Chapter 17 #2
She didn’t lift her head even as one of the women prattled about how great an opportunity this was for her, since she wouldn’t be stuck in her bedchambers all day long for the rest of her life and how she could look forward to having children and a life outside of being a disgraced MuRong.
She could feel Drakkon Muyang’s scrutiny, but she didn’t dare move from her position. Finally, he spoke, “You may rise.”
Biyu jerked to her feet, darkness swimming in the edges of her vision from the blood rush.
She blinked and tried to compose herself, but she was failing.
This was a great opportunity for her, if she hadn’t already been plotting with Yat-sen to usurp the throne.
How was she going to do that if she was shipped away to the Wu estate?
But then her mind traveled to other possibilities.
Like the woman to Daiyu’s right had said, this was a chance for her to have a life outside of being a prisoner.
She could marry Jian, have children with him, go on strolls to the markets whenever she pleased, participate in festivals, and do whatever she wanted to. She would be free … to some extent.
“Princess Biyu, why don’t you sit with your fiancé and acquaint yourself with him?” Muyang said smoothly, his attention shifting to something beyond her shoulder. He lithely climbed to his full, impressive height and nodded at someone. “Minos, Nikator—a word.”
Minos stuffed half a rice cake in his mouth, the sticky red bean paste oozing from the corner of his lips, and straightened out of his seat, dusting the crumbs off his robes with his free hand. The spot next to Jian was now free.
Biyu watched from the corner of her eye as Minos clapped Nikator on the back and they both filed out of the pergola with the emperor.
This was probably her time to sit beside Jian and talk things through.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? Maybe he would give her freedom. Maybe they could have a future. Maybe—
But she was technically married to Nikator. Bound to him for life and death.
What did that mean if she married someone else? And what about her and Yat-sen’s plans? What would become of them?
“Princess Biyu?” Jian’s rough voice cut through the fog of confusion. He patted the spot beside him. “Sit with me.”
Every instinct screamed at her to run in the opposite direction. She didn’t know what it was about him that made her wary, but she didn’t want to sit with him. She didn’t want to discuss anything. She didn’t want him to be her fiancé.
Biyu sat down in Minos’s seat. Her body remained rigid as Jian piled snacks and sweets onto his plate.
Everyone else began their conversations once more; Daiyu beamed at the woman beside her and bobbed her head at whatever she was saying.
Lady Mingxia wiped the corner of her husband’s mouth with a silk handkerchief, a soft laugh tinkling from her.
The other women giggled over something. It felt surreal to be surrounded by happy people when she was shriveling up inside.
Jian popped a sugar-powdered almond in his mouth and ground it down. His dark eyes flashed over her. “I recently came back from a task a few days prior; a battle erupted amongst my forces and a pocket of rebellion down south. Ever been there before?”
She shook her head. Truthfully, she had never traveled anywhere outside of the capital.
“Ah. Shame. It’s warm down there and full of farmlands. The rebels turned out to be a splintered faction of loyalists from the Sun family.”
“I … I see.” Had he been successful and thus been granted a gift—her?
“Do you know any of them?”
“Who? The Sun family?” Discomfort prickled under her skin at the implication. “I have no alliance toward anyone, Lord Jian.”
His gaze narrowed in on her and the air seemed to chill. “Except His Majesty.”
She swallowed. “Y-yes, but that’s already implied.”
“Hm.” He munched on the rest of the honey-crusted and powdered nuts, his attention never straying from hers. “How many men have you fucked?”
Her eyes widened and she turned sharply to him. Had she heard him right? He continued to pop more almonds, cashews, and pine nuts into his mouth, as if he hadn’t asked anything inappropriate or rude. Nobody else seemed to notice, too engrossed in their own conversations.
Biyu’s hands wrapped over her knees to keep them still—from rage, this time. “I have never been with a man like that, and for you to insinuate—”
“Save that spiel for someone else.” Jian waved his free hand dismissively. “You’re lying if you say you’ve never been with anyone. You’ve been imprisoned for how many years now? Five? Of course you’ve gotten curious and slept around.”
