Chapter 12 #2
Biyu jumped, her wide eyes jerking over to where he was standing at the threshold of her room, his hand on the handle and his eyes trained on the scroll in her hand.
“I—I—” She couldn’t think of an excuse, her hands turning slack as his eyes narrowed at the scroll. He wasn’t supposed to find out like this. She hadn’t mentally prepared to lie or cast a spell right now. She hadn’t even heard him enter. Why was he here? Why?
She backed away, her body trembling as he stalked toward her. His tone dropped, a snarl escaping his lips. “What is that, princess?”
He made to snatch it out of her hands, but she lurched backward, hiding the scroll behind her back. She bunched the unfolded parchment in her hands and tried to make it small as she stumbled backward. Nikator grabbed her wrist at the same time, his expression carved with fury.
“What are you hiding? I knew you were up to something—”
Biyu didn’t think. She couldn’t, so she did the only thing she could do:
She thrust her magic at him, envisioning a bond between them like the scroll had suggested, and prayed that he would forget whatever she had been doing.
Time slowed. The ring scorched her finger enough for her to cry out, just as a blast of magic erupted from her chest and slammed straight into his.
He released his hold on her, eyes widening, right before they both were flung in opposite directions.
Biyu yelped as she crashed against her tea table, the edge of it banging into her back painfully while Nikator fell against her large beveled mirror.
Glass shattered, splintering everywhere with large shards slicing down his arms and legs.
He hissed a string of foreign words while Biyu shuddered on the floor, heat spasming over her chest, coiling in her belly and over her heart.
“What have you done?” Nikator snarled.
Biyu stared at him, horror seeping into every fiber of her being. Thick blood coated his arms and speckled her polished floors. His eyes spelled danger, but it was the fact that he knew exactly who she was that … that made her realize the spell had failed.
Terror seized her and she whimpered when he shot her a deadly glare. Her back hit the edge of the table again, but she barely felt the ache. Her legs trembled and she couldn’t stand—could barely breathe.
He was going to kill her.
She had hurt him, badly, and she had used magic against him. Magic that she wasn’t even supposed to have. If he didn’t kill her, the emperor certainly would.
She had failed, horribly, and now she was going to die for it.
Why couldn’t she have been patient and waited for Nikator to lose interest in guarding her?
Why did she have to be impatient and arrogant enough to think that she could pull off tricking him?
She had grown accustomed to him and had lost the edge of fear that had kept her in line, and this was the result.
“What was that?” he asked again, brushing away the glittering, broken pieces of the mirror off his lap.
He slowly unwound from his position and grasped a giant shard that was sticking out of his shoulder, and yanked it out effortlessly—without even flinching.
He dropped it on the floor, blood dripping down his fingers.
She was shaking so badly now that her teeth chattered and she couldn’t form any words.
All she could see, hear, and feel was Nikator’s fury.
Her breathing came in a rapid, shallow succession.
This couldn’t be happening. How had she failed the spell?
She had done exactly what the spell had told her to do, so why had it failed?
“Princess,” Nikator growled, the glass bits crunching beneath his boots as he drew closer. Each step sent an ominous chill down her spine, freezing her to her core. “What have you done? Answer me.”
She broke out into a sob, scooting further away. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“How did you use magic? What did you hit me with?” He kneeled in front of her while she tried to move further from him, but he grasped her shoulders and held tightly. “Answer me.”
“I don’t know!”
“You don’t know? I find that hard to believe when you threw me across the room,” he snapped. “Now tell me what the fuck you just did. How did you use magic?”
“I-I—” She swallowed down the rising panic, the horror, the fear that curdled her stomach and made her want to vomit all over him.
She quivered badly as she raised her hand to stare at the ring.
Her breath hitched as she noticed the blue magic stone had lost all its color and was now clear.
The magic inside of it had run out—from that single spell.
Nikator grasped her hand, smearing blood over her pale fingers as he gently turned it over to examine the ring. His eyes narrowed to slits and rage consumed his features, belying his careful touch. “A magic stone,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm. “How did you get this?”
She could only stare at him. She needed to lie, but she couldn’t think of anything.
