Chapter 17
Biyu had walked to the gardens several times, but it had never felt more like she was walking to her death than it did in that moment.
She didn’t even know how her weak, wobbly legs even carried her out there.
The sticky summer air skimmed across her cheeks and her neck; she shivered despite the warmth radiating from the cloudless sky.
Nikator shadowed her as they walked the twisted paths to the southern gardens; she hadn’t been allowed there in years, but she barely noticed the swaying cherry blossom trees nor the fragrant, blossoming jasmines or roses or chrysanthemums.
Biyu knew the emperor was nearby because of the ominous, heavy presence of his magic.
It stifled her, draining her willpower with every heavy step forward.
All of her instincts told her to run, and yet Nikator’s presence beside her halted her from those drastic measures.
If she ran, he would catch her. And then she’d be in even more trouble.
Making the emperor wait could, in some cases, result in an execution.
They passed by a small pond she used to jump in when she was a young girl running from her servants.
And then they reached their destination: a giant octagonal pergola beside the body of water.
Guards stood outside of it while half a dozen guests were inside, lounging on couches and dripping in silks, gold, and gems. She recognized a few of the nobles speaking to one another, but she couldn’t remember their names.
Drakkon Muyang sat on one of the couches.
He was dressed in his royal regalia; a glimmering hair crown that reflected the sunlight despite the roofed building, and deep red and black robes that made him appear more striking, more terrifying.
The sunlight played across the scars on his jaw and eyebrows.
His wife, Daiyu, sat beside him, chattering happily to another woman adjacent to her.
Her skin was flushed and glowing, her grin wide and cheery—pregnancy was becoming on her.
The emperor stared at her the entire time, his expression … thoughtful. Soft, even.
Her steps slowed. She had never thought he could wear such a look. Was he perhaps … actually in love with her? The notion was absolutely absurd. Drakkon Muyang was a man incapable of loving anyone but himself.
“Your Majesties,” Biyu said when she reached a few feet away from him. She dropped down to her knees, her hands pressing on the clean wooden floor. She kept her head lowered; she felt Nikator drop down to a bow as well, though his was not as low as hers.
“You may rise.” The emperor’s voice was velvety, calm, and it invoked a deep terror within her.
Biyu rose to her feet tentatively. She didn’t meet his gaze as she stared at her feet.
“Princess Biyu, so nice to meet you again.” Daiyu smiled warmly at her, her brown eyes soft. She motioned to the tables with tea and then to the empty seats. “Please, have some tea and snacks. This weather is so scorching, isn’t it? Some tea can offer some respite, I hope.”
Daiyu waved another hand at the three low tables in front of the couches.
They brimmed with light food. Baskets of steamed dumplings, rolls, and buns.
A tray full of an assortment of nuts, dried plums, and sliced fruit.
Mooncakes, sweet glutinous rice flour balls coated in sesame seeds and bursting with sweet red bean paste, and rice cakes.
Although the spread looked delicious, Biyu had no appetite for tea or snacks.
“Please, have something to eat,” Daiyu offered.
“Ah, thank you.” Biyu tried to return her smile, but she was sure it came out strained.
She licked her lips and spared a glance at Muyang, only to find him staring at her with a peculiar expression. Intrigue, maybe? A jolt of fear zapped through her being and she quickly averted her attention to the silk shoes poking out beneath her lavender skirts.
“I was surprised to learn from Bohai that you decided to becoming Princess Biyu’s guard,” Muyang said, and it took her a moment to realize he was speaking to Nikator, whose scowl broke away to a grin.
“You know me, always up for a challenge.” Sarcasm touched his words.
The emperor chuckled.
It took everything in Biyu not to gape at both of them. She had never seen Drakkon Muyang laugh normally—she was more accustomed to cruel laughter, or a deranged half-laugh before he said something wicked.
She shuffled on her feet; although Daiyu had told her she could take a seat, since the emperor had summoned her here, she couldn’t leave without him first dismissing her or telling her to sit somewhere. She noticed the curious stares sent her way and she tried her best to ignore them.
There were six people beside the emperor and empress who were present.
Two women whom she vaguely recognized but couldn’t put a name to.
