Chapter 30
The months passed by and the weather cooled. During that time, Daiyu wasn’t any closer to figuring out who was after her than she was on the first day. She did, however, meet Vita, whose stoniness was a stark contrast to Nikator’s cheerfulness. She was a beautiful young lady with bluntly cut hair down to her chin, sharp moon-like gray eyes, and a tall frame. She hardly talked, and Daiyu found herself blathering to her in a one-sided conversation most days.
In the middle of the night, with the crisp, autumn air filtering in through the ornamental, slated windows above her framed bed, the soft sound of cheering and revelry woke Daiyu from her slumber. She pushed herself into a sitting position, only to find Vita, who slept on the couch in her room, was awake as well.
“Do you hear that?” Daiyu whispered, pushing the silk covers off her body and swinging her legs around.
“I do.” Vita folded her blanket neatly and placed it beside the seat she had been lying on earlier that night. Rising to her feet, she moved toward the doorway connecting to the living chambers. “Would you like for me to find out what the commotion is?”
“Yes.” Daiyu was already combing her fingers through her hair and heading toward her dresser. By the time she had pulled on a random dress—a deep purple with sapphire waves along the skirts and cranes embroidered on the sleeves—Vita popped back into the bedroom chambers, a rare smile on her face.
“His Majesty has returned.”
A giddiness she hadn’t expected bubbled and frothed in the pit of her stomach, warming her chest. Daiyu hurriedly pulled her hair into a low bun and slotted gold hairpins into place. “Well then, we shouldn’t miss the festivities, right?”
Vita quickly dressed herself while Daiyu slipped on her leather shoes, her heart racing to a wild tune. She shouldn’t have been excited, but it had been months since she had last seen the emperor, and she wasn’t one to miss a party. At least that’s what she told herself. Deep down, she had an inkling of an idea of why she was excited, but she didn’t want to explore those feelings. Certainly not now.
They both headed out of the room and down the darkened hallways. The closer they drew to the main hall, the brighter and busier the corridors were, with servants bustling in and out with trays of food and drinks.
“Why would His Majesty come here in the middle of the night?” Daiyu smoothed down the errant strands of hair that had come out from her hairstyle and cursed herself for not taking more time to fix it before they left.
“They were probably close enough that he didn’t want to wait until the morning, so he likely used magic to have everyone in his immediate party transported here. He’s done that several times before.”
The doors to the main hall were sprawled open and the boisterous sound of laughter, conversations, and music hummed through the lively air. Daiyu hadn’t heard of the rebellion being squashed up north, but maybe they were successful in quelling the rebel forces for now? It was the only explanation.
Crossing the threshold, Daiyu was blown away by the amount of soldiers milling about the hall with drinks in hand, their cups clinking one another, and the array of warriors lounging about or dancing unashamedly. She hadn’t expected such lightheartedness from the warriors, particularly because they were still clad in imposing dark leathers that made them out to be demonic-like, and yet they appeared so carefree in that moment. So unlike the monstrous, soulless soldiers she had thought they were.
At the end of the hall, Muyang was unceremoniously reclined in his black-gemmed and ruby-studded throne, a drink in his hand and his dark leathers and silks appearing all the more foreboding. His hair was pulled back by a glinting gold hair crown, showcasing his wickedly beautiful face.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. It had been weeks since she had last seen him, and seeing him here, bedecked in his dark glory, he looked just like a victorious, villainous emperor returning home—probably because that’s exactly what he was.
It was only when Vita nudged her shoulder that she ripped her attention away from the emperor. Vita pointed at the far end of the hall and said, “I see the rest of the Peccata over there. Would you like to meet everyone?”
“Oh.” Daiyu’s mind reeled to remember all the members and what she had heard about them; so far, she had only met three: Nikator, Atreus, and Vita. She was drawing a blank as to what the names of the other three were. “Yes, I’d love to meet them.”