“Princess Biyu.” A muscle on his jaw clenched. “What did you do?”
“I-I—” Nausea built inside of her. She was going to die. He was going to tell the emperor. Then she would be executed just like those three torso corpses. Her head would be severed from her body, her limbs would be hacked off, her naked body would be put on display—
Nikator released her with a growl, cursing as he reached forward.
She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blow to come, but it never did.
When she peeled her eyes open, he was grabbing something behind her, his chest brushing over the side of her face.
She reeled back, trembling the entire time until he held the crumpled spell she had used.
He rose up to his feet and rolled out the entire scroll. The more he read, the more confused his expression became, and when he finally looked at her, only wild bewilderment remained. Biyu pressed her trembling lips together. Was it that strange that she had wanted him to forget all about her?
Nikator rolled up the scroll and held it up.
“Either my Huo reading skills are absolute shit, or you must have lost your fucking mind, because why—” He lowered it, his voice dropping and more confusion marring his face—that, and something else, something she couldn’t pinpoint.
“Why did you do this? Why did you … why would you …”
Tears filled her eyes and she choked back another cry. “Because I wanted to be free! Th-that’s why!”
“By marrying me? How the fuck does that even work?”
Marrying him? What was he talking about?
Biyu stared at him, dumfounded.
“Why would marrying me be the solution to your problem? How—how does that even work?” Nikator looked down at her like he was seeing her for the first time, and she saw what she could only describe as revulsion on his face.
That or pity, or a mixture of both. She couldn’t decipher it.
She shuddered beneath his glare. “I don’t know what your intentions were, but I must inform His Majesty.
You’ve been plotting something and I don’t know how marriage fits into this, but you’ve committed treason.
You’re not supposed to use magic and you somehow have that ring—”
“No, no, no!” She hauled herself to her feet by grabbing the table by her side.
Her head swam with information. Marriage.
His Majesty. The mage towers. “You—you’ve got it all wrong.
I don’t— Why would I want to marry you? And I’m not planning— I don’t— What?
What are you even saying—” She placed a shaking hand on the side of her pale, bloodless face; she felt lightheaded.
She must have been dreaming. “I don’t want to marry you. ”
His expression twisted for a moment before he shifted away from her until his back was facing her, exhaled deeply and seemed to try to rein in his emotions by the way he was clenching and unclenching his fists.
Biyu’s lower lip trembled and more sobs broke from her.
She was going to die now. If he didn’t kill her, then Drakkon Muyang certainly would. How could she have been so stupid?
“N-Nikator—” she started, desperate. “Please—”
“Come with me,” he gritted out.
“No! Please, no! Anything—anything but that. Please!” Biyu backed away from him and searched for an exit—she knew that running was futile, but her fight or flight kicked in and she had to run, fast, and far.
Nikator closed the distance in two strides and snatched her wrist. His furious eyes burned like deep-blue flames and his warm breath brushed over her wet cheeks. “You don’t have a choice, princess. You come with me, or I drag you, kicking, screaming, and all. Do you understand?”
Biyu hiccupped and buried her face in her free hand.
Her shoulders shook with each sob, and he tightened his hold on her wrist, dragging her toward the exit.
Her feet moved on their own, her cries falling on deaf ears as they entered the hallway.
She kept her face low, her trembling hand covering half her face.
She didn’t want anyone to look at her. She couldn’t stand the looks they would inevitably wear—the pity at her crying face, the disgust at realizing her treason, the humor at seeing her humiliated.
It wasn’t just the nobles who would wear those masks, those expressions—it was the maidservants, the passing officials, the mages, the gardeners, the merchants. Everyone would look at her like that.
They finally stopped walking when they reached one of the corridors in the inner palace; guards swarmed each exit, and Biyu’s entire body rattled with fear.
She hadn’t been here in years. Even back when her father reigned, she hadn’t been allowed in these halls unless he had summoned her.
The emperor was somewhere here. She could tell.
Could practically feel his energy oozing into every inch of the place.
The ominous, heavy feel of his oppressive magic made her want to throw up.
Nikator was unfazed by it. He stopped in front of one of the double doors. “Is His Majesty inside?"
