Chapter 11
Biyu’s day went as insipidly as usual, this time with an annoying, terrifying warrior shadowing her every step.
For about an hour, she gazed out at the gardens and daydreamed as she usually did.
Then, she took another hour or so to languidly paint Jade, who ignored Nikator and lounged on the bed until she grew bored and left the chambers in a very typical, very grumpy-cat-like manner.
Then, she ate a midday meal, which Nikator joined her in; the maidservant who brought the meals didn’t even bat an eyelash as she set the two meals down on the tea table for them.
The entire time, Nikator didn’t say a word. He only watched her.
After that, she sat on her bench and stared at the gardens once more; normally, she would have taken a short nap at that point, but she couldn’t with him in the same room.
She could tell he was growing bored and restless by the way he stared up at the ceiling, tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest of the couch, and glared at her from time to time—as if she was purposefully wasting his time.
After silently eating dinner with him, Biyu stretched her legs and practiced calligraphy for another hour.
Until, finally, it was time for her bath.
The maidservants, right on time, knocked on her door and brought in a large, round wooden tub.
More servants entered carrying buckets of steaming water, which they poured in the bathtub.
Most of them cast furtive, curious looks at Nikator, but none of them questioned anything.
When they left, Biyu wrung her hands together and glanced at the door, then back at him.
He had risen from his position and was now stretching his long legs and arms; she couldn’t rip her gaze away from the corded muscles along his impressive frame until he caught her staring.
A slow, knowing grin stretched on his face.
Biyu cleared her throat. “Will you give me privacy to bathe, or will you continue watching me?”
“I can watch if you’d prefer.”
“I won’t even dignify that with a response,” she seethed.
A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest and he stifled a yawn with another stretch. “Fifteen minutes. That’s all I’m giving you.”
“That’s not enough time—”
“That’s plenty of time for you to bathe.” He left no room for conversation as he headed to the exit, gave her an inquisitive, clinical stare from head to toe—assessing how much damage she could do in that short amount of time, maybe—and then left the room.
Biyu waited a minute for him to burst back inside, but when he didn’t, she rushed over to where the two scrolls were tucked under the mattress.
She yanked them out and quickly unrolled the first one, her hands trembling so bad she dropped the second one on the floor.
She inhaled sharply and glanced backward, but he didn’t enter. She scanned the scroll quickly.
Her eyes glazed over the introductory paragraphs, all of which held some sort of philosophy on magic and the extensive history of discovering a certain spell—she didn’t understand half of it and didn’t have time to decipher it.
She continued unraveling the scroll, looking over her shoulder, and scanning the contents.
She blinked when she reached the middle of the scroll, where the spell’s purpose was written. Forgetfulness.
Her fingers shook. That was … perfect for what she needed.
She could make Nikator forget this whole idea of following her around, having his suspicions, and everything relating to her.
If she could make him forget about her altogether, then she could get rid of him.
Hope and relief bloomed in her chest so intently that she wanted to cry; the backs of her eyes burned and she hastily rolled the scroll up.
She would have to read and learn how to use the spell as soon as possible.
A knock sounded on the door. “I don’t hear you in the water. What are you doing in there?”
Biyu jumped, dropping the scroll on the floor. She bent down and picked them both up, wincing as pain shot through her injured, bruised knee. Her pulse quickened as a lie flowed from her. “I’m just looking for what to wear after my bath! Stop breathing down my neck.”
Nikator didn’t respond.
She jammed the two scrolls back in their place and hurried to the tub.
Excitement and fear made her giddy. If she could make Nikator forget everything about her, then she could move freely—without any guards!
Maybe it would get in the way of her weekly garden strolls with Liqin, but maybe she could just …
not go to them? She doubted anyone would notice or care.
Liqin would probably be more than happy not to be in her presence.
Biyu stripped her clothes and left them in a pile on the floor, kicking them away from the tub so as not to accidentally slosh water on them, and slipped inside the bathtub.