Vita grabbed her hand and wove through the crowds toward her adopted siblings. Daiyu looked over her shoulder at where Muyang was seated, surrounded by his group of advisors and generals. He probably didn’t even realize she was here, and as much as she wanted to go over and make her presence known, something held her back from doing just that. A shyness, perhaps? Or bitterness with how he had sent her away here without seeing her off? She wasn’t sure what the warring emotions tugging at her chest meant.
“Remus is the youngest,” Vita said, leading them through the thicket. “Thera and Minos are the oldest at nineteen. They like to pretend like they’re in charge just because they’re older, but everyone really just does their own thing.”
Daiyu was just about to ask where the group was, but her attention was instantly drawn to a group of foreigners who stuck out like sore thumbs among the groups of soldiers. They were all dressed in similar uniforms—black leathers and black-scaled armor. The one who stood out the most was a silver-haired young man. He had two gray horns attached to his head, curling upward sharply, and his eyes were blood-red while the whites were pitch black. He had a cup in his hand, and even in the distance Daiyu could make out the long, black-tipped, claw-like nails he had.
Beside him were Atreus and Nikator, who didn’t see her yet. And beside them were two other foreigners: a beautiful woman with sweeping, dark brown hair that fell down to her waist, and a handsome young man with dark blue eyes.
“Is that …” Daiyu swallowed, her attention stuck on the horned individual. “Is that a demon?”
Vita slowed in her steps and cast her a strange look. “Did no one tell you? Remus is half-demon.”
If Daiyu wasn’t already shocked by the demon’s appearance, she would have stopped and gawked at her like she had said something outlandish. A demon? A real-life demon served the emperor? She had only heard about demons in passing: about their brutality, their inhumanness, and their depravity. She had never thought she would see one in the flesh.
“How old is he?” she found herself asking the closer they drew to the group.
Vita raised her hand when Atreus spotted her and waved her over. “Fifteen.”
“So young,” she murmured.
She didn’t have time to delve into more questions because they stopped by the group promptly. Thera, the young woman, threw her arms over Vita the second she spotted her.
“Vita! Oh, gosh, it’s been so long since we last saw each other!” the woman squealed, squeezing her sister tightly.
Vita, for all her impassiveness, cracked a smile and hugged her back. “It’s been too long.”
Atreus lowered his head at Daiyu. “Lady Daiyu, it’s good to see you doing well.”
Everyone in the party turned their attention to her and she suddenly felt heat clawing up to her face at the unexpected spotlight. A small, polite smile pulled at the corner of her lips and she gave a nod. “Good to see you all,” she said. “I’ve heard a great deal about you all. I’m happy to see that you’re all healthy.” Her answer sounded stiff and impersonal to her own ears, so she laughed nervously and added, “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to say. You all are so different than what I expected—in a good way! My name is Yin Daiyu, by the way. I almost forgot to mention myself. It’s not like you all would know who I am without an introduction, I imagine?” An embarrassed flush spread over her face. She was well aware that she was rambling at this point. “A-Anyway?—”
“We’ve heard a lot about you too!” Thera said with a broad grin, nodding enthusiastically to the others. “Right? You’re His Majesty’s bride! That’s enough to garner the attention of the entire empire. I’d be surprised if there’s someone here who doesn’t know who you are.”
Daiyu’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, really? I wouldn’t have thought anyone would know who I am. I mean, I’m not very important?—”
“You’re too modest!” the blue-eyed young man said with a low chuckle. His eyes crinkled and dimples formed on his tanned cheeks. “My name is Minos, and I’m the leader of the Peccata.”
Thera raised an eyebrow. “Who died and made you king?”
“As the oldest—” he began.
Nikator rolled his eyes. “I’d rather be governed by anyone else.”
“Governed? I’m fairly certain His Majesty rules over us,” Atreus said in a serious tone, just as Vita pulled closer to Daiyu and murmured, “See, I told you they think they’re the leaders.”
Daiyu laughed at the quibbles among the group, but her laughter subsided when she noticed that the demon boy was staring at her intently, his face void of expression. There was something unnerving about his gaze; maybe it was the red and black combination, but it seemed like he saw more than he let on. And that thought sent a shiver down her spine.