“He’s in a war council meeting,” the guard responded, staring pointedly at the slashes and drying blood coating Nikator’s arms. “We’ve been given strict orders to not disturb him.”
He cursed softly. “How long ago did it start?”
“Half an hour.”
“So we still have a few hours to go?”
The guard only nodded.
Nikator cursed again, pulling her to the side of the hall.
He didn’t let go of her hand, and there was a murderous glint in his eyes as rage danced over his normally shuttered features.
Biyu couldn’t even relax, because not meeting with the emperor only prolonged her anxiety about her fate.
There was no way he would let her live after finding out that she had discovered a way to use magic and subvert the wards.
He would scour every room of the palace for any hint of someone helping her, colluding with her, and plotting something sinister.
Yat-sen would be discovered. And likely everyone who sided with him.
The emperor would purge any and all spies and traitors from the palace. She had likely doomed everyone.
“Please, Nikator,” she whispered, hating how she was trying to appeal to the monster. “I didn’t mean—”
The glare he gave her made her shrink within herself.
The muscles along his jaw tightened. “You’re a liar.
I’ve known since day one that you’ve been up to no good.
That was the whole reason I even decided to shadow your every move.
I knew you would slip up eventually. I just hoped you wouldn’t fuck things up too badly.
Do you even realize what will happen to you now? ”
“You don’t have to tell him,” she begged quietly. “Please—”
“I am not your friend, nor your ally,” he snapped. “I am loyal to His Majesty, and His Majesty alone.”
It was useless to try to appeal to his humanity, or lack thereof, but she had hoped, had prayed, that he would show mercy.
That he wouldn’t be as much of a monster as her memory reminded her.
Maybe the week or so they had spent together had made her think he wasn’t as vicious as he actually was.
Maybe because he had stayed silent, watched her, and hadn’t touched her or hurt her in any way, she had gotten the sense that he wasn’t that bad.
And yet she should have remembered who he really was.
A trained killer for Drakkon Muyang.
She thought of the night the throne was usurped. Her family’s blood on his sword. The blood splatters on his clothes. The coldness in his eyes. The indifference. The cruelty.
“Damn it. Stop that!” Nikator ground out, grasping the front of his chest with a blood-speckled hand and breathing out through his nose, as if it was too hard to breathe properly.
When the wave seemed to have passed, he turned to her sharply like she had done something, but she only stared back blankly. “What are you doing to me?”
She blinked at him.
“Damn it. Forget it.”
They stood in silence for a few moments after that. Biyu silently sniffled and tried to keep her weeping in check, while Nikator was still as a statue, his muscles flexing like he was in pain, or like was physically clawing beneath his skin.
“Nikator, what are you doing here?”
Biyu snapped her head up to find two Peccata members, Vita and Minos, a few paces away from them.
She didn’t know much about the two and had never actually spoken to either.
From what she had heard, Vita was rather cold and distant, a woman of few words.
Minos, on the other hand, was charming and laidback.
Vita and Minos both gave Nikator a once over, pausing at the cuts and gashes along his body, and then staring pointedly at his hand clasped on Biyu’s wrist.
“What happened to you?” Minos asked, a dark eyebrow notching up. He said something in a foreign tongue, his gaze lingering on Biyu, and then at the scroll in his hand. His tone sounded … mocking, almost. Or jovial. She couldn’t tell completely, since she was missing the context.
Nikator’s face twisted and he snarled, “Fuck off.”
Minos only grinned wider. “Come on! What’s got you looking like—”
Nikator growled back at him words that Biyu didn’t understand and Vita pursed her lips together.
They both appeared to bicker for a few moments in their native tongue, Nikator tense and furious, and Minos with a playful, dismissive tone.
Eventually, though, Minos’s smile faded and he glanced over at Biyu with renewed interest. Vita’s eyebrows shot up.
Likely, he was explaining what had happened.
Biyu stared at the floor, wishing a chasm would yawn open and swallow her whole.
At least that way she could avoid her eventual execution.
The torture. Yat-sen’s disappointment. She squeezed her eyes shut as the imagery of the headless torsos came to mind.
She was going to die.
She was really going to die.