Chapter 16
Purple flames danced in the air, growing hotter and fanning higher.
They burst from within her, scorching the hairs on her arms. Her magic was pulled out of her violently, the flames tearing through her hands.
The smell of burning flesh and cloth filled the air.
A scream ripped from Biyu’s throat. It was too hot.
It was too overpowering. She had no control, and slowly, the corners of her vision blackened. It was all too much.
Biyu awoke with a start. Her heart raced erratically and she was drenched in sweat.
The ceiling of her bed frame greeted her and she stared at it unblinkingly, her breaths wrenching from her unevenly.
She could still see the violent maelstrom of violet flames and a shiver rattled down her spine at the thought of being caught up in it like in her dream.
She had always loved playing with her fire when she was younger, but those flames from her nightmare were dangerous, intense, and all encompassing—nothing like the peaceful little flickers of fire that she could make dance on her fingertips. It terrified her down to her bones.
She pushed herself into a sitting position and grimaced at the feel of her dress sticking to her sweaty flesh—beneath her breasts, between her thighs, and her underarms in particular.
She needed a bath, desperately, but that would have to wait until the evening.
She pushed back strands of hair that were plastered on her neck and forehead.
She was in her bedchambers and was, surprisingly, alone once more.
Nikator hadn’t entered even once—at least, not that she was aware of.
She wasn’t even sure what to think of that.
She had wanted to be free of him, so she should have been elated at this small freedom, and yet another part of her had grown used to his scowls, his eye rolls, and his bored presence by her side.
She had almost felt … protected. And that was such a strange, strange notion, all things considered.
Her feelings were a jumbled, conflicting mess.
On one hand, he was her sworn enemy, had murdered her family members, had helped usurp the throne and lose all her power.
He was vicious, mean, and trained to kill.
But then on the other side of things, he had never forced himself on her and she got the feeling that he would never do something like that.
But she was stupid for even thinking something like that. Was the bar that low? She was so unused to people at this point, so lonely, so cut off, that a violent man like him, who had threatened her multiple times, stirred unwanted desires from her?
Biyu must have been going crazy. Truly.
Peeling the thin covers off her slick body, she slid off her bed and headed for her wardrobe.
Normally, Lin would wake her up and get her dressed for the day, and Biyu would eat breakfast, but ever since Nikator had become her guard, she had to do everything herself.
He sent the servants away unless they were there to help with a task she couldn’t do herself—like bring her food or her bath.
He was probably still suspicious that she would pass a note to Lin, or speak conspiratorially with her or the others, or … something.
After she wiped herself down with a wet cloth to rid herself of the sweat, she applied perfumed creams and oils on her body, then washed up and dressed until she was presentable.
She threw open the window shutters to let in the summer air and the morning light.
She had just pulled her bench from beside the window sill toward the vanity when there was a knock on her door.
She eased onto the seat, waiting for it to swing open and whoever to barrel inside. But there was a pause.
Her eyebrows knitted together. “Yes?”
“I’m coming in,” came Nikator gruff voice.
He entered the chambers, dressed head to toe in foreign-looking black leathers.
Fitted pants, leather armor, black and metal straps with gleaming weapons, and riding boots that looked like they were metal-toed.
The leathers stretched over his broad chest and his muscular arms bulged on the sleeves, almost seeming too tight and yet perfectly molding his powerful frame.
His deep red hair was gathered back behind his head, pulling more focus to the dark scowl he had perfected.
His eyes appeared even more vivid against the darkness he cloaked himself in.
He was garbed like he was going into battle. She lurched to her feet, hands clammy and throat closing up. Was he going to attack someone? Battle Yat-sen, maybe? Had he figured out everything and that was why he hadn’t been here last night?
Nikator softly shut the door behind himself. He raked a glance over her frame, pausing at the pale lavender dress she wore, and then up to her face. “You’re dressed to impress.”
“What?” Biyu blinked. He didn’t sound furious like she had expected him to be. He must have not known about Yat-sen and their plans. She tried to rein in her composure; she didn’t need him drawing more conclusions on her expressions alone. “I could say the same about you.”