“Maybe you should go see His Majesty?” Thera said, jerking her chin toward the throne with a wink. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
“Oh?” Daiyu clasped her hands together in front of herself to keep from fiddling with her fingers, suddenly not sure what to say or what expression to wear. “I’m not sure he’ll care?—”
“Nonsense!” Her smile was contagious as she leaned closer to her, and Daiyu could smell the powerful scent of roses on her. “He’ll be thrilled to see you.”
Maybe it was the push she needed because she found her gaze straying to the grand throne he sat upon. She licked her lips. “Well, it would be impolite not to greet him, I suppose …”
“Oh, I think so too.” Another nudge and wink.
“Well … I suppose I’ll send my greetings.”
With a few more smiles and nods to the group, she departed from them and began making her way through the crowds. Her heart sped a million beats a minute and her hands trembled with anticipation. She had no idea what she was doing. What would she say to him? Why was she so nervous? It didn’t really matter, she wanted to tell herself, whether she saw him now or later, because at the end of the day, they would marry and that would be that. She wasn’t marrying because she was in love with him, so why was she so giddy to meet him all of a sudden? It wasn’t like they were lovers who were separated by war and only now reunited.
She somehow avoided bumping into soldiers until she was in front of the dais the throne was on. Muyang didn’t seem to notice her until she lowered herself into a bow.
“Your Majesty, congratulations on your return,” she murmured, staring down at his boots. “I’m happy to see that you’ve returned victorious.”
Everyone else seemed to disappear from the room until it was only both of them. Her surroundings blurred into nothingness and she swallowed down the nervousness clogging her throat. When she finally raised her eyes to meet his, her chest tightened at the smoldering blackness of his gaze. A slow smile curved at the corner of his soft mouth, and all the weeks separated from one another seemed to disappear in that instant.
“My sweet, little fiend,” he murmured, so softly that it was almost lost in the sea of voices all around them. Her heart skipped a beat and she inhaled sharply—that one word sent a shiver down her spine, tingling her every sense.
“Your Majesty, please don’t call me that,” she whispered, lowering her head to keep from staring at him. She could feel the warmth spreading up her throat to her cheeks.
“Come closer.”
Daiyu hesitated, looking between him and the others surrounding them—everyone else was in their own world, speaking to one another or drinking or eating. No one was paying attention to them.
She stepped up the dais until she was two feet away from him. She laced her hands together and couldn’t help but stare into his eyes that reminded her so much of a starless midnight sky. There was something otherworldly dark about him. So intoxicating that she wanted to inch closer to examine him. To learn.
“My little rabbit.” He spoke the word calmly as he swirled the contents of his cup. He took a sip, closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and then stared at her again. The shadows of the room played across the sharp planes of his face. “Have you forgotten that you can’t stare into my gaze so boldly?”
She blinked, for a moment forgetting herself before she stared down at her feet. “I—Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
“Did you miss me so much that you wish to imprint my image in your memory?” There was a teasing quality in the deep rumble of his voice that told her he wasn’t trying to reprimand her. “Don’t look away. Let me admire you.”
Daiyu peered down at him, suddenly caught in his gaze. She couldn’t look away even if she wanted to—and she didn’t want to. He stared at her unabashedly, his dark eyes flicking over her face, studying her hair, and then following the curve of her neck and down her body. She fidgeted with the end of her sleeve. It seemed inappropriate for him to stare at her like this. Like he wanted to see every inch of her.
Muyang rose to his feet in one swell movement and he was suddenly inches away from her, a slow curving grin on his wicked face. He held his hand out to her. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”
She stared down at his smooth, pale hand, with calluses along the palms and small cuts running over his fingers. Tension coiled in her lower belly, and she wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or thrilling anticipation that made her so giddy. Or the fact that he was requesting something of her when he could have easily ordered her to walk with him.
Slipping her hand in his, she nodded slowly.
They descended from the dais, his hand secured in hers. The crowds of soldiers, as boisterous and lively as they were, parted for them as they swept through the room. Daiyu could feel everyone’s eyes on her and she didn’t know what to think of all the bowing and nodding and respect aimed toward them—aimed at him, but it felt like they were also showing respect to her.
