Chapter 40
Daiyu had a vague idea where Feiyu was located. He had given her the hint when he had whisked her away to the mountains on the last day of the festival, but her biggest problem, other than figuring out how not to break her neck while riding a horse, was finding his exact location. Because as it was, the mountains were, unsurprisingly, extremely vast.
She must have been clopping through every trail she could, listening to the sound of creek water or streams and crickets and birds—and whatever other magical sounds Feiyu had mentioned he enjoyed—when she finally dismounted her horse and began her trek on foot. It was possible, she guessed, that he was somewhere where the horse didn’t want to go.
Through her jaunt, her mind traveled to everything that had conspired the past few days. Muyang choosing Yanlin, Feiyu’s strange goodbye, Muyang’s parting words about destroying the empire if he continued his reign, and his love toward Daiyu. The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. Why did Feiyu wear a mask at all times? Why was Muyang’s soul dying? What did Feiyu have to do with it? Did Feiyu do this to Muyang?
All she knew with clarity was that she had to save the man she loved. She wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing while Muyang’s soul slowly withered away. There were so many memories they needed to create. So many things they needed to discuss. So many … firsts they needed to do.
“Feiyu!” she shouted with labored breaths, glancing right and left. She also wasn’t sure what Feiyu looked like right now—was he in a human form, dragon form, or some other form he could shapeshift into? Nonetheless, she stared through the trees and rocky bumps for anything amiss, for any animal that was acting strange or any boulder that looked like it didn’t belong. “Feiyu!”
Pushing aside a swaying branch in her way, Daiyu climbed the steep mountain path. Her thighs burned with exertion and her breath streamed out of her shallowly. Her ankles weren’t used to all this hiking and her the soles of her feet were aching with every sharp rock, twig, and thorn she inadvertently stepped on. Her dried-grass sandals were barely hanging on by the time the sun began to dip into the horizon, painting the trees and boulders and terrain in orange-pink hues.
“Fei—” Her foot caught on a gnarled tree root and she flew forward. Daiyu raised her elbows instinctively to break her fall, but her knees slammed onto a pile of tiny rocks and pebbles first and she skidded down the unpaved trail. She screamed—her hand and knees and elbows scraping along the rough, rocky terrain.
She kept tumbling, the twigs and bramble catching on her hair and ripping it out of its low bun. Her fall was finally broken when she crashed into a large boulder surrounded by thorny bushes.
For a few seconds, she just lay there, breathing hard and staring up at the saffron-and-peach-tinged skyline. Her eyes filled with frustrated tears and she shakily pulled herself into a sitting position. The skin along her arms and knees was raw and shredded, and her dirt-coated dress was ripped in some sections.
A sob tore from her throat and she covered her face with her trembling, dusty hands. It wasn’t until that moment, when she was twisted in thorny bushes and littered with dozens of cuts and bruises that the reality of the situation really hit her.
Her husband was dying.
Her friend had turned into a dragon and disappeared.
And she was no closer to finding him and saving Muyang than she was a few hours ago.
She had been so na?ve to think she could easily find Feiyu just because he had shown her this place before and because he had always been accessible to her before—all she had to do was call his name in the palace and he would show up. She had taken that for granted: being able to see him whenever she wanted to.
And now, when she needed him the most, she had no clue where to even begin.
Daiyu picked at the spiky, knotted bushes stabbing her at every corner and did her best to untangle herself from it. Tears blurred her vision and she choked back her sobs. Muyang was dying. He was dying and there was a good chance there was nothing she could do about it. Here she was, stuck in the mountains, battered red and blue, instead of being with her bedridden husband.
Maybe she should have left this task for one of the Peccata. Maybe Atreus, or Nikator, or that young demon with red eyes. Maybe she should have waited by Muyang’s side while everyone else worked to find Feiyu.
Releasing a wobbly breath, Daiyu continued up the path she had just slid down from. Her breaths came in shaky half-sobs, and the evening wind blew against her damp cheeks. It would have been easier to run back to the palace and tell everyone she had failed in finding Feiyu—nobody would have faulted her—but she kept pushing herself.
One leg in front of the other. One foot, then the other, then the other.
Her lungs were on fire. Her face grew numb with cold. Her feet throbbed painfully. But she kept pushing herself forward.
One breath, one staggered step at a time.
