Chapter 2 #3
Biyu hesitated; she hadn’t expected to have an actual conversation here. She was supposed to bow down, greet them, and then scurry off to her designated table beside Liqin.
“I’ve …” Her voice trembled, nearly drowning away with the other conversations blooming around her.
Her heart raced and she couldn’t find the words.
She most certainly wasn’t all right. The memory of her rude awakening with Chao was still imprinted in her mind, and she couldn’t shake her unease, nor her desire to run far, far away.
She stared at the glazed tiles in front of her, her stomach twisting into knots. As if a fog had entered her mind, she found it hard to think, hard to breathe. The woman had asked her a simple, mundane question—how are you? And yet she couldn’t even think of a response.
What was she supposed to say in these situations?
Her breathing hitched; she could now feel the emperor’s attention shift onto her, no doubt wondering why she was silent. She licked her lips, tasting the cosmetics Lin had painted there.
How are you?
It was a simple question. She just had to open her mouth and sat that she was fine.
A gentle hand laid on her shoulder and she jerked her head up to find Daiyu standing in front of her. A concerned look flashed over her beautiful face, her eyebrows pulling together over her soft doe eyes.
“Princess Biyu? You don’t look well,” she said ever so quietly. “Please, get up.”
“I—I am well, thank you.”
Biyu hauled herself to her feet, the backs of her eyes burning. She could already hear Liqin’s razored response, which would certainly come once she sat down beside her. She was incompetent. Unable to even think when pressured.
Daiyu rubbed Biyu’s arm slowly, as if trying to return the color she had lost. “No need to feel so tense. I understand how debilitating it can be to be out here in public like this.” Her voice was low so only they both could hear, and a gentle smile graced her face.
“I, too, felt nauseous when surrounded by so many people. I’m sure it’s even harder once it’s been a while since you’ve been in court. ”
“I’m …” She tried to smile, but she could feel the emperor’s evil gaze set on her.
She swallowed down the apprehension clawing up her throat.
She could still remember the way this man had entered this very hall, which had been decorated in shades of emerald and silver, the colors of the MuRong dynasty, and how he had slain her father’s court.
She was certain her father’s head had rolled where she stood.
“Please, have a seat and enjoy yourself.” Daiyu smiled and it broke something deep within Biyu; it had been a long, long time since anyone had genuinely been kind to her. Not out of duty, or pity, but actual kindness.
Biyu bobbed her head and her guards led her to one of the tables where Liqin was already seated; her sister, as expected, was glaring at her with a look of disgust. Biyu withered within herself.
She had acted like a fool and she knew it; everyone who was around to see it likely knew it.
Why was it so hard for her to simply speak normal words?
When Biyu sat down beside her sister, she—as expected—sneered, “Why do you always embarrass us?”
She clammed up again. Her thoughts disappeared as Liqin continued to quietly snap insults at her.
After ten or so minutes, Liqin finally stopped her verbal assault and began eating her breakfast, which the servants had brought a few minutes prior.
Steamed, sticky rice, meats and vegetables smothered in garlicky, soy glazed sauce, and fried eggs with scallions and chili oil drizzled on top was served to them.
Biyu picked up her chopsticks gingerly and poked at the egg, watching the yolk ooze over her food.
Her appetite was gone, but she still forced herself to eat.
Her gaze skated over to the rest of the hall and guests. Most of everyone ignored her, like they always did, but the ones that didn’t either gave her curious, pitying looks, or disdainful ones. One pair of black eyes caught her attention, halting the breath in her lungs.
Her half-brother, Yat-sen, sat across the hall at a short table with their other half-brother, Daewon, who was only ten.
The latter was unceremoniously stuffing his face and laughing at something someone to his right was saying; he had been too young to remember when the throne was usurped and had been spared most of the ill treatment due to his age, so it made sense that he could act so carefree in a court that saw him as an enemy.
