Empire’s Curse (Drakkon #1)

Chapter 42

She opened her mouth and clamped it shut. Was she supposed to guess based on those snippets of memories? He had lived a terrible, terrible life—she could see that. But it wasn’t enough for her to know who he was. She didn’t know the names of Emperor Yan’s siblings. She didn’t know anything other than that Feiyu was an abused prince.

She cursed herself for not knowing the names of the royal family and she partly wished she could rush back to the palace and ask Prince Yat-sen or the princesses the names of all their uncles. But she didn’t have that kind of time and she doubted Feiyu would allow that—after all, this was a test, wasn’t it?

“Let me … think,” Daiyu said after a moment, choosing to sit on a smooth, unfaceted rock. She drummed her fingers over her thighs to keep them busy. She should have been more shocked at the fact that it was morning—and that she had spent the whole night flicking through Feiyu’s memories—but the adrenaline rushing through her veins and the pressure of answering correctly kept her from thinking too much about the morning. Or the magic. Or the fact that Muyang was likely in critical condition at this point. Or that everyone must have been worried about where she had been all night.

Daiyu tried clearing her thoughts of everything except what Feiyu had shown her. What did she know about Feiyu before these memories?

He wore a mask to protect his identity—apparently, because he didn’t want anyone to know who he was, which now made sense. He was the high mage of the royal palace and worked closely with Muyang. He used a fake name to hide his identity even more. He had a few scars she had spotted through the eye slits of his mask and when he had lifted his mask to eat. And … that was about it.

What did she know about Feiyu after seeing his memories?

He was severely abused by his brother Yan. He was the child of the emperor and a maidservant. He watched his mother brutally be tortured and executed. He had ingested the blood of a dragon and somehow survived.

She tried wrapping her mind around more. There must have been a reason Feiyu had shown her these memories, but how did they tie in with his identity? How was she supposed to figure out who he was with these glimpses of his life?

She was missing something, she was sure.

Did Muyang know that Feiyu was a MuRong? She couldn’t see any reason why he would keep Feiyu around if he knew the truth, so he must have not known. Feiyu must have worn a mask around at all times in order to hide his identity from Muyang. Because he likely knew that Muyang would lock him up similar to how Yat-sen and the princesses were locked up. Or maybe Muyang would execute Feiyu since he was much more of a threat than Yat-sen and the princesses.

Or maybe …

Daiyu kept going in circles. She tried wrapping her mind around Feiyu and Muyang and the rest of the royal family, but she couldn’t figure out what any of it meant.

Tears of frustration pricked the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away. She stared down at her hands. None of this was making any sense to her. She didn’t know how any of this tied together.

Why was Muyang’s soul dying? Why was he a curse to this empire? What did this mean for Feiyu? How were they tied together?

“Take as long as you need,” Feiyu rumbled, his black eyes boring into her like he knew she wouldn’t be able to answer correctly. “But Muyang will die in a matter of hours, and then his cursed reign will finally be over.”

“N-No! He can’t—” Her lower lip wobbled and her throat closed up as the realization hit her. Muyang was going to die. He was going to die in a few hours. She didn’t have time to waste here, thinking and thinking and unable to come up with an answer. She needed to figure this out, she needed to find Feiyu’s real name, and she needed to do it quickly.

All the pressure seemed to land on her shoulders, making her tremble and fold in within herself. She curled over her knees and rested her head on her lap.

Think. She needed to think.

Muyang took the throne four years ago. During that time, was Feiyu locked away in the dungeons somewhere, or had he escaped at some point? Muyang had killed Emperor Yan in order to take the throne, so did that make Feiyu indebted to Muyang? Was that why he stuck around in the palace and worked under Muyang? Or did Muyang free him from Yan once he took over?

But then, why was Feiyu saying that Muyang’s reign was cursed? Shouldn’t he be happy that Muyang took over, since that meant Yan was killed and his family was mostly wiped out? Or … did Feiyu want to take the throne? Was that why he thought Muyang’s rule was cursed?

She was becoming more confused as the minutes ticked by. How was she going to figure this out? The more she thought about it, the more tangled everything became. The more she couldn’t make sense of what was up and what was down.