Muyang took her out of the throne room into one of the balconies attached to a random hall she had never been to before. The cool night air brushed against her skin and the sky was bedecked with a thousand glittering stars. Daiyu breathed in the crisp air and found herself drawn to the scenery below them. The capital sprawled in the distance, the houses and buildings forming shadowy spikes and forms in the night, so unlike their usual busyness. Here, in the quiet of midnight, everything seemed to remain still. Like someone had painted the night city with a heavy, inky brush and left it immortalized for all to gape and gawk at its beauty and massiveness.
“It’s a beautiful view,” Daiyu murmured, her hands curling over the railing as she leaned forward. The wind greeted her, carrying the familiar city smell of woodsmoke.
“It is.”
She turned, only to find him staring at her. Her cheeks warmed and she quickly averted her gaze, choosing to stare at the crescent moon. “I meant the city.”
“And I meant what I meant.” He grasped a stray strand of hair that had come undone from her quick updo and rubbed the lock between his fingers. Daiyu could only watch, transfixed, before he released it. The wind carried it over her face, and before she could tuck it behind her ear, he took hold of it again. “You have a beauty like none I’ve seen before.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Daiyu couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped from her.
Muyang tilted his head, one dark brow rising. “Why?”
“You’re …” She turned her head to stare ahead, and her hair slipped from his fingers, joining the rest of her unruly hairstyle. She resisted the urge to push her hair into place. “You’re the emperor. You’ve likely seen thousands of beautiful women throughout this entire royal selection. I’ve been told I’m beautiful, from time to time, but I can never compare or compete with others who’ve spent years perfecting their appearance.”
“I didn’t think you had low self-confidence.”
“I don’t—” She laughed again, this time more awkwardly than before. Tightening her hold on the intricate metal railing, she fitted her fingers against the grooves of the serpent engraving curling over it. “I’m still not accustomed to life here.”
“That doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful.” He inched closer to her, closing the distance between them. “I have seen many beautiful women, that’s true, but none have stoked my interest like you have, Daiyu.”
Until you find another who will. She didn’t say the uneasy words aloud. There was no real reason for him to be interested in her like he was, and it was only a matter of time before he found another just as beautiful, just as quirky, and just as fiery. And then he would take her as his wife, and then another, and another. It was just the way romance with an emperor worked.
She steeled her heart, tamping down her prior giddiness at being so near him. There was only heartbreak involved in being in love with a man like him, and she planned to guard her heart until the bitter end. “Your Majesty, what is it that you see in me? Someone na?ve who has never left her farm? Who wishes for freedom? Who is inexperienced? Do you enjoy the adventure of chasing a maiden whose heart you must win?”
A flash of surprise passed over his face and Muyang watched her with a strange expression—maybe he didn’t expect her to speak so brazenly. “Daiyu—” he began.
“Your Majesty,” she interrupted, staring at him levelly. “I’m not as innocent and na?ve to love as you may think I am. I understand you might find it thrilling to chase down someone who resists you so much, but my heart is guarded. I have loved before, and all it caused me was heartbreak. I hope you understand what I’m trying to say.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Why are you telling me this?”
She wasn’t even sure. She was pushing him away, she could tell that much, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. And why now, when he just returned to her? She should have been excited to be here with him, and she should have given herself into the moment, allowed him to show her the beautiful scenery and perhaps even flirt with her. But there was an uneasiness in her chest that wanted him far away from her—particularly from her heart.
She knew what it felt like to have her heart ripped from her chest. To have it broken into tiny shards that made it irreparable to put the pieces back together. And she knew that if she fell in love with Drakkon Muyang, her heart would forever bleed as he took on more and more women into his circle.
But she needed him, a small voice squeaked in the back of her mind. She needed him for stability and wealth for her family. For the prestige and status and safety he offered.
“Your Majesty, I just want you to know that … that I can’t give my heart to you. I feel that it would be disingenuous of me to marry you without you realizing that,” she whispered, hoping for her words to disappear into the night. She couldn’t meet his gaze as she spoke, her voice dropping. “I have loved another for many years and I lost him four years ago. My heart seems to be buried with him in his grave.”