The instant the hot water touched her skin, a soft moan escaped from her and she sank into the warm depths, her eyes closing as the heat curled over her.
She would have loved to lie there until the water grew tepid, then cold.
Her daily evening bath was her favorite time to unwind, relax, and simply exist without worrying about anything.
But with the threat of Nikator barging inside at any given minute, she begrudgingly began washing her body with soap made with mung bean powder, honey, and a variety of herbs and flowers that gave it a gentle, floral scent.
She dunked it under water until it became a cakey paste and then began scrubbing it over her body and hair, then submerged her head under the surface to cleanse it off.
She had just finished washing her body when there was another impatient knock. “That’s enough now. You’ve been in there for more than fifteen minutes.”
“That’s not possible,” she said. “I—”
“Do you want me to enter?”
She cursed under her breath and rose from the water. It cascaded over her body loudly and she wrung it out from her hair. “Fine! Just give me a few minutes to dry off.”
Stepping out of the tub, she unfolded the towel and rubbed it down her body.
Droplets of water dripped onto the floor as she hastily tried to dry herself off.
She kept one eye on the door the entire time, praying that Nikator didn’t choose now of all times to come inside and declare that she was taking too long.
When the towel brushed over her knee, she hissed and turned her attention to the injury; the bruises had worsened, becoming a deep, inky purple color.
Nikator knocked again. “I’m coming in.”
“W-wait! I’m not dressed!” She wrapped the towel over her body, tucking her arms over it to keep it from falling as she waddled over to her wardrobe.
She hesitated at the long line of dresses filed within.
If Nikator was planning on watching her through the night, then she couldn’t wear her night robe—which was a simple under-dress she wore beneath all of her clothes.
She pulled on her inner clothing and then hesitated over which dress to wear on top.
When he knocked again, more impatiently than before, she picked the first one to her left and began dressing.
She had just tied the sash around her midsection when he shoved the door open and entered.
She turned to him sharply, heart racing as he scoured the area with a pointed scowl.
“Well, aren’t you impatient,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “What do you think I’m doing in here? Planning my escape?”
“What took you so long?” He crossed over to one of the tables, where her calligraphy was currently drying. He picked up one of the pages and scanned it, then glanced at the rest.
Did he think she had written a secret message?
“I was bathing,” she answered, heading over to the bench by the window.
The servants had closed the shutters when they had come with the bathtub and had lit the oil lamps, casting dim, orange light around the room.
She pulled the bench to her vanity and sat on it.
She tried to act as naturally as possible, even though her insides were quaking with every strained breath.
“I’m going to ignore the fact that it’s highly improper for you to be in this room right now, especially now that I’ve finished bathing, while my hair isn’t even dry.
But I think it’s rude for you to suggest I was doing anything other than bathing.
Do you really think fifteen minutes is enough time for a woman to cleanse herself of all the filth from the day?
” She detangled her hair with the wide-toothed comb, clucking her tongue as the words continued to pour.
“I barely even got to wash my hair! Or apply any oils on my skin!”
“You’re rather spoiled for a prisoner.” He released the parchment and let it drop on the table. He went to the other side of her chambers and squinted at the bowls of fruit the servants had left for her earlier that day.
“Do you think I wrote a secret note on a piece of fruit?” She snorted, imagining herself carving a cryptic message to Yat-sen on an apple. With her luck, she could imagine Yat-sen eating the fruit before even realizing there was a message. The thought alone made her giggle.
Nikator growled a response in a language she didn’t understand.
She blinked at him through the reflection in her handheld mirror while he continued examining every piece of furniture.
Her heart rate picked up in pace when he peeled back the blankets atop her bed.
She needed to distract him. Something to get him away from her bed. Anything—
She shifted on her bench, about to ask him something, when her knee inadvertently bumped the leg of the vanity.
“Ow!” Her hand flew to her throbbing knee. A wave of pain shot through the injury and she cursed her clumsy movement.
