Chapter 2 #2
“Heavens, child, what are you wearing out here? You look a mess!” the woman clucked her tongue and motioned her inside her bedchambers.
She pushed past the guards, casting them a narrowed glare.
“And what are you three men gawking at? Only one of you is the princess’s guard.
Go on, now, leave, lest I tell His Majesty what you three were up to.
” She made a throaty sound, while the three men exchanged glances.
“We weren’t doing anything,” the third guard said with a frown. “If anything, you should be thanking us for not allowing the princess to escape her room. If His Majesty finds out, she could be whipped, or worse.”
“Right, right.” The other bobbed his head.
Chao grinned slowly. He was staring at Biyu now, the hunger in his eyes intensifying. “Yes, we were helping her return to her room. She seems to have had a nightmare, which prompted her to run like devils were at her heels. We were simply escorting her back.”
Biyu’s hands curled together and she fought the urge to incinerate him on the spot.
She exhaled through her nose, counting her thundering heartbeat.
Her fear of the mage towers kept her rooted in place, her magic properly leashed.
She wasn’t allowed to use any magic, not since Drakkon Muyang had taken the throne five years ago.
The maidservant raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question them further as she waved toward the bedroom door. “Come now, princess, we must get you ready.”
“Ready for what?” Biyu whispered, not trusting her voice to betray her emotions; she didn’t want to show her vulnerabilities to these men. It would only make her feel even smaller than she did now.
“His Majesty wishes for everyone in his court to be present for breakfast. He has an announcement to make.”
She flinched, an uneasiness burrowing deep in her knotted stomach.
The last time there had been an announcement, it was actually a beheading.
The man had apparently been a spy for the rebel cause, wishing to usurp the throne and give it back to its rightful heir—which was currently her half-brother, Yat-sen.
The emperor had skinned the traitor alive and then sliced his head off.
She could still remember the screams that had followed in the wake of the torture; the smell of iron that filled the air, the brutality of the man’s skin being flayed off, the blood that had drenched the floors …
And how, afterward, the emperor forced everyone to eat breakfast as if nothing had happened.
Bile filled her mouth and she swallowed down the bitter taste.
She didn’t want to be present for another macabre scene like that.
They entered her bedchambers, and Lin slammed the doors shut.
She wiped her hands together with a long sigh.
She remained that way, her trembling hands pressed against the door, for a moment longer.
And it took Biyu a moment to realize why—she, too, was afraid of those guards.
Of those vicious men. She could read their intentions clear as day; any woman, likely, could read them.
Biyu approached the older woman and placed a hand on her hunkered shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said, her lower lip quivering.
She didn’t have the courage that the maidservant had; she hadn’t been able to push them away.
She had frozen at the sight of danger. Shame curdled her stomach, souring the taste in her mouth.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears and she quickly averted her attention to the window overlooking the gardens.
She wished, more than anything, to be out there.
Lin breathed out shakily and her leathery hand covered Biyu’s. She patted her twice, and then said, “Well, we have work to get to.”
The older woman eyed the shattered lantern, but said nothing as she went to the vanity couch that was shoved against the window sill, moved it toward the vanity, and then ushered Biyu to sit on it.
She then got to work combing and unknotting her wavy hair.
She hummed as Biyu’s scalp was pulled this way and that, as hairpins and gold accessories were woven into her hair.
The entire time, every pore of Biyu’s body was poised and ready to run.
Her flight or fight reaction hadn’t died off, not even when Lin placed a cool, gold-plated necklace against her throat, or when she painted a lotus between her eyebrows, or applied powdery makeup over her cheeks.
She couldn’t erase the image of Chao standing at the end of her bed with his hands … where they didn’t belong. He had been pleasuring himself to her.
Revulsion pulsed through every fiber of her being. Bile climbed up her throat and she had to swallow hard to keep from retching all over the lilac-colored skirts which Lin had painstakingly forced her into. All the layers of fabric, the belt, and the heavy material made Biyu sweat even more.
More than once, her mind traveled to the outside world, where the wind carried the scent of flowers. Where there were no strange men leering at her. Where she could breathe in peace.