Yat-sen, however, sat still as a statue beside him, his eyes trained on Biyu.
Relief bubbled in the pit of her stomach.
He was alive and, by the looks of it, well and healthy.
She had been terrified the emperor had mutilated him as punishment, or worse.
He must have recently been released from the mage towers, where he had been locked away for using magic.
He was only fifteen—no, sixteen—and yet he looked older than his years.
Biyu was a few years older than him at twenty, but she supposed she probably looked the same as him—haunted.
Although she and Yat-sen were siblings, they looked nothing alike. They both looked like their respective mothers, and the only feature they shared between them was the singular feature they shared with their late father—their eyes. Midnight black. Soulless. Like staring into an abyss.
He was still staring at her, like he was trying to tell her something, but they were too far away from each other—directly across the hall from one another—to be able to converse at all.
She could only smile at him, but he didn’t return the smile, only turning to speak to a servant who was placing tea beside his meal.
Biyu had never been close to any of her siblings.
In fact, she had been one of the many children whom their father largely ignored, since their mothers, either consorts or concubines, weren’t ranked highly.
Yat-sen, like her, had been disfavored, or neutrally ignored, by their father.
But even with their low status within their family, they had rarely spoken to one another.
Why had he been staring at her?
Biyu shifted in her seat and absentmindedly pushed a sliver of chicken around in the thick sauce on her plate.
She could only imagine what torture he had gone through at the mage towers.
It was quite possible that he thought he’d never see her again.
She had actually thought he was going to be executed this time around, since the rebel cause had grown stronger back when Yat-sen had used his magic, and she had heard that a handful of traitors had been found in the north where Yat-sen and His Majesty had gone.
What perfect chance would that have been for the emperor to rid himself of her half-brother?
The young man the rebels wanted to put on the throne?
She was more surprised by the fact that he lived.
There was no real reason for any of them to still be alive.
She didn’t know what the emperor was thinking. And, frankly, neither did most of his court.
“Your Highness,” a servant murmured, placing a cup of steaming tea beside her plate.
“Thank you,” Biyu said automatically.
The woman bumped into her wrist and nearly dropped the empty serving platter.
Right then, she discreetly pressed a slip of paper in Biyu’s hand.
Biyu froze, her fingers curling around the note.
She drew her hands into her lap while the woman said a few apologies and then scurried off. The woman didn’t meet anyone’s gaze.
Biyu licked her lips nervously and quickly looked down at the note, keeping it hidden beneath the table.
Leave early. We need to talk.
She crumpled the slip and tucked it into one of the hidden pockets within her wide sleeves. Her heartbeat roared in her ears and her gaze cut straight to her half-brother, who was watching her intently. She blinked and he averted his gaze, but she didn’t miss the urgency in his stare.
He was up to no good; she knew that instantly.
Her stomach twisted into knots and what little of her appetite she had gained, disappeared as more apprehension swirled in the pit of her belly.
Yat-sen needed her help with something, and by the way Liqin and Daewon both appeared oblivious, he hadn’t confided in those two. But why her?
Keeping Liqin in the dark made sense, since their viper-like sister had terrorized him and Biyu their whole lives, so she would understand if he wanted nothing to do with her.
Daewon … well, he was young and there was a chance that he wouldn’t be interested in whatever treasonous idea Yat-sen had concocted.
He also didn’t seem too bothered with his current position.
Buy Biyu wasn’t a great option, either. She didn’t want to rebel against the emperor.
Just the mere presence of him terrified her down to her bones.
She didn’t want to anger him, or do anything that would compromise what little safety and comfort she had here.
She was a coward, and she thought that was clear for all to see.
Why would he need her help?
This wasn’t a good idea.
She knew it immediately. Every hair on her body rose, and goosebumps riddled her flesh.
Her hands curled over the edge of her seat and she dug her toes deeper into her uncomfortable, stiff silken shoes, as if that would keep her from bolting from this room and going far, far away from all this madness.