“What’s wrong?” Nikator released her pillow, letting it flop back on the mattress, and moved nearer to her, his movements lithe and dangerous. His eyes were alert as he scanned her from head to toe, pausing at where she was rubbing her aching knee.
Biyu winced and tried rubbing her knee to stave off the pain, but even a small touch made it more tender, more painful. “I-I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. Did you hurt it yesterday when you fell?”
“From when I fell? I distinctly remember you falling too.”
“I didn’t fall. I did, however, dive forward to save you.
” There was an unexpected, sarcastic edge to his words, almost like he forgot he was talking to her.
“Along with saving your sorry ass, I was also testing the structural integrity of the ledge. I’m a trained warrior, and warriors don’t fall from fucking ledges. ”
It was probably the pain masking her true feelings, or making her delirious, but she laughed—she actually laughed.
It was so unexpected, so out of character that it only made her laugh harder.
The entire time, Nikator was staring at her like she had grown two heads.
And maybe she had—because he wasn’t even that funny.
He was a murderer. A trained killer for the emperor. Ruthless. Horrible. Lethal.
She wiped her eyes. “You’re—you’re not funny. At all. Ever. I just—I just thought of something else.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s what that was.”
“Exactly.”
For a moment they both stared at each other, unmoving, unsure of how to proceed, but then came a soft knock and Lin, the old maidservant who usually tended to her, poked her head in. “Princess—Ah, apologies. I didn’t know you had …” She eyed Nikator in disbelief. “Company?”
“Lin.” Biyu stood up straight, the comb clattering to the floor. She could feel her face warming up a few shades; they must have looked like lovers. Her bathwater was still warm, her hair was wet, and he … he was standing in the middle of the room like he fit in so perfectly.
“He’s—” She waited for Nikator to explain himself, but he simply scrutinized the old maidservant with cold, calculating indifference. She cleared her throat. “He’s my new guard.”
“Oh. Okay …” She nodded, and then pointed to the bathtub. “We were just going to collect the tub. Do you …” She stared at Nikator, but flinched away from the look he gave. “Do you wish for us to come at a different time?”
“No, no.” Biyu waved for her to enter. “Now is perfect.”
More servants filled the room, these ones a bit more apprehensive of Nikator, and they quickly collected the tub and exited. Lin hesitated at the threshold. “Good night, Princess Biyu.”
“Good night.”
When she left, whatever amicable mood had been brewing between Biyu and Nikator dissipated like it had never been there, because it truly didn’t belong.
Tension filled the air and she went back to combing her hair, while Nikator made his way to the couch and fell on it.
At least that had distracted him enough to stop looking at her bed.
Even if it pained her and … made her laugh at something that wasn’t funny.
“Are you really planning on watching me … all night?” Biyu’s hands shook and she rested the comb where the rest of her jewelry was messily strewn about.
She twisted the magic stone ring Yat-sen had given her, the reassuring thrum of magic somehow calming her buzzing nerves.
“Don’t you need to sleep, too? You look like you haven’t slept all night. ”
“I don’t trust you.”
Biyu frowned. “But is that enough to make you watch me all night long? That’s … that’s unheard of!”
“Would you rather be in the dungeons? Where you piss in a bucket in front of the guards? Where you can only bathe yourself with a dirty rag? Where you get thin rice gruel for breakfast and dinner?” He folded his arms over his chest and even with the darkness of his clothes, and the dim lighting, she could make out the outline of his bulging muscles—particularly his forearms and biceps. She forced herself to look away.
“Fine,” she gritted out. “Do as you please.”
She couldn’t talk her way out of this, not that she was much of a talker.
She wasn’t like Liqin, who could manipulate her words and use her feminine charms to her advantage.
Nor was she as intelligent as Yat-sen to come up with a complicated plan to thwart her enemies.
She was just plain Biyu, and if Nikator said he was going to watch her all night, she had no choice but to bob her head and go along with it.