“Feiyu … after your brother forced you to take dragon’s blood, what did you do?” Daiyu lifted her head to pin him with a stare.

He didn’t move, only continued to stare at her. “I was in excruciating pain for days. Like my brother had mentioned, my blood felt like it was boiling within myself, my organs felt like they were melting, and my flesh was on fire for days. During this time, I must have lost consciousness at some point and Yan assumed I was dead, so he tossed me aside somewhere. I woke up in a shallow dug grave not far from here.” His gaze flicked over at the mountains in the distance, their spikes prodding up to the clouded skies. “Once I realized I was free, I left the capital and didn’t return for many years.”

She chewed on that for a few minutes, trying to make sense of it all. But when she looked over at him to ask more questions, to prod more into his past, a sudden shame took over. His eyes were so black, so unfeeling, and yet there was something terribly sad within them. Here she was, trying to strip down his memories to figure out his name, and she hadn’t had the decency to even think about things from his perspective. How terrible must it have been to live in the royal palace? To go through so much abuse and torture?

She was a terrible friend for glossing it over for her own selfish purposes. Of course she wanted to save Muyang, but she hadn’t had the decency to even think about how Feiyu felt during this. How traumatic it must have been for him.

“I’m so sorry, Feiyu,” she finally said, unable to look at him as guilt and shame bloomed in her chest. “You’ve lived such a hard life. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.”

“It was a long time ago,” he murmured, closing those midnight-like eyes.

“Did you realize immediately that you could turn into a dragon? Is that normal after ingesting dragon blood?”

“I don’t know about normal, but I knew I was different than before when I awoke. My blood changed—it became magicked.”

“That’s …” Fascinating. But she couldn’t say that. It would be insensitive and inappropriate, especially since it wasn’t his choice to go through that kind of torture and to be forever changed. “Muyang also told me his blood is magicked?—”

Everything came to a pause as she uttered those words and something clicked in her mind.

Wait, wait, wait.

“Muyang told me …” Daiyu’s eyebrows came together and she looked over at Feiyu with renewed interest. With different eyes.

There was no way.

“Feiyu …” She curled her hands over her knees. He didn’t change in the slightest and she couldn’t read his emotions at all. “In the library, I spoke to Muyang about curses and he told me that curses can … can split your soul and corrupt them. Is Muyang … Did Muyang curse himself?”

Feiyu didn’t say anything, only continued to stare at her.

“Oh my—” Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him. All the pieces began aligning together. Everything was becoming clearer. “I … I know your name.”

Four years ago, Muyang took the throne. Four years ago, his magic changed and he couldn’t use it much anymore. Four years ago, his personality changed—he became darker.

And it made so much sense. So much sense that it was crazy. Convoluted, even.

“You’re … You’re MuRong Muyang,” she whispered, gasping once the words were out. It didn’t sound real. It couldn’t be real, but it was the only conclusion she came to. “Muyang … corrupted his soul by splitting it in half. You’re the other half.”

All at once, Feiyu’s eyes widened and something sparked within them. A light shone from his body and he morphed, the shimmering scales appearing brighter as his body uncoiled itself from its sleeping position. The long limbs and dragon wings disappeared, replaced by flesh and blood. The scales sank into his scarred skin, disappearing in a split second as clothes magically appeared over his body. In seconds, he was back in his human form, dressed in his usual silver and green mage robes.

The only difference was that he wore no mask. Muyang’s face stared back at her. Wickedly beautiful, with his usual dark eyes, and his soft mouth, he was … her Muyang. But at the same time, he wasn’t.

A faint scar ran down his eyebrow to his eyelid and under the eye. He had another set of three scars running vertically on his jaw. And there was something in his gaze that appeared so much sadder than her Muyang.

Her knees weakened and if she weren’t already sitting, she would have fallen to the ground in disbelief. He was Muyang, and it made sense, but it didn’t at the same time.

“How … and why would you do this to yourself?” she found herself asking. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest, the blood rushing to her ears. Why would Muyang split his soul in half?

Feiyu smiled, ever so gently. “When I took the throne four years ago, I thought I would lose my mind. I had discarded my MuRong blood for so long, but I needed to kill my brother and get my revenge. But once I did, and I took his throne, I couldn’t bear to be in the palace anymore. I couldn’t bear to be in the same halls my mother and I had lived. I couldn’t bear the sight of the throne room, where so much of my own torture had taken place.”