“I haven’t—”
“Liar,” he said in a sing-song voice, then laughed. “Fine, fine. Play your stupid mind games. I know how women work.”
Heat bloomed over her cheeks. “You—”
“I live a few hours away from the capital. I was gifted a new estate after your father was killed—good riddance.” Another chuckle as he clapped his hands together and dispersed the powdered sugar from his fingers.
He reached for a cup of tea and took a slurp of it, humming.
“Oh, right. You have many jewels and dresses, right? Be sure to ask the emperor for more of them. I don’t want you coming to my estate dressed poorly.
You should bring your own clothes and accessories—whatever they may be.
I don’t want to pay for anything ridiculous, but I also need you presentable. You’re my war trophy, after all.”
He said the term like it was a joke, but she could tell he was being serious.
He was speaking so bluntly, not a care in the world for what she thought or what she wanted.
He didn’t need to be polite, since he knew he was getting a prisoner, essentially.
She had no respect in the palace, in the empire, so he didn’t need to put any effort in pretending to woo her or be nice to her.
“How much allowance does His Majesty give you every month?”
More heat clawed up her face. It was too embarrassing to admit that she didn’t receive any allowance—why should she? She was a prisoner. Sure, the emperor gave her new dresses on a monthly basis, but that was only to upkeep her position as a princess.
“That—that really isn’t any of your concern,” she managed to say.
“Oh?” He licked the sugar off his fingers.
“Yes, it is. If I’m to be your fiancé, I’m allowed insight into these things.
Any allowances, gifts, or possessions you have are, under law, mine as well.
I’ll be in charge of any assets you may have, so I have a right to know everything.
”He was already talking finances when they were supposed to get to know one another.
Her discomfort grew and she could already see a flicker of their future together.
She would constantly be under his thumb.
Anywhere she went, she would have to be careful of her every move.
She wouldn’t be able to spend any of his money.
She wouldn’t be able to have anything that belonged solely to herself. He would control everything.
Biyu clutched her hands together, then fidgeted with her sleeve, then fingered her necklace—anything to stop the torrent of emotions rushing over her.
She needed to get out of here.
The exit was wide, open, and guarded, but she couldn’t simply leave without His Majesty’s dismissal.
She could see him dozens of feet away from the pergola beneath the shade of a set of cherry blossom trees.
The three of them—Minos, Nikator, and Drakkon Muyang—conversed with one another.
Her stomach twisted. Were they discussing the marriage bond she shared with Nikator?
Maybe Minos was expressing his thoughts on the matter?
Or maybe Nikator was telling His Majesty that Biyu couldn’t marry Jian because he was already married to her?
Nausea rolled in her belly in waves. Nikator had told her he wouldn’t tell, but things were different now. What if he thought it was best for Muyang to know before he handed her off to someone politically?
“Are you listening?” Jian grasped her thigh tight enough to bruise.
Biyu slapped his hand away on instinct. “What are you doing?”
“Hm?” He stared at her innocently, a brow arched.
“You can’t just … touch me.” She glanced at the others, but no one was paying attention to them—or more importantly, to him. “I’m a princess and you need to show some respect.”
Jian chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Why am I not allowed to touch you? You’re my betrothed. We’re to marry in a few months.”
“We’re not married yet.”
“But we will be.”
“So what?” Biyu shifted in her seat, her hands grasped tightly in her lap. “If I don’t want to be touched, then I can say so and you must abide by that. I don’t care if we’re betrothed, married, or separated—I don’t need to explain my decision to say no.”
His mouth twisted into a frown. “You still have the haughtiness of a royal, even disgraced as you are. I would have thought it would be beaten out of you, considering how docile you seemed.” He clucked his tongue and casually reached for a handful of dried fruit.
“You are mine, Princess, to do with as I please. The sooner you understand that, the more peaceful our married life will be.”
