Chapter 3 #2
Biyu’s steps slowed as they neared the library doors.
She still remembered when the geometric patterns on the top section of them formed a circle in the middle with various squares and triangles surrounding what was supposed to be the moon.
Just like the MuRong symbol. But now those doors were replaced with dragon-carved ones.
There were still beautiful, metal lacing geometric symbols on the top, but the bottom was of a snarling dragon with fire erupting from its mouth.
A sense of nostalgia hit her; she used to sneak in here when she was trying to escape her poetry lessons. She almost always found Yat-sen in there, curled under one of the tables with an open scroll in hand.
Maybe he was inside?
But just when she thought to make an excuse as to why she would even need to enter, a mage opened the door and slipped out. His emerald robes fluttered behind him and, upon noticing her, he cast her a narrowed scowl.
Biyu averted her gaze and hastened her steps away from the library.
She had almost forgotten that the royal library was no longer empty.
Now, it was packed with mages poring over books, scrolls, and researching about magic.
Ever since Drakkon Muyang took over the throne, he had implemented many changes regarding magic, particularly the study of it.
Before, magic research had been limited to nobles, but now anybody with an aptitude of magic was allowed to become an imperial mage or a palace mage.
Though the testing was apparently extremely intensive, regardless of status.
As she scurried away, her thoughts wandered to Feiyu, the previous head mage.
He had always been an interesting figure, but he’d disappeared a few months ago and the position had been handed silently to someone else.
The emperor didn’t mention it, and nobody else did either, but his sudden departure had left many hanging questions.
Like where he’d gone. What had happened to him.
Biyu herself wondered about the mysterious head mage who always wore a dragon mask. He had been … kind to her, and she suspected, as others did as well, that he had done something to displease His Majesty and had lost his life as a result.
A voice cut through her thoughts. “This isn’t the direction of your room.”
She halted in her steps, her breath hitching at the familiarity of it.
She spun on her heels—a bit too fast—and collided with a wall of corded muscles.
She stumbled back and craned her neck to find deep sapphire eyes peering down at her with thinly veiled disdain.
Nikator’s red hair appeared like old blood in the dimmer lighting of the hallway, and shadows danced over his chiseled cheekbones.
If he wasn’t such a terrifying monster, she would have marveled at how utterly beautiful he was.
At how his stare was sure to melt women who didn’t know any better.
Or how his eyes glittered like a starlit ocean when he wasn’t glaring.
But he was definitely glaring right now, and it made every fiber of her being freeze.
His eyes narrowed to slits, and she realized she was gaping at him. Biyu licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She was entranced in whatever demonic pull he had over her.
“I wanted to take a longer walk,” she said, finally finding the words. Her mind blanked on what else to say as sheer panic bubbled in her chest, making her legs leaden and sending her heart thundering.
He blinked—slowly, and she didn’t miss the way distrust flickered over his face. His dark eyebrow quirked up. “A walk? Since when are you allowed to go where you please?” He glanced at the guards flanking her, while she flinched at his words. “And you two allowed this suspicious behavior?”
Her guards shifted on their feet.
“She … doesn’t normally make requests, so we thought …” The guard, whose hair was peppered with streaks of gray, lifted his shoulders sheepishly. “That it wouldn’t hurt.”
“And don’t you think that makes it all the more suspicious?”
Biyu couldn’t breathe; he was wary of her.
He thought she was up to no good. And he was right. The idea alone drained all the blood from her body and stole the air from her lungs. His damned intuition seemed to be right on the nose, and it terrified her down to her bones what he would do to her next.
The older guard among the two coughed. “Well … it sounds suspicious, but … but Princess Biyu isn’t like that.”
“Isn’t like … what?” Nikator’s words snapped out like a whip and the two guards winced at the harshness of it.
“She’s not …”
Nikator waited a moment while the older man fumbled with his words, and for some reason, that sparked her annoyance.
Despite the fear curdling her stomach and making her want to run, hide, vomit, or all three, a surge of fire roared in her veins and she hated—absolutely hated—being talked to like she wasn’t even there.
Maybe it was the events of the morning that made her want to lash out, but she was reaching her limit.
“I’m standing right here,” she said with enough heat to burn him on the spot. She would have liked to see that—him succumbing to her, even if it was just a fantasy. “Why is it so terrible for me to take a walk in this palace? This used to be my home. And even as I am now, I am allowed to be here.”
Nikator’s attention flicked to her and she forgot to breathe once more as those cold, soulless eyes bored into hers.
The corner of his mouth rose to a half-smirk and she could have sworn she saw a hint of something lingering on his face before his expression shuttered.
“Contrary to what you believe, Princess Biyu, you are not allowed to walk these halls without explicit permission from His Majesty. And you are also forgetting that these halls are no longer yours. You’re a princess of a dead dynasty. You do not belong in this palace.”
Her hands curled. “I’m still a princess and I have dignity. You can’t accuse me just because you don’t like that I’m walking in the halls.”
