emperor Drakkon Muyang. You’re the most powerful man I know. There’s no way you would die like this! We just—” A strangled sob escaped from her. “We just started our lives together. We have so much to learn about one another, so much to do, so many more years to spend with each other!”
Daiyu could have sworn there was pity on his beautiful face when he stared at her next. He reached forward with a tired, trembling hand and cupped her damp cheek. She could feel his tremors through his hand.
“I always knew I would be a curse to these lands. Ever since I was born,” he murmured, searching her face with unblinking, glassy eyes. He wasn’t here, in this room anymore, but in his memories, it seemed. Somewhere else because there was a darkness there that she had only seen glimpses of before, and now he was showing it to her full force. The tortured, angry soul that lingered behind his black, black eyes. “Remaining on the throne will tear this empire apart. I knew it would, but I had to do it. I had to spite all those people?—”
“Muyang—”
He turned to her sharply as if brought back to the present. “Daiyu, you must leave this place. Go far away, take your family with you and disappear. Live a long life with another man. Find happiness. Once Yat-sen takes the throne, I don’t know if he will be kind to you or if he will forsake you like I did his brothers.”
“No, I’m not leaving you! Not ever again.” She held the hand that was against her cheek, more tears streaming down her face. “I’m not leaving you here to die! We have to find Feiyu. We have to make him understand?—”
Muyang pulled his hand back like her touch was electric. “No,” he said quietly. “Not Feiyu. He knows the same as I do, that remaining on this throne will only throw this empire into more chaos. He realized that; that’s why he left.”
“The empire isn’t in chaos?—”
“There will always be unrest so long as I breathe and sit upon this cursed throne.”
“But, but Feiyu is loyal?—”
“He knows better than me what it means for me to remain alive.”
Daiyu’s hands shook. “What are you saying?”
“Find happiness,” he said again, mimicking Feiyu’s final words to her. “Daiyu, please. I have so many regrets to this day, but I’ve never regretted meeting you and falling in love with you. You offered me a glimmer of happiness, as short as it may have been. All I want now is for you to move on and be happy.”
She was more confused than ever. She had thought she would march up to Muyang, present to him all the problems he had caused her, wait for him to grovel and apologize, and then—hopefully—live happily with him.
This … this wasn’t how things were meant to unfold.
She hadn’t planned on losing him forever. And she never expected for him to speak so morbidly, so vaguely.
“If Feiyu won’t help you, I’m sure there are other mages who can heal.” Daiyu leaned closer to him and grabbed his face in her hands. She couldn’t find a glimmer of hope within him, only anger and resolve. She didn’t understand him at all. Why was he so bent on dying here? Why was he so certain that he would die? That he was a curse upon this empire? “Muyang, there are others who can help you, but you have to let them?—”
“Daiyu, you don’t understand.” He eased her hands off his face and she felt like he was rejecting her in that moment. “Even if these injuries are healed, my soul is dying. I will die soon. In a matter of days, perhaps.”
“W-What?” Whatever hope had filled her disappeared that second and she sank back down on her knees on the floor. She blinked over at him, not comprehending what he was saying. What he meant. “I don’t … I don’t know what you mean. Is this some sort of magical curse?”
“In a way.”
“Muyang, but … but there has to be something?—”
“Daiyu, please leave from here.” He suddenly looked exhausted. She could tell that this conversation was putting a strain on him. By the looks of it, he had already made up his mind about dying. About giving up.
“Make me understand.” She grabbed the edge of the mattress and hauled herself up to her feet. It was maddening to see him like this, to see him so unlike himself, to see him resolve himself to his fate. “I don’t understand what any of this means. Why are you so determined to die? Why won’t you accept any help? And why is your soul dying?”
Muyang shook his head, choosing to lie back down instead. “I can’t tell you, Daiyu. But know that this is for the best. For you and for this empire.” He grunted, the little color on his face draining further. “I’d like to rest for a bit.”
Daiyu felt like he had slapped her. He was clearly dismissing her, done with their conversation and not willing to listen to her pleas. He didn’t even want to explain himself.