“So you … split your soul?”

“Yes.” His voice softened, but there was a spark of anger in his eyes that made her want to cringe back. “I split my soul and sealed my memories within this body.” He tapped himself on the chest. “The other Muyang lost many of his childhood memories, many of the darkest moments of our life that made it unbearable to stay in the palace. Instead, I bore them. I also took most of the magic, though that was mostly by accident. We had planned on making our magic equal. I also took most of the scars.” He touched his scarred eyelid. “These scars tell stories of torture my brother inflicted, and the other half wouldn’t have known where they came from. So it only made sense …”

Daiyu’s head began to spin. “But you knew it would corrupt your soul to split it in half?—”

“Yes. We both realized it would mean we would die in a few short years.” He looked down at the ground. “The people around us realized Muyang had changed, but they didn’t know why. The Peccata … the children I raised, were confused when Muyang didn’t know them like he used to, since I took some of those memories. And the others within Muyang’s council, some of whom he knew before taking the throne, were also confused about why he acted differently. More unhinged, as is the case when one becomes incomplete. It was an unfortunate side effect, watching the people I care for be confused and hurt when Muyang treated them differently since he didn’t remember them like I did.”

Daiyu remembered back in the carriage with Nikator when he had sadly explained to her that things had changed once Muyang took the throne. This was what he had meant, but he couldn’t have known that this was the reason why.

“I should have never taken the throne. I didn’t have good intentions anyway. I only wanted revenge, but once I had my brother’s throne, I couldn’t leave it to just anyone. I had to rule.” His long, inky hair whipped around himself with the wind. “I had to spite all the people who had made my life hell in the palace. I had to kill them all and get my revenge, and I could only do that as the emperor. But I knew it would be short-lived … this rule of mine. I didn’t want anyone to find out who I truly was. That I belonged on the throne. That I was—am—a MuRong.”

“So you took on a new name.”

“Drakkon.” Feiyu nodded. “A moniker I received during my time in Sanguis.”

Daiyu could only stare at him. She didn’t know what to think of any of this, but she knew with certainty that Muyang was a tortured soul who had done what he had to in order to satiate his revenge. But now that he had it, he must have felt so … empty? Angry? Confused?

As if reading her mind, he continued, “Muyang might not have remembered all the people who have wronged him, us, but that’s why I stayed in the palace. To make sure that we got our revenge properly. But we never planned on staying on the throne for long. Eventually, our souls would die. And now … that time is near.”

“Feiyu—” She stopped herself, unsure if she could even call him that. “You can’t … you can’t just?—”

“When Muyang took you as a bride, it angered me.” Something dark broiled in his black eyes, so scorching that Daiyu inched away from him. His scarred, calloused hands curled together and he clenched his jaw tightly. “He committed the same crime our father had done to our mother. He forced you to … to be his, when he had no business doing such a thing. Daiyu, you must know that if we were in our right state of mind, we would have never forced you to become ours. We wouldn’t have …” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I never wanted to become the same monster my father was.”

“You’re not a monster,” Daiyu said, rushing over to him. She took his face in her hands; it felt so natural to touch him like this, to stare into those eyes, like she had done hundreds of times before. “Even the other half of you … he never forced himself upon me. You have to understand that the relationship between your father and mother is completely different than what I have with Muyang. He would never hurt me like your father hurt your mother, and he would never keep me around if he knew it would hurt me. You would never hurt me. You aren’t a monster, Muyang. Not this version of you, and not the other.”

He searched her face as if not believing her. “After knowing all of this, you still want to save him? To save me?”

“Yes. A million times yes.”

“He’s a cruel monster, and I am no better.”

“You aren’t a monster.”

“I am. I should have never taken the throne. I should have never involved you in our mess?—”

“Muyang.” She held his face tighter, wishing he could see what she saw—a sad soul who couldn’t find peace, who wanted to find it, and whose other half had searched for it. “I love you, all of you. What happened to you was truly terrible and you did what you could to cope with yourself, even if it meant mutilating your own soul. You were in so much pain. You only did what you could think of to help yourself. I can’t fault you for doing that.”