General Han, who stuffed three sesame balls in his mouth while his wife, the vicious and beautiful Lady Mingxia, known for being cunning and sharp, hid her laughter behind a ruby-encrusted hand fan.
Then there was Minos, who winked at her, and then another man she didn’t recognize.
“Princess Biyu,” Muyang’s voice rang louder, halting all other conversations. Everyone shifted to turn their full attention on them.
Sweat trickled down her back and the summer heat aided in her discomfort. “Y-yes, Your Majesty?”
“I called you here for an important matter. I had a similar conversation with your sister earlier today, and she seemed to take the news well.” He picked up his cup of tea and took a sip of it.
The small break increased her apprehension and she wanted him to finish talking already, to let her know exactly what he had planned for her, because he wouldn’t have called her out here for nothing.
But she couldn’t rush the emperor, so she bunched her hands over her skirt and waited.
Finally, he continued, “Do you know Lord Jian from the Wu family?”
She tried to wrack her mind on who he was, but her anxiety spread like a fog settling in her memories.
The more the emperor stared, the more blank her mind became.
Her throat constricted and she could feel more eyes training on her.
Analyzing her. Whispering about her incompetence.
How she could never remember anything in the heat of the moment, or whenever she was put on the spot.
But then Nikator placed a hand on the small of her back and leaned toward her ear, his breath tickling the side of her clammy neck. “Breathe. You’re fine,” he murmured quiet enough so only she could hear.
A tremor ran down her spine. His hand on her back felt warm, but just as quickly as he had placed it, he removed it and stepped away from her.
The departure of his body heat made her want to twist around and reach for him.
But she kept herself rooted, even as the warmth of his presence budded in the pit of her belly.
She was aware of the emperor’s curious eyes on her, and then at Nikator. Something flickered in those black, midnight eyes. Something she couldn’t read.
Now that her mind was clear, she thought of the question at hand.
The Wu family—she had heard of them.
The had defected from her father’s faction during the rebellion, choosing to side with Drakkon Muyang.
They were a rather small noble family, so she’d never paid much attention to them or their members, and neither had her father.
From what she remembered, most had been killed off, either by her father’s men or …
she wasn’t really sure. The war, perhaps?
“I apologize, I don’t know him.” Biyu licked her lips. Was this a test?
Muyang waved to the man beside Minos, who straightened in his seat. “Don’t be shy, Lord Jian. Introduce yourself.”
Lord Jian was a young man in his early to mid-twenties.
He was average in looks, a bit surly-looking, the type who would get in brawls with others, and he wasn’t necessarily lean or muscular, just average in build.
A giant cut slashed over his mouth to give him a perpetual sneer, and he had a mean look in his eyes that made her stiffen.
Although he smiled at her and the emperor, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was duplicitous.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Princess Biyu.” Jian placed a hand to his chest and lowered his head. “I’m Wu Jian, the head of the Wu family.”
An uncomfortable feeling swirled in her chest. “L-likewise.”
Muyang watched the interaction between the two of them with narrowed eyes; she could practically see the gears in his head turning, his sharp gaze flicking to Nikator, and then back to Biyu. The corner of his mouth lifted and Biyu braced herself for whatever he would say next.
“You deserve a life outside of chains, Princess Biyu,” he said. “Which is why I’ve arranged for you and Lord Jian to marry this upcoming autumn.”
The words echoed in her mind, but she couldn’t comprehend them.
It must have been a joke. A cruel hallucination.
A trick of her mind. But Jian continued to smile politely and the emperor stared at her expectantly.
Everyone seemed to hold their breath—she was supposed to thank him, to express gratitude for allowing such a thing. And yet she only gaped.
Marriage. To him?
All the air dissipated from her lungs. She found herself dropping to her knees, trembling hands pressing to the floor. She lowered her head, but no matter how much she tried to formulate her gratitude, the words were stuck in her throat.
“Th-thank—” Her shoulders quivered and she couldn’t figure out why this news shook her down to her core.
The summer heat penetrated through the layers of clothes and stifled her more than a few seconds ago.
She was too hot. Too uncomfortable. And there were too many people, too many eyes, too much that was expected from her.
“Thank you,” she finally wheezed out. “I am so ha-happy to hear that.”