It didn’t matter that she was a farm girl. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t a noble. It didn’t matter that she would likely never truly fit into Muyang’s court. If there was one thing she was certain about, it was that she wasn’t going to give up on Muyang or Feiyu. And she didn’t need to be someone important to be Muyang’s wife, or Feiyu’s friend, or someone who climbed this cursed mountain to find her dragon-turned friend.
Daiyu kept walking, even when the sun sank down the horizon, even when she couldn’t see in front of her. She brushed her hands along the rocks, the boulders, the trees, and whatever she came across. It wasn’t until she reached one of the flatter, higher levels of the mountainside that she halted to a stop. The wind tousled her unkept hair and she could taste the electrifying, heavy magic in the air.
She turned toward it and hurried her steps, her eyes adjusting to the dark blobs and shapes in the night. She kept climbing higher, and higher, and higher up the trail. Finally, when the magic was the strongest, and she could practically breathe in the fogginess of it, she came to a halt.
Curled up in a ball, a giant, moon-drenched dragon lay on the ground, his eyes closed and his heavy head resting on his arms. His scales shimmered silver in the light and her breath caught at the sight of them—at how beautiful he was, at how his wings seemed to reflect the moon.
“Feiyu!” Daiyu nearly tripped and stumbled toward him, her eyes misting with tears once again. There was no mistaking it. This was Feiyu, the dragon she had seen on the last day of the festival. She stopped a few feet away from him. “Feiyu!”
Slowly, he opened his black eyes and they landed on her instantly.
“Feiyu.” Her hands trembled and she sank to the ground, more tears streaming down her face. “It’s you, isn’t it? Please, I need …”
The words were stuck in her throat. She was always running over to him whenever she needed help. Whenever there was something she needed.
“Muyang needs you,” she whispered, searching his dragon face. He had to understand her. He had to listen. He had to explain himself.
His eyes closed once more.
“Feiyu? Feiyu!” Daiyu clambered to her sore, achy feet and hesitantly touched his face. His scales were smooth like marble and cold to the touch. “Please, wake up. I need to talk to you.”
His eyes opened again and this time, she flinched back at the darkness she found in his gaze. He stared at her unblinkingly and then opened his mouth. His voice rumbled out of him unfamiliarly. “I am tired, Daiyu. Leave me to my fate here.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Her hands shook and she rubbed them against the back of her thighs. She didn’t even know where to begin. What to start talking about. Not when there was so much she didn’t understand. “Feiyu, what’s happening? Why did you say goodbye to me like you did? Why … are you a dragon?”
“Daiyu, I am tired,” he repeated. “Go home. Live your life somewhere far, far away from here and the capital.”
Something snapped within her at hearing those words—words that echoed hauntingly similar to Muyang’s. “Why is everyone so hell-bent on sending me away?” She bunched her fists together just as a gust of wind howled above her head as if agreeing with her. “I came here to find you, Feiyu. I know what I’m doing. I didn’t stumble here by accident. I need your help—I … I know it sounds bad because I always seem to need your help, but it’s not for me. Muyang needs you. He’s—” Her voice thickened. “He’s dying.”
If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. His eyes fluttered shut.
“Feiyu? Did you hear me?” She touched his head and tried to shake him, but he was too heavy, too grand. “Feiyu, Muyang is dying.”
“I know.”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “Aren’t you going to do something?”
“No.”
“Why?” Anger surged through her. “Aren’t you loyal to him?”
“Muyang is a curse upon these lands,” he said. “It’s better for him to die. It’s better for you and for this empire. Embrace it and run far away from here, for his enemies will look for you to parade around as a trophy. A relic of his abominable reign.”
She couldn’t believe his words, nor the way he delivered them so nonchalantly.
“Why are you saying that?” A steel edge entered her tone. “Muyang isn’t a curse. You’re supposed to help him. You’re his high mage and he’s your emperor. Commander Yao told me that his soul is dying and it’s magic related; he said you could help! You’re the only one I can turn to right now.”
Another strong gale raged against them. This time chillier than before. It made her teeth rattle and her body ache.
“Feiyu, please.” She inhaled sharply and continued quickly, “I’ll do anything you want, but please, please save Muyang. I need him alive. You don’t seem to understand the severity of the situation. He is dying, Feiyu. If you don’t do something to help his soul, he will die. And I can’t allow that to happen. No matter what, I won’t let my husband die.” Her throat closed up and she choked out, “I won’t let the man I love die in front of me, so please, I’m begging you, please save Muyang. I’ll do whatever you want. If you want to bind me into some sort of contract, I’ll do it. Just … just save him.”