Behind all that rage, grief and pain shone on his face. He had likely never properly grieved over his mother, or the torture he endured, or everything he had lost whilst being in the royal palace. It must have been so painful, so traumatic, to walk through the same halls that he had been tortured in. To stare at the same walls that had housed his abuse. And to pretend like it didn’t bother him at all.

“Muyang, what happens now?” Daiyu asked quietly.

He stood very still, the leaves rustling behind him and the grass swaying against his shins. “Now … we go to the palace and reunite with the other half of my soul. But, Daiyu, are you sure you want to do this? We won’t be the same.”

“I want you alive, Muyang. I don’t care if?—”

“You didn’t fall in love with the Muyang I was four years ago.” The look in his eyes hardened, like he was expecting her to run. “I am much more of a monster when I have all of my memories.”

“You aren’t a monster.”

“I have so much more anger toward the world.”

“Then how are you standing here in front of me without lashing out at me?” she questioned. “Your part of the soul was burdened with the heaviest of your trauma and you can still find ways to smile and laugh and joke with me. You’re still able to find kindness in your heart. The other half of you—whom I love very much—doesn’t have that. He’s much more …” She struggled to find the words.

“Uncaring?” He smiled softly. “He doesn’t remember all the memories of our mother and the lessons she instilled in us. He’s much more confused than me.”

“He cares … but it’s not the same.” She loved Muyang, she really did, but he and Feiyu seemed to be two completely different people. The Muyang she knew was cruel, indifferent, and cold. Feiyu, on the other hand, was playful and kind. She couldn’t imagine the two of them being the same person. But she loved Muyang, and she cared for Feiyu as a friend.

“Once we reunite, all of our memories will join together.”

“You both are still the same person. Just … different.”

“And what if you don’t like the difference?”

The corner of Daiyu’s mouth twitched into a grin. “You think I would abandon you just because you’re different? It’s like you said earlier. I don’t know much about Muyang—about you. We have our whole lives in front of us to fall deeper in love and get to know each other.”

Once the words were out, she suddenly felt embarrassed to be standing in front of him as she was—unkempt hair, bruised and scraped knees, and covered in sweat and grime. He was her husband, but at the same time, he wasn’t. He didn’t have memories of their intimacy, of their love, of their stolen kisses. What if this version of Muyang didn’t love her? Would that affect the other half?

He tilted his head to the side. “You … think that I won’t love you?”

“E-excuse me?” Could he read her mind?

“Daiyu, I’m—” A flash of pain crossed his face and he clutched the front of his chest, falling down to one knee in one swell movement. He gasped sharply.

Daiyu dropped down in front of him, her hands flying to his shoulders to help him from keeling over. “What’s wrong?”

“My body—” He coughed, and blood splattered over her shoulder. His dark eyes flicked over to hers, wide and panicked and pained, but the emotions shuttered in a split second—like he didn’t want her to see any of it. “I’m dying, Daiyu. We won’t make it on time?—”

All the blood drained from her face and she tightened her hold on his shoulders. “No. I’m not losing you.”

“I don’t have much?—”

“Let’s rush to the palace, then!” She tried hauling him up to his feet, but he was too weakened, too fatigued to even stand. She hadn’t noticed earlier, since she was preoccupied with everything else, but he was pale—too pale. “Come on, Muyang! Pull yourself together!”

“I can’t.” He wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m able to hold myself up only because I have more magic, but the other part of my soul is too weak.” His head lolled forward, falling over her shoulder. “We will both die soon?—”

“Is there anything I can do?” She took his face in her hands and tried to make him stare at her, but his eyes were already rolling behind his head. “Muyang!”

“There’s … nothing?—”

“There has to be something! You’re a high mage! Take my magic, take my energy, take something—everything! Just don’t die!” Tears misted over her eyes, blurring her vision. She quickly blinked them away. She couldn’t lose him, not when she was so close to saving him. “Muyang, please. You have to hang in there.”

“Daiyu …” He exhaled, blinking up at her. “You’re too sweet for me. I could never burden you more than I already have.”

“Muyang!” She slipped her hand into his and nearly crushed it. “Please, take my magic. Take what you need. Please.”