“I’m a princess—”
“Why do you continue to pretend like you being royalty matters? I was around in court before your father was murdered, Princess Biyu, and you were a nobody back then, too. Your father never looked your way, and neither did your mother or your siblings. So why do you cling onto your MuRong name when you’ve always been a nobody?
Whether you live, die, or remain as a prisoner, nothing will change.
Nobody will notice, or care. That princess title of yours has always been useless.
So you truly should be grateful that His Majesty is allowing you to marry me. ”
The back of Biyu’s eyes burned and she wanted to shout at him for the way he was talking, for the bleak future she could see awaiting her, but no words came out.
Despair seized her and she laced her fingers together to keep from shaking—she was doing that so often now, trying not to tremble in rage or misery.
She was always trying not to tear at the seams, and yet life kept testing her over, and over, and over again.
“Well, Princess Biyu? Have you anything to say?” he asked with lifted brows.
He placed his hand on her thigh again, but this time she couldn’t swat him away.
She could only stare in dismay, because she had already expressed her desire and yet he was pushing at the boundary again.
It was a warning of what would happen once they were wed.
“Hm?” he pressed.
What was she even supposed to say in a situation like this?
Thank you, I’ll try not to be a burden? Thank you, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me since I’m nothing to begin with?
Thank you, I’ll be sure not to open my mouth and offend you with any autonomy?
She blinked back the stinging tears and turned to where Nikator was still standing with Minos and His Majesty.
How long would it take for him to come back? She needed him to take her away—
Her breath nearly caught in her throat.
What was she thinking? Since when did she see him as a … safe place? She must have truly lost her mind if she thought that brute was anything other than a murderous, horrible fiend that would surely lead to her demise. He wasn’t her savior. And she shouldn’t have been looking for him for help.
Nikator’s gaze cut through the distance and locked on her.
Her heart stuttered, time seeming to slow as those sapphire blue eyes narrowed to slits.
A broiling heat seared her chest and fury danced in her chest, sweltering enough and sharp enough that it confused her—because she wasn’t angry, and yet she could feel it writhing beneath her skin, curling in the pit of her stomach.
Nikator said something to His Majesty and then he was walking toward her, his expression shuttered.
Minos called out to him, but he either didn’t hear or was intent on ignoring him.
When he stepped into the pergola, she realized he was absolutely livid.
Nothing on his face overtly gave it away, and yet she could pick up the way the muscle on his jaw feathered, the way his eyes blazed.
Nikator stopped a few feet away from her and his face twisted into a scowl, his withering stare set pointedly on Jian’s hand still pressed on her thigh.
There was an animalistic, feral gleam in those jewel-like eyes that reminded her of blue flames, hot enough to incinerate his foes and bright enough to draw in anything admiring their beautiful light.
“Get your fucking hand off her,” he growled.
Jian flinched and withdrew, but then his brows drew together as if confused that he had abided by Nikator’s command. But how could he not listen? Any sane person would cooperate, because he looked ready to murder. The flash in his eyes was sinister. A promise of violence.
Biyu remembered the corpses he had laid out in front of the palace and their carved-up bodies—this man was capable of viciousness, and anyone who thought otherwise was a fool.
Nikator jerked a thumb toward one of the twisting paths they had taken to arrive here. “It’s time for you to go back to your chambers, Princess Biyu.”
Relief flooded through her and she readily jumped to her feet. “Ah. Did His Majesty give permission?”
“Yes. Let’s go now.” He sent a dark look at Jian, who glared back.
Without another backward glance, she scurried after Nikator as he stomped out of the pergola, only pausing to give a nod to Daiyu and then to Muyang, who watched from afar with Minos.
Biyu kept her head low, her hands pressed together as she mimicked the bows and then trailed behind him.
She could feel Jian’s gaze burning into her, but she refused to look at him.
It wasn’t until they were far away from everyone’s prying stares and gossips that she was able to breathe in relief.
But still, his serrated words rang through her mind.
Whether you live, die, or remain as a prisoner, nothing will change. Nobody will notice, or care.