“I didn’t accuse you of anything.”
“You insinuated that I was being suspicious.”
“I certainly said you were suspicious,” he continued smoothly, taking a step forward until they were close enough to touch.
He peered down at her like she was nothing, and the smell of ocean breeze, vanilla spice, and something warm assaulted her senses, making it hard to breathe without being so aware of how close he was.
How his scent alone made her bones tremble.
And now he was staring at her like he was waiting for a response.
When she didn’t answer, the corner of his mouth twitched. “I didn’t say you were up to anything, princess. I said you were suspicious, but when did I accuse you of anything?”
“But you said …” She tried to think of his exact words, but her mind was blanking once again as more anxiety set in.
What was it that he had told her? The more he and the guards stared at her, the more her brain became knotted together until she didn’t know what to say.
Something within her shriveled up, and whatever courage she had mustered seemed to die with it.
“I assure you that I’m simply trying to get back to my room.” She hated the tremble in her voice, and how he brought it upon her.
Nikator watched her for a few moments—moments that seemed to stretch for eternity as his gaze zeroed in on her face and seemed to be searching for something.
She held her ground and stared back, but it was mostly because it was all she could do.
She couldn’t run, she couldn’t hide, and she certainly couldn’t vomit all over him.
He snapped his attention to her guards. “You both are dismissed. I’ll take her to her room.”
They both blinked. He was the emperor’s warrior, so he did have some sway over the soldiers and guards, but she didn’t think he was allowed to simply dismiss her guards. They must have been wondering the same thing, because they both hesitated.
Biyu swallowed down her rising horror; she didn’t want him to lead her anywhere.
“That’s all right, sir,” she said, for lack of a better title, because she certainly couldn’t go around calling him a murderer, a killer, or a savage beast—though they all fit much more perfectly. “Thank you for your concern, but my guards are very much able to escort me to my chambers.”
A slow smile lifted his lips and remained there. It chilled her down to her core. “You have everyone fooled, don’t you? Playing the part of a vulnerable, unassuming princess who can’t do anything, and yet you have fangs, claws, and fire in your soul.”
“What are you talking about?” Her hands shook with something—rage, perhaps, or confusion, or hatred. She couldn’t tell which. “I’m not—I’m not like that.”
If she was, she wouldn’t have remained here. She would have tried to escape a long time ago, instead of trying to warn Yat-sen of the dangers of trying anything rash. She was a coward when it mattered. She certainly didn’t have a fire in her soul, even if her flesh seemed to crave it.
He glanced sharply at the two guards, his voice cold. “I told you both that you’re dismissed. Leave. Now.”
This time, they didn’t falter and scampered away, leaving Biyu alone in the dark hallway with Nikator.
He turned toward her and she stiffened at the coldness in his calculating gaze.
A smile curved his lips again, and she hated how her chest tightened in fear—and something else—at the mere sight of it.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her hands fisting together. “I could have gone with my guards.”
“I’m sure you could have.” He waved toward the end of the corridor and flashed her a sharp, lethal grin. “Lead the way, princess.”
Biyu couldn’t help but glare at him and the way he mockingly threw her title around, especially when they both knew that he didn’t think of her as anything. She certainly wasn’t a princess in his eyes anymore; not since his emperor took her father’s throne.
If he wanted to make things difficult for her, then fine. She’d make things ten times worse.
Instead of walking at a brisk pace like he would have likely preferred, she took her sweet time.
Her steps slowed and she stared at the fancy decorations lining the walls as if she had never seen them before.
Her eyes drank in the geometric patterns adorning the line of doors, the jade-colored glazed tiles that decorated the halls, the vermillion painted pillars, and the intricately interlaced windows overlooking the gardens.
Nikator trailed behind her, but if he was impatient, he didn’t show it—and Biyu certainly didn’t want to stare at him to find out what he was thinking beneath that cool demeanor of his.
After what felt like eternity, but was probably only ten minutes, she reached her bedchamber doors.
A wave of relief washed over her at finally ridding herself of Nikator’s presence.
She was also relieved that Yat-sen hadn’t tried to contact her during her trek to her room.
The last thing she needed right now was to be put in a compromising situation.
Right as she touched the ornate handle, Nikator’s hand snaked forward. The rough callouses on his hand brushed against her soft skin, and he clamped down on her wrist painfully. She inhaled sharply, turning to him with wide eyes.
“What are you doing?” she said, trying to yank away from him, but he held on too firmly.
He stepped forward, and she backed away until her back was pressed against her door. He twisted her wrist and pinned it above her head, despite her struggle to free herself, and with a flash of steel, she felt the point of a knife pressed against her neck.
She stilled. This time, Nikator’s smile almost seemed genuine; his eyes sparkled, and if it wasn’t for the blade on her neck, she would have thought he was about to tell her something amusing.
“Now, princess,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “what was written in the note the prince gave you?”