“Daiyu—”

“Do it, now.” Her voice hardened with panic, with the thought of losing him forever. She didn’t want to go back and forth and argue with him about what he needed to do in order to save his life. Yat-sen had told her that everyone had magic within themselves, so it only made sense that she did too. Magic was essentially energy, wasn’t it? So maybe he could take what he needed and buy them some time?

Something in her expression probably told him she wasn’t playing any games with his life because he nodded slowly and hesitantly tightened their hands together. “Just … a little.”

Almost immediately, she could feel her energy drain. She gasped, the pulling sensation feeling as though someone was leeching her blood from her body. All at once, a deep fatigue rattled her bones and chilled her flesh. She gritted her teeth together to keep them from chattering.

“Muyang, we need to make it back to the palace,” she said, her words slurring together. “You need to save yourself. Let’s teleport?—”

“Can’t. It requires too much energy—too much magic.”

“Then—

“Hold on to me.”

Before she could ask what he meant, his body began to shift. She barely suppressed a yelp of surprise when scales formed over his skin and his body lurched forward, transforming in mere seconds into a large, serpentine body. She held on to his neck tightly, watching with awe as his dragon body grew into its impressive size and height. His wings flared out behind him, the scales glimmering silvery white in the sunlight.

In seconds, he launched up into the air. This time, Daiyu screamed, hugging his neck tightly and pressing her thighs against the sides of his body. She dug her heels as hard as she could, but his scales were so hard and smooth that she could barely get a good grip on him. She couldn’t even wrap her arms completely around him, and the spikes along his back and neck made it even harder to hold on without hurting herself.

“Muyang—” she shouted, but the wind rushed over her face, ripping through her hair and clothes and face with such speed that her words could barely keep up.

They zoomed through the sky and Daiyu’s stomach plummeted at the sights below her—at the mountains that shrank, at the swells of the forest that seemed so tiny up here, and at the vastness of the empire along the horizon. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and yet the grand height terrified her. If she fell?—

She shuddered, hugging the dragon tighter.

Feiyu—Muyang—would never allow that to happen.

They flew faster and higher, Muyang’s powerful wings slicing the air. Daiyu held on, her mouth nearly dropping open as she looked down. They were passing over the capital now, on the outskirts. People on their farms and their open lands stared up at them in awe, pointing at the magnificent sight. Then they began to pass over the rest of the capital, the city just barely waking up. She could hear the screams of surprise even beyond the barrier of blustering winds. She watched as people poked their heads out from windows and looked up.

Muyang roared, loud and piercing as if to announce his arrival. A grin stretched up Daiyu’s lips despite the direness of the situation. It was exhilarating being so high up, soaring up and up and watching the people down below. Watching the world wake up.

In mere minutes, the royal palace came into view. The sun gleamed against the polished, emerald-glazed roof tiles, the vermillion-lacquered balustrades, the raised pavilions, and the sprawling walled compound; the palace was even grander from above, appearing like a giant, beautified fortress.

They grew closer to it, but Feiyu didn’t slow down. Closer, and closer, and closer.

“M-Muyang!” Daiyu held on tighter.

They were going to crash?—

Right when she thought they would dive through one of the walls, he bucked his powerful wings and slid across the shingled roof. She screamed, holding on with all her might. Feiyu flapped his wings, threw his head back, and roared even louder. The whole world seemed to be watching them right now.

She could see the courtyard, the gardens, the city square—all of it full of people staring up at them with gaping, slack jaws. Daiyu’s legs quivered, her gaze flicking from the royal palace to the rest of the capital.

He roared again, louder this time. Enough to shake the walls and the city. It took her a second to realize where they were—the rooftop where the lantern lighting ceremony had taken place. It was like he wanted the whole capital to view them.

“W-What are you doing?” she shouted at him.

Seconds ticked by and palace guards swarmed the rooftop venue. They trembled whilst holding their spears, like they weren’t sure what to do. There was no way they could beat Feiyu, they seemed to realize that immediately.

“Don’t attack!” Daiyu yelled.

“Y-your Majesty?” one of the guards said, bewildered. “G-Get down from there!”

“He won’t attack you!” She scanned the crowds of soldiers for a familiar face, but she couldn’t see anything beyond the gleaming steel helmets and spears. “Bring His Majesty here, now!”

