Chapter 5
When Biyu was fifteen, one of the palace guards tried to assault her.
It was only a few months after the wicked emperor killed her father and took the throne.
She had guards on her at all times like now; but back then, she wasn’t even allowed any walks in the garden.
She had no one to lean on. No one to talk to. And no one but enemies all around her.
The guards from five years ago usually ignored her or taunted her, but they never tried anything with her.
Until one night, when a rather handsy guard had shoved her against the wall of the hall, and tried yanking her clothes off.
The other guards had stood watch, waiting for their own turn.
She could still remember the leers, the grins they’d sent to each other, the way some had touched themselves.
She had fought hard, kicking, screaming, clawing at the man while the other laughed.
There were a dozen of them and she had been sure—so sure that it frightened her—that even if she managed to fight one, she was no match against the rest. But before anything could happen, the men had frozen. Not in shock, but quite literally.
Their eyes had moved, panic swirling in them, but their bodies were frozen in position. As if they were stuck in a painting. A horrendous, macabre painting of a princess being ambushed.
Biyu remembered shoving the man away and pulling the torn fabrics of her dress over her body, her limbs shaking even as she backed away from their still frames.
“Unacceptable.” A smooth, hauntingly terrifying voice had murmured.
She had flinched and whirled around to find a man at the end of the hallway, walking toward them, wearing the deep, verdant robes of a mage. She’d recognized him as the head mage, Feiyu, by his unmistakable black and red dragon mask.
He’d paused in front of her and she’d trembled away from him. Would he attack her next? Would he try something? Would he laugh? Would he—
He’d placed a hand on the top of her head. “Calm yourself, child. You are safe.”
Biyu hadn’t believed him. She had only stared at the slits in his mask that revealed impossibly black eyes—eyes that looked too similar to her own.
“I am never safe here,” she had whispered.
“How do you wish for them to die?”
When she didn’t answer, he simply patted her head and waved her off. “Go, princess. Rest in your room. I will handle this.”
She had run off the instant he said that.
The next morning, all of the guards were found dead, their corpses impaled by giant metal rods in the courtyard, and their severed heads mounted on spikes.
All of the imperial guards were called forth and sent a clear message: no one was allowed to touch a royal.
Ever. Even a disgraced royal like herself.
He had saved her, but he couldn’t save her from all the trauma, the fear that followed her everywhere, particularly wherever men were present.
She was alone for so long that she felt like she was going mad.
That even the shadows were trying to grab her, murder her, and violate her.
She withdrew even more within herself, going mad with fear, pain, and something deeper—something dark that gripped her tightly and didn’t release her.
The dragon-masked mage had visited her once more.
“You are not well, princess.”
She was hiding beneath her covers, the curtains of her bed drawn closed, the window shutters sealed shut so there was only blackness surrounding her. She didn’t remember the last time she had left the bed.
“Princess, you need to eat.”
She did not speak.
“I have brought you a gift.”
She wanted to disappear.
“A beautiful kitten. You like cats, do you not?”
She did not want a cat.
“You may keep her here. His Majesty has agreed to it, and he has agreed to allow you to walk in the gardens weekly.”
She didn’t care.
“Forgive me, princess, for my part in your life’s misery. As penance, I offer you a single wish, bound by my word as the Serpent Prince. Whatever your heart desires, it shall be yours. The only mercy I cannot give you is freedom from this palace–anything else, and it is yours.”
Even that wasn’t enough to coax her to talk or get out of bed. She didn’t want any wishes. She just wanted … to disappear.
What was the point of a life like this?
He’d come every day to talk to her. To coax her to eat a little.
And he would tell her stories about magic and history and folklore from around the empire.
He would sit with her even when she didn’t speak to him, even when she was lost in her own dreadful, dark thoughts.
He would bring the little gray kitten with him during every visit, and would let the kitten explore and linger around her form, and when she made no move to take the animal, he would take it with him and leave. Every. Single. Day.
Until, at last, a tiny shred of light seemed to open in her heart and she’d found herself asking questions about his magical tales. He would take her to the gardens and show her all the flowers. He made her laugh. He gave her the kitten, whom she named Jade.