Her hands shook with fury and she wanted to shout at him. She wanted to cry and scream. She wanted to punch something. But mostly, she just wanted the dread and uncertainty and terror to go away. She wanted him to be okay. She wanted to start their lives together. She wanted to have him by her side. Especially now that she knew she was in love with him.
She opened her mouth to say just that—to tell him she loved him—but something held her back. She couldn’t allow this to be one of the last times they talked to each other. She couldn’t let him go like this.
“I’m going to drag Feiyu back here,” Daiyu said instead, “and then you both are going to explain to me exactly what’s going on. And then you’ll have to stop this nonsense about dying because I’m not going to watch you die here.”
Muyang didn’t open his eyes again. Either he was ignoring her or he had passed out. It only steeled her resolve more and she batted away the remaining tears clinging to her lashes.
She gave him a moment to say something—to even tell her that there was no reason for her to do that—but he didn’t.
“Just you wait,” she said with finality.
Spinning on her heels, she marched out of the room. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to fall apart at the seams, or if she wanted to get into a fight with someone to release all the pent-up tension inside her that had accumulated during this whole conversation.
When the door slid closed behind her, she turned to the rest of the Peccata and Bohai in the room. They all watched her with hopeful eyes. Did they think she was enough to save Muyang?
Daiyu blew out air, straightening her stiff shoulders. “Why is he talking like he’s going to die very soon? Do any of you know anything about what’s going on? And why can’t we send in another mage to help?”
“We’ve tried,” Bohai explained, glancing at the others in the room. “But the mages have agreed that something is wrong with his soul and that … he’s dying.”
“Is it magic related?”
“We think so.”
“And Feiyu isn’t willing to help?”
“Not that we know of. He’s disappeared.”
Daiyu chewed on her lower lip and paced the room, choosing to steer clear from the Peccata members who were sitting close by the fireplace—she couldn’t remember their names, but it was the young raven-haired man with blue eyes and the bubbly female with the dimpled smile. Minos? Thera? She didn’t even remember or care in that moment.
“What do we even know about Feiyu? And why is he so closely tied with His Majesty?” she asked out loud, turning to the other members. They all seemed to be on friendly terms with the high mage—at least that was the impression she had gotten from Nikator and Vita. But why the mysteries? Why was Feiyu the only one who could help?
“We … don’t really know much about him,” Nikator said slowly, fidgeting with the leather hilt of his dagger—it was a nervous trait of his that Daiyu had picked up on. “He showed up a few weeks after His Majesty took the throne. He’s always worn a mask, so I have no idea what he looks like underneath it. But His Majesty trusts him and we all sort of followed suit.”
“But who is he?” she pressed.
“I don’t know,” Vita said, shifting from her position on the couch.
“So no one really knows anything about him?” Daiyu asked.
Silence fell over the group.
There were so many things that didn’t make sense—like who Feiyu was, how and why he was able to turn into a dragon, the MuRong royal tattoo on his arm, Muyang’s supposed curse and the reason his soul was dying—but it was becoming increasingly clear that she needed to find the high mage and force him to explain himself.
She didn’t know Feiyu very well either, she realized. Sure, he had somehow become her friend and sure, they had spent a good amount of time together in the palace, but she didn’t know his past. She didn’t know his real name. And she didn’t know what he desired, what his goals were—anything, really.
“I’ll … I’ll be right back,” Daiyu finally said, heading toward the door.
Atreus rose from his seat. “Where are you going?”
“To find Feiyu.”
“Let me help?—”
“No, I have a feeling he won’t cooperate if anyone else comes along.” It was a gut feeling of hers. Something that had no teeth and likely was wrong, but she didn’t want to risk it. The impression she had gotten from Feiyu was that he seemed to treat the Peccata like children, and she wasn’t sure if he was willing to open up if they were present. At least … at least that’s what she suspected.
“Stay here and protect His Majesty,” she said instead. “There might be more rebel forces lingering around in the palace, waiting to strike. Now is the most important time for us to stay vigilant.”
They all nodded, and even Bohai was staring at her strangely.
Finally, he too bobbed his head.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he murmured.
It didn’t even click to her the title he had used. It was only when she left the bedchambers and headed down the hallway, her head held high and her resolve steeling itself with every step, that she realized she was either one step closer to becoming a proper empress, or another step closer to becoming a widow.