Nobody moved. They just stared at Feiyu with bug eyes.

“Bring—” Her words cut off when she spotted Commander Yao Bohai pushing through the sea of soldiers, his face colored in surprise. Behind him, she spotted Muyang. Even from here, she could see that he was on death’s doors. He could barely stand, his skin pallid and ghostly, and his cheeks gaunt. Her heart sank. It had only been a day and yet he had deteriorated so much.

“What are you doing?” Muyang stopped a dozen feet away from Feiyu, his shadowed, dark-circled eyes narrowing at the sight. The guards parted for him and even though he was so sickly, even though he probably wanted to keel over and pass out, he stood tall and proud and so like the man she had fallen in love with. He appeared fearless, even at the sight of the dragon.

“Muyang—” Daiyu’s eyes filled with unshed tears. He was still alive, at least.

“Daiyu, get away from him.” Muyang stared at Feiyu with such a look of disdain that she flinched back. His words whipped out of him like angry torrents. “Feiyu, what are you doing here? I thought you would never come back?—”

“Neither of you is dying today.” She wiped her eyes and steeled her resolve. She peered down at him, watching the surprise on his face. “I told you I’d be back with Feiyu.”

“Daiyu—” he began.

She could tell that he didn’t want her there. That he would rather be in bed, dying alone. That he wished she had gone somewhere far away and lived a life without him. Well, she wasn’t going to let him have that peace. He was stuck with her now, she thought with a faint grin.

“If you thought you could die peacefully, away from all your troubles, then you’re wrong. You’re going to have to continue being the emperor, Muyang. You shouldn’t have chosen me as your bride if you thought I wouldn’t try to save you.”

He blinked over at her. “What are you saying?”

“You don’t remember who you are, do you? Your real name?”

“Daiyu.” There was a warning in his tone that told her she was crossing into boundaries she had no business being in, but behind that veil of anger was terror. He didn’t want to know who Feiyu truly was—what kind of past they both shared.

“Your real name isn’t Drakkon Muyang,” she said, her voice growing louder. “But you knew that, didn’t you? You knew you discarded a part of your soul so that you could keep your sanity. You never wanted to find out what really happened to you?—”

“Daiyu!” His eyes were wide now, so black and void-like. “I can’t find out?—”

“I’m not losing you! Not to yourself.” She pleaded with him with her gaze alone, wishing he could just accept who he was. But she didn’t want to tell him right away, she didn’t want to force it onto him. “You have to save yourself, Muyang. Please!”

Feiyu shifted on his feet, lowering his head to better stare at Muyang. As if that was enough to make him realize who he was.

“What have you done?” Muyang whispered, backing away. “You convinced him to come back?”

“I can’t let you kill yourself like this.” She breathed out deeply. “You’ll have to continue your reign. I know you’re scared?—”

“I’m not scared,” he snarled, even though he couldn’t rip his gaze away from Feiyu.

“You’re lost and scared and confused!” Daiyu exhaled. The other guards exchanged glances, all of them appearing baffled. Nobody spoke to the emperor this way. Not even a woman riding a fearsome dragon. She knew that, but she didn’t care what anyone thought at that moment. All she cared about was saving him. Saving the man she loved.

“Muyang, you have to accept this part of you,” she said, quieter this time. “Please. Let’s build a life together. Let’s be happy. Let’s have dozens of children. Let’s live—together. Please.”

He hesitated and she could see the emotions warring on his face. The desire to give in, but the stubbornness not to find out who he was. What his past was about. She could see the resignation on his face. The fear.

“I love you, Muyang.” The words came out before she could help herself. And it was so true, so true she wanted to shout it to the world. To let everyone know that she was deeply and madly in love with Drakkon Muyang.

His eyes widened.

She held her hand out to him. “Muyang, I want to be with you. Forever and ever, and I won’t let your stubborn pride hold you back. You can’t die here. Not when you have so much to do.”

He stared at her hand and then back at her face—searching, thinking.

He was so beautiful, with the early morning sun shining down on him. With the vulnerability across his face.

He stumbled forward, his hand stretching out to meet hers.

“I love you, MuRong Muyang,” she whispered just as their fingers touched.