“You’re related to me, aren’t you, Feiyu?” Biyu had asked him once. “Are you my uncle? A cousin?”
He’d glanced at her quietly, and she’d felt like the world shifted around them both.
“I saw your royal mark.” She’d pulled her wide, billowy sleeve, revealing the snake and moon tattooed into her flesh with magic. “We bear the same family sigil. You are a MuRong.”
He had remained silent for a while. Jade had been running in the winding paths of the gardens, jumping and trying to catch a butterfly.
The tree branches, heavy with cherry blossoms, had swayed with the winds.
And finally, Feiyu had turned to her. He was wearing a deep, dark blue mask this time, and his eyes had appeared like two pools of darkness.
“You cannot reveal that information to anyone,” he had said.
She had only nodded. He was wearing a mask for a reason and it was clear that he was keeping his MuRong identity secret too.
If Drakkon Muyang found out, he would execute him, plain and simple.
There was no way His Majesty would let such a powerful MuRong like Feiyu live and threaten his reign.
He must have not known. Feiyu must have been up to something; a plan, maybe, to escape.
“You’re related to me, right?” she’d asked again.
She’d needed to know that she had family here.
She hadn’t known her father all that well and had rarely interacted with him; the only times she had, he had either ignored her or glared at her like she was a nuisance.
She’d also been cut off from the rest of her siblings, all of whom were either like her and hadn’t had enough power to do as they liked, or who’d had power and treated her like she was nothing, simply because of her mother’s rank.
She wanted Feiyu to be her family—she needed him.
He’d sighed, long and hard. “Princess, you must never tell a soul this.”
Biyu had only nodded enthusiastically. She wouldn’t tell anyone his secrets—whatever they were—because he was her only friend, her only ally, in this wretched place.
“Your father was my older brother,” he’d said quietly.
She’d inhaled sharply. Feiyu was her uncle, then, and a prince.
He could take the throne; hope swelled within her.
He was a MuRong and in terms of succession, he had more right to the throne than her half-brothers did.
If he was on the throne, she could have a life again.
If he was the emperor, he could make everyone who had wronged their family die horrible deaths.
“Do you know why I call you Serpent Princess?”
It was a moniker he had begun using ever since they walked in the gardens. It was like a term of endearment, but she hadn’t realized it had more meaning than simply being a nickname. She thought it had to do with the serpent and moon mark of the MuRong family.
She canted her head. “Why?”
“Your father used to call me Serpent Prince. As a reminder of my nature.”
Goosebumps had risen along her flesh at the implication. “Do you think I’m …” A serpent? Two faced? Treacherous? The words had stung more than she liked to admit.
He hadn’t looked at her, instead choosing to stare at the swaying trees. “Your father was an evil man.”
“But he was your brother.” The conversation was making her uncomfortable and she’d hated the pit that was opening up in her stomach, widening into a chasm of darkness and uncertainty.
“A cruel, cruel man. Especially to his own flesh and blood,” he’d continued.
“I … I’m sorry …” She hadn’t known what to say, but she hadn’t wanted to be there anymore. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him anymore.
“And I …” His harsh tone had cut through her thoughts.
She’d turned to him expectantly and shivered again.
His eyes had been darker than she had ever seen them before. “And I killed him.”
Biyu awoke from her dreamless slumber at a soft touch on her shoulder.
Instantly, her body reacted. She lurched up in bed, sleep vanishing even as her eyes blearily scanned her surroundings.
From beneath her pillow, she yanked out the small paring knife she had swiped from the maidservant who had served her sliced fruits in the evening.
Holding it in front of her defensively, she blinked rapidly to reorient herself, only to be met with her brother’s raised eyebrow and sheepish grin.
“Yat-sen?” She must have been dreaming, because there was no way her half-brother could be in her bedchambers right now.
Not when they weren’t allowed to leave their rooms, or when they both had guards watching their every move.
But the more she blinked at him, and glanced around herself, she realized she wasn’t dreaming. He really was there.