She could feel him boring holes into her with his eyes alone. “How did he die?”
“On the battlefield.” She pursed her lips together. The dull aching that usually accompanied her when she thought of Heng was gone, and in its place, there was only brief sadness—like a passing wind that gently reminded her of what used to be. “He was an imperial soldier.”
“Ah.” Muyang’s voice flattened. “So he faced my armies.”
“He did.”
“And died.”
She nodded, finally looking over at him. He didn’t appear furious, or frustrated, or irritated like she thought he would be.
“Is that why you hate me so much? Because I stole the love of your life from you?”
Her mouth dried up and she couldn’t rip her gaze from his. The space between them seemed to stretch farther and farther, even though they were so near. So close to one another that she could have touched his cheek if she wanted to—and she had an inkling of an idea that he would have let her. Her lower lip trembled and she hated the tightness of her chest, the closing of her throat. As if her whole body was resisting her. “I don’t …” She could barely form the words. “I don’t hate you and that’s …” That’s what makes this so much harder.
It would have been so easy to hate him. So easy to see him as nothing more than a wicked, evil tyrant. But she knew, over these past few months with him, that he wasn’t as cruel as she believed him to be. A villain in his own right, but not to her.
“Daiyu,” he murmured, grazing her cheek with the back of his knuckle. A shiver ran down her spine, and he studied her face seriously, his brows drawn together and his voice velvety smooth. “I never expected to be your first love. I would never dream of having such a lofty position in your heart. I hate that I could never be there for you when you needed it. And as much as I would love to be the first man to take your heart, I knew that would never be the case. But I am an emperor. A king. A man who takes what he wants, and who will stop at nothing to grasp what he covets. Daiyu, I do intend to be the last one to take your heart, and I don’t plan to let it go until the ends of time. Do you understand me?”
Her lips parted, but no words came out, her tongue too tangled to speak properly. There was a fluttering in the pit of her stomach that reminded her too much of a cage of butterflies. He was planning on stealing her heart, whether she wanted him to or not. His intention was clear and although she should have laughed at him and told him it was futile, she could do no such thing.
Her cheeks flushed with color and she stammered, “Y-You’re mistaken if you think it will be easy. I have no plans to give myself to you, Your Majesty.”
“I never expected it to be easy.”
“I won’t let you have my heart.”
A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “We’ll see.”
Daiyu turned her back to him and hugged her elbows close to her body. Even with the cover of night, she didn’t want him to see her blush, or the way her lips wouldn’t stop quivering. “I think it’s best that we head back inside. I’m cold here and I don’t want anyone to think you whisked me away in the middle of the celebration in order to have your way with me.”
He barked a laughter that warmed her down to her core. “Is that what you’re thinking about? Me having my way with you?”
“Of course not. I’m thinking of my own dignity here.” She cleared her throat and shot him a sheepish frown. “I’m not keen on the idea of people presuming strange things about me. Like how I’ve somehow enchanted the emperor with my skills.”
Muyang laughed again, this time softer. “Then we should hurry back.”
When they reached the throne room again, Daiyu excused herself from Muyang to nibble on the snacks and delicacies being served in the hall. She hung in the back of the room, eating a sticky, sweet, rice cake filled with sugary red bean paste, and tried to clear her muddy thoughts. She was still unsure if she was making the right decision here—marrying Muyang and casting her fate to be one of the many women who would remain by his side. Was it worth the risks? The threats that would come her way? The heartbreak?
She couldn’t take Muyang’s words seriously. A man who coveted a woman would say anything to have her, but once he had her in his grasp, all his whispered promises would turn to ash. She had seen it on more than one occasion with the girls back in her village.
She had to seal away all these flighty emotions she had for Muyang. She could feel herself drawing to him more and more, and the idea of falling for him opened a deep pit of despair and horror inside her. She couldn’t fall for him. She simply couldn’t.