A spark came to life and Muyang’s eyes grew even wider. All at once, light shone from Feiyu and darkness whirled around Muyang. Daiyu bit back a scream as she was thrown forward, off Feiyu’s back.

She crashed onto the floor, rolling as she went, the shock rattling her bones. Shadows and lights writhed from both Feiyu and Muyang, warping together like a storm. The sky cracked with magic and darkened in seconds, the air growing thicker and volatile. Daiyu scooted backward, the winds howling all around. The two bodies began to fuse together—one part dragon and the other part human.

“W-What’s happening?” Bohai shouted, coming to kneel beside her. He stared at the magic lashing out from Muyang.

“His souls are combining!” Daiyu said.

Understanding seemed to dawn on Bohai’s face.

In seconds, the blustering magic stopped altogether, but shadows continued to form around Muyang’s feet, swirling around him like banners of night. He slowly raised his head and turned to the crowd of terrified soldiers, his eyes appearing blacker than before. Finally, his gaze landed on Daiyu.

He didn’t look weak and sick anymore. In fact, he looked more powerful than ever. The shadows continued to whip at the ground, at the sky, and over his body protectively. She had never seen such a cold expression on his face. Such madness and anger and fury that played over his black, black eyes.

She clambered up to her feet shakily. Her vision tunneled so that everything else disappeared until it was just him and her. Her mouth tasted ashy and dry.

Their gazes locked on one another.

She held her breath.

Now that his fractured soul was together again, did that mean … he didn’t love her anymore? Did he hold resentment toward her for bringing him together? Would he hate her now?

He must have read her mind, he must have seen the fear on her face because his gaze softened, the shadows waning and a faint smile curling at the corner of his soft mouth. “Daiyu, I could never hate you.”

It was all she needed to run to him. She didn’t care about anything else anymore. She launched herself into his arms. He stumbled backward, embracing her even as she smacked his chest with her hand. Even as the tears rolled down her face and she hugged him tighter and tighter.

“Y-You!” she cried, burying her face in his chest. “You frightened me so bad! I thought I would lose you!”

“Forgive me,” he whispered, tucking his chin over her head.

“I thought you would die!” She wept against his chest, not caring that she likely appeared hideous—with her dusty and torn clothes, her windswept hair stuck with twigs and leaves, and grime and dirt clinging to her like a cloak. Even then, when she peeled back just enough to stare up at him, he was looking down at her like he had never seen someone so … beautiful.

He pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. “Did you realize that I loved you in both souls?”

She sniffled, blinking away the tears that adhered to her lashes. “You did?”

“Yes, though it shouldn’t come as a surprise. I will always love you, my dear, dear sweet fiend.” Muyang brushed his thumb over her eyes, swiping at the tears that rolled down her damp cheeks. “I would choose you again and again. Only if you’ll have me.”

She laughed. Now that the panic and fear of losing him were gone, she was incredibly exhausted. The rush of adrenaline was finally seeping away from her. But even amongst the sea of guards who were staring at them, she didn’t care one bit that she didn’t look like a proper empress.

“And I will always choose you, little dragon.”

A furrow formed between his brows and she chuckled, weaving her hand onto the back of his head. She rose up on her toes and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. Her eyes fluttered shut. He pulled her closer to his body, his hands warm against her cold flesh. She breathed in the familiar scent of jasmine and spices.

When she pulled back, her throat closed up and more tears blurred her vision. “Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again. Promise me you’ll always live your life, and you’ll never break your soul like that again. Promise me you’ll never leave me, Muyang.”

“I promise.” He cupped her cheek with his calloused hand. The scars on his face were a new addition, but he was just as beautiful as he was before. “It’s painful to remember everything. To know … everything.” Darkness washed over his face, and the shadows of his magic continued to writhe around them, growing stronger. “I have so much anger and hatred in my heart, and so much … rage. But”—he stared at her and something softened within him—“I will remain strong. For you.”

“Not just for me.” She placed a hand over his heart. “For yourself, Muyang. You must find peace. Whether I’m here or not, you will find peace.”

He stared at her again, and right when she thought he wouldn’t agree, he nodded.

Daiyu fell back in his arms and it was only then that she could finally breathe easy.