It was his turn to look confused. “Me? I’m not—” He clamped his mouth shut, tilting his head to the side to examine her, and then she saw the moment something dawned on him.
It was like something clicking in place.
His confusion vanished. Mischief played on his face and a slow, knowing smile crept up his mouth.
“Ah. You’re the type that likes when a man is dressed in armor and leathers and fighting gear. Noted, princess.”
“I—” Heat clawed up her face and she gaped at him as he chuckled. She most certainly was not that type—
Her gaze traveled over his chest and how the leather hugged him snugly, at how it outlined his muscles, and then to his thighs … and her face flushed even more, because maybe he was right. He did look quite striking dressed like that.
Biyu pressed her lips together and tried her best to glare at him. “I didn’t mean that. I just couldn’t come up with something to say so I countered with whatever you said.”
“You’re tongue-tied around me?”
“Of course not!” She forcefully sat back down on her bench and turned to her collection of jewels, necklaces, hairpins, and her comb.
She began combing out the tangles from sleep.
Her cheeks were still warm and his soft laughter continued to darken her blush.
“We aren’t good friends for you to be laughing so hard at that or thinking thoughts other than hurting me, or whatever. ”
They weren’t friends. They were enemies.
Just yesterday he had been about to fling her to the emperor to her inevitable execution.
And just yesterday he had been absolutely furious with her for accidentally binding them both together in this cursed marriage.
How could he laugh so freely when it wasn’t that long ago that he’d wanted to kill her?
But she could say the same about herself. She had almost tried to kiss him despite all of that.
Stupid, stupid girl.
“You think … You think I want to hurt you? Or that I think about that?” Nikator’s voice lashed out angrily and so incredulously that it made her pause and glance over at him.
He wore that expression again—disgust. Like she had suggested something absolutely revolting.
Something so out of the realm of normal that he had to break away from his normal stoic expression or scowls.
Biyu lowered the bejeweled comb, the sunlight glinting off the purple stones embedded on the spine of it.
Her chest constricted at the look he gave her.
Disbelief, maybe? She couldn’t understand why.
“You’re … a monster,” she finally said when she couldn’t bear the loud silence between them. “Why wouldn’t I think that of you?”
He looked like she had slapped him. He reeled back, blinking, and then he scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me? You blasted me with a spell, sliced my arms to ribbons, and you bound me to a cursed bond with you, and not once have I retaliated.”
“Just because you’re not abusing me right now doesn’t mean you wouldn’t do it later.
” Biyu didn’t understand the heat in his words, nor his sudden rage.
He was a trained killer and they both had history with one another—a very unpleasant one.
“You know what you’ve done in the past! Just look at the way you carved up those guards not even that long ago!
You tortured them, brutalized their corpses, and displayed your violence for everyone to see.
Someone who’s capable of that is more than capable of hurting me, or wanting to hurt me. ”
“Let me make this very clear, since you don’t seem to understand”— she could tell he tried to keep his voice flat and neutral; it was belied by something darker, something that just barely peeked out from his carefully selected words.
Like he was trying not to terrify her, but was failing.
“When I dream of you, I don’t think about hurting you, Princess Biyu.
And when I’m with you, not once have I wanted to hurt you. ”
An unexpected warmth bloomed in her chest, but she tamped it down. She didn’t want any more confusion, and she certainly didn’t want to think anything positive about him. He was still a monster. A horrible, cruel beast who would lie if he needed to.
“What about when you put your dagger to my throat? I bled a little bit! Are you telling me you didn’t mean to do that?”
“I was trying to get you to stop doing whatever you were planning,” he snapped. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“But you did!”
“I di—”
“I can’t trust anything you say to me when you pin me against the wall and put a knife to my throat. You want me to fear you. I see it in the way you look at me! It’s not a stretch to say you want to hurt me—”
“I don’t want to hurt you!” he snarled, his hands fisting together. “Why the hell would I want that?”