Popping the sticky sweet delicacy in her mouth, she chewed and mulled over her thoughts, her gaze traveling throughout the room of warriors. A familiar face caught her attention at one end of the room. A thin woman who was filling a cup for one of the warriors. All at once, the color drained from Daiyu’s face. That was the woman who had entered her room and served her tea all those weeks ago—the same tea that ended up being poisoned.
Daiyu swallowed down the last of her food and bolted forward. She wove through the throngs of people, never averting her attention from the woman. When she was ten feet away, the woman finally noticed her, and her expression dropped.
“Hey—” Daiyu started, but the woman had already spun on her heels and was rushing to the door.
The woman deserted her pitcher of wine onto a side table and hurried out of the hall. Daiyu bunched her skirts in one hand and chased after her, bumping into people as she went. She murmured her apologies, too focused on the woman, and made her way out of the room. She looked left and right—and noticed the woman disappear around the corner. Daiyu followed, her strides shorter than the woman’s. Adrenaline pumped through her veins when she caught sight of the woman at the end of the hallway. She pushed herself faster, her thighs burning.
“Hey, you!” Daiyu shouted, nearly barreling into a servant carrying a platter of sweet cakes into the throne room. “Excuse me?—”
The woman turned down another corner of the corridor, but Daiyu was hot on her trail, not wanting to let her go for a second. They were in a deserted hallway, farther from the loudness of the throne room, but close enough to hear the thrumming of music and conversation.
Daiyu grabbed the woman’s bicep and yanked her back. The woman careened back and slammed into the wall, crying in protest. She tried wriggling to Daiyu’s left to escape, but she shoved her into the wall again. Pinning her hands onto the woman’s shoulders, she glared at her.
“You.” Her breaths came raggedy and she tried to calm herself, even though she wanted to slap the woman for almost killing her. Her nails dug into the woman’s shoulders. “You poisoned me!”
The woman trembled, the whites of her eyes showing. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Liar!” Daiyu narrowed her eyes at the woman, tightening her hold on her. “You poisoned me that night. And you wouldn’t be running from me if you didn’t do anything.”
“I didn’t?—”
“Stop lying!” she shouted. “I know you poisoned me, but I want to know why and who asked you to do it?”
The woman continued to quiver and cry. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and she choked back a response. “I-I didn’t mean to. I’m terribly—terribly sorry.”
“You almost killed me.” She continued glaring at the woman. “His Majesty can have you killed for that. You understand, don’t you? That he will kill you if he finds out?”
She sobbed, her face scrunching together and fear making her legs wobble into one another. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Who told you to poison me?”
“I can’t say.”
Daiyu jabbed her nails deeper into the woman’s flesh and she flinched. “If you tell me now, I won’t tell His Majesty what you did.”
She hesitated, the fear clear as day on her face, and Daiyu only had to push her a little more to crack her open. She could tell by looking at her. She leaned forward, hating that she had to resort to these measures, but knowing very well that she needed to find answers.
“His Majesty will torture you for days on end, with his cruel magic that will strip the humanity from you. Day in and day out, you’ll wish you were dead. I’m the first woman His Majesty has ever wanted to marry—don’t you think he will go to the ends of this empire to eliminate anyone who dares harm me? You went against His Majesty’s wishes when you tried to poison me. If you think that he’ll let you go just because the person who employed you is powerful, you’re mistaken. You and I both know what happens to traitors. So speak. Who poisoned me? Only I can save you from his ire.”
A sob bubbled from the woman’s mouth and she slid down the wall to the floor. Daiyu kneeled with her, her hands still gripping the woman’s shoulders. “W-Wang Yanlin,” the maidservant cried. “She told me to do it. I didn’t want to do it, but she offered a substantial amount of money, and I … I’m ashamed to say I—” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t … I don’t know why … I’m just …”
Wang Yanlin.
Daiyu released the woman and clambered to her feet slowly. She didn’t recognize the name, but it was a start. She stared down at the weeping, fearful woman. A part of her felt for the woman, but the bigger part of her was disgusted by what greed and wealth could do to someone.
This was what it meant to be in His Majesty’s court. To poison. To threaten. To kill. And to be clever about it.
And now Daiyu was a part of it too.