Feiyu watched her with midnight eyes that seemed to blend into the night itself. “Four years ago, he made his decision to take the throne and curse himself. He knew this day would come eventually. Leave him to his fate, Daiyu.”
“I can’t and I won’t!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the mountains. She breathed out deeply and her hair whipped around violently in tune with the winds. “Feiyu, what is going on? Why are you allowing Muyang to suffer like this? What do you have over him? And what do you have against him?”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
“Why? Why is Muyang’s soul dying?”
“He chose this.”
“But why?”
He said nothing and her fury swelled once more, fueled by her inability to do anything. She clenched and unclenched her fists. She hated that she didn’t know what was happening and she hated that both Feiyu and Muyang were keeping her in the dark.
“Feiyu! Look, you’re a high mage. You know a lot when it comes to magic. If you’re not willing to help Muyang yourself, then fine. But please, can you at least tell me what I can do to save him? I absolutely can’t let him die. I won’t … I just won’t.” She blinked away the burning of her eyes. “Feiyu, please!”
“Daiyu, you know nothing about Muyang.” He stared at her levelly, his head not rising from his resting position. “You know nothing about what makes him cursed. Why he should have never ruled and why he’s currently suffering the consequences of his actions. You should hate him. You should rejoice now that you’ll be free from him. You shouldn’t be here, begging at my feet for me to save the very man who doomed you to live in the palace when you only wished to rescue your sister.”
“I love him,” she said quietly, her voice coming out strong despite the turmoil in her chest. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“You ran away from him mere days ago.”
“I … I see things differently now.” She lowered her head, hating the tremor in her words and the weakness she was baring to him. “I don’t want to run away anymore. I want to stand in the palace and face Muyang head-on. I made a mistake by running the first time. I want to stay and fight. I want to?—”
“Who’s to say he won’t make another error and cast you aside? Will you run then too?”
“No—”
“What if he abandons you for another?”
“He won’t do that.”
“How can you be so sure? You know nothing about Muyang.”
“I know enough to know that he wouldn’t knowingly hurt me. He wouldn’t put me in that position—not again.” Her voice faltered, but she remembered the confidence with which Muyang had spoken to her. How he had promised that he wouldn’t hurt her. That he was so very sorry for breaking her heart. “And … And if he does, I’ll face him. I’ll tackle that problem when—if—it arises. But I have a feeling that it won’t happen because Muyang loves me.”
“You’re making assumptions about a man whose reputation is far worse than you can ever imagine.”
She raised her chin. “I know who he is. I knew who Muyang was when I agreed to marry him.”
Usurper. Murderer. Wicked.
He was Drakkon Muyang.
Feared across the lands for his vast power.
She didn’t know everything there was to know about him, but that was why he needed to survive—so they could get to know one another more. So they could fall deeper and harder in love. So that they could live their lives together.
Feiyu watched her unblinkingly. The stars seemed to glimmer brighter, his scales appearing more silver as he lifted his head toward her. His breath streamed out of his mouth in white puffs. “Very well, Yin Daiyu. You seem to have put your bets on this man whom you know nothing about. I will put my bets on you, then. I can save Muyang, but I’ll only do it for a price.”
Her hopes rose and her breath cinched in her chest. “Yes, yes, yes. What’s your price? Tell me and I’ll be able to pay it?—”
“My name.”
She hesitated, unsure if she had heard right. But when he made no move to repeat himself, she murmured, “Your … name?”
“Yes. That is my price.” His gaze pierced her—dragonoid and dark. “Tell me my true name, and I will save your husband.”
“But …” Her mouth dried up. She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know anything about him. He must have been a MuRong, since he had the royal tattoo on his arm, but there had been dozens of MuRongs over the past decades. How was she going to guess which member of the previous royal family he was? She didn’t even know all the princes’ names.
“You have to give me a hint, or, or something. I can’t guess your name without knowing anything?—”
“I will share my memories with you, and by the end of it, you will tell me my name.” He leaned closer to her, air steaming from his nostrils and warming her face. She instinctively touched the side of his jaw, her fingers gliding over the smooth scales. “If you’re unable to tell me my name, I will kill your husband myself.”
She opened her mouth to say something—to tell him that he was being cruel—but her vision shifted right before she could. Suddenly, she wasn’t in the mountains anymore. She was elsewhere. Daiyu blinked, her mouth dropping open at the bustling, familiar hallway.
She was in the royal palace.