Lin smiled at Biyu’s reflection in the mirror, seeming to admire her work.
“You look beautiful, Your Highness.” She fussed with the hairpins and adjusted them so that the chains of the gold butterfly one dangled behind her head with her every head movement.
“There. Perfect. I didn’t think I would be able to draw the makeup so perfectly—what, with these quaking, old hands of mine—but I think it turned out lovely. What do you think?”
“It’s …” She stared at herself blankly. “Beautiful. Thank you.”
There really was no use in beautifying her when she was simply a prisoner in this wretched gilded palace.
Everyone looked at her with either pity or disdain—the former because of their kind hearts and possibly because they remembered the previous dynasty, and the latter because she was one of the last remnants of a dead dynasty that they would rather see snuffed out than paraded around.
Biyu fiddled with the wide end of her sleeve. She needed to mentally prepare herself for what was to come next; she always hated public events like this. Even before Emperor Drakkon Muyang usurped the throne, she’d hated being gawked at by father’s court.
“Come now, Your Highness,” Lin said. “You must go.”
She clutched the older woman’s arm, fear suddenly spearing her heart. “Promise me you will walk with me so I will not have to be alone with that man.”
The older woman blinked slowly, and then nodded.
Relief eased from her tightened lungs. “Thank you.”
They left the room, but it appeared Biyu’s fears were unfounded, because two different guards stood stationed by her door.
They were older and she recognized them both; although they were firm, silent, and didn’t particularly like her, they had never tried anything lecherous with her.
They were in the party who pitied her. She would be safe with them; at least she knew that for certain.
Still, the response to flee thrummed in her overactive body as she was led through the winding halls of the palace.
Her throat constricted with every step, her head feeling heavier and her breaths coming shallowly as her nerves were pulled taut.
She didn’t want to see the emperor, nor his vicious court.
And she particularly didn’t want to see the Peccata, His Majesty’s lethal and loyal warriors.
When they reached one the grand hall of the palace, Lin bowed and left, and the guards flanking her escorted her inside.
Dozens of people filled the room; nobles in fine silks, dripping with gems and gold, sat at long tables conversing with one another, palace guards in their imperial uniforms skirted the exits and entrances, and palace mages garbed in brilliant verdant robes mingled with the nobles.
Beautiful yellow flowers—chrysanthemums, daffodils, and roses—decorated the space.
Garlands were wound around the giant jade pillars on the sides of the hall.
The vermillion and ink-black banners of the Drakkon dynasty hung from the tall ceiling, emblazoning the room.
At the dais in the front of the grand hall was a velvet couch where the emperor and empress sat.
Drakkon Muyang was leaning into the couch almost lazily, his gaze flitting over his court with mild interest, that bored look etched onto his cruel, handsome face—he always looked like that, like he was waiting for something wicked, something exciting to happen.
Beside him, his wife, Yin Daiyu, sat with her hand resting on his as she whispered something in his ear.
Biyu had met the beautiful woman before, when Daiyu had asked whether Biyu knew any information about who was targeting her—it was later found out it was a jealous noblewoman.
Daiyu appeared … sweet. Uncharacteristic for this vicious, evil court.
Biyu truthfully wished the poor woman, who had been a commoner before His Majesty chose her as his bride all those months ago, was able to survive here.
As a princess, Biyu knew just how terrible all of these fake people with their fake smiles were.
Biyu strode her way to the dais, her heart thundering, her guards trailing behind her. It was customary for everyone to greet the emperor and empress first when entering any event or area where they were present.
She dropped to her knees, as did her guards, and placed a trembling hand to her chest. She didn’t want to meet the emperor’s midnight-colored eyes.
Not that she was supposed to, anyway, but the few times she had accidentally met his gaze, a coldness so wretched and wintry had taken a hold of her soul that it burned her.
“Good morning, Your Majesties,” she whispered.
Yin Daiyu perked at seeing her. “Good morning to you too, Princess Biyu,” she said. “Such a pleasant surprise to see you here. How are you? I hope you’ve been well.”