Chapter 23
Biyu wrote a quick note to Yat-sen when she arrived to her room later that night.
I saw the white lotus in our gardens today.
It was beautiful, and it smelled just as you suspected.
The fragrance was stunning. I wish for you to smell it as well. Soon?
She tied it to Jade and sent her on her way.
Biyu wasn’t able to deliver the scroll to Yat-sen.
Mostly because Jade wasn’t able to have that big an item tucked in her collar, and partly because there was no way for her to bump into her brother.
She rarely ever saw him outside of events.
Currently, the spell was tucked in her wardrobe beneath some folded clothes of hers.
She couldn’t hide anything under her mattress anymore; after the marriage spell, Nikator had searched her room for the second spell she had—the forgetful spell—and confiscated it.
He would likely know to search beneath the mattress if he suspected she was hiding something.
She and Yat-sen had exchanged a few quick notes back and forth.
She had asked if they could move up their plan so Liqin wouldn’t have to marry Zihao, but he had written back that they couldn’t move their timeline that fast. She was sure Liqin would never forgive her if she found out that they were planning something like this without her—and that they could have changed her fate if they’d decided to speed up their plan.
Her only consolation was that, hopefully, once they took back the throne, Liqin would be freed as well.
Then she’d be able to leave Zihao and marry whoever she wanted.
And so, the day of Liqin’s wedding came.
Biyu had chosen a dark plum-colored dress with gold accents and embroidered cranes along the skirts.
Lin had come and done her hair prettily, pulling it up and pinning it in various sections with gilded hairpins and jewels.
Another maidservant had applied makeup over her face, dusting rouge on her cheeks and lips, and drawing a vermillion lotus on her forehead between her eyebrows.
They had applied drops of lily and chrysanthemum nectar on her wrists and neck, ensuring she smelled as a princess should.
Even after they left, she sat at her vanity staring at her reflection in her handheld mirror.
She’d never had her body-sized mirror replaced ever since Nikator crashed through it—or more precisely, she had forced him to crash through—and so she couldn’t determine if her dress went well with her makeup or her jewelry.
Setting down the mirror, she picked up one of her necklaces; it had a thick gold chain with a gilt flower in the center. She ran her hand over the cool metal, then moved to another similar piece. Which would look better?
“The second one.”
Startled, she dropped the jewelry and whirled in her seat.
She hadn’t heard Nikator enter; he was leaning against her door clad in dark clothes that concealed the weapons she knew he had on him.
His bright eyes were half-mast. There was something otherworldly dangerous about him; lethality clung to him like a heavy cloak, and yet the mere sight of him was enough to lull the anxiety in her heart, the nerves that buzzed at the thought of being out in front of His Majesty’s vicious court—an ordeal that always made her want to retch.
Biyu’s lips parted and she noted the way his gaze drew down to her mouth. “You— You have that bad habit,” she said with a huff, pulse quickening.
“Which habit are you referring to?”
“Sneaking up on me.” And making my heart race.
“I’m your bodyguard. Aren’t I supposed to shadow your every move?” There was a sarcastic quality to his tone. Like he knew something she didn’t, or maybe that he didn’t quite believe his own words.
Biyu’s eyebrows pulled together, but she quickly smoothed out her expression—after all the work the maidservants had done, she didn’t want her makeup creasing.
“More like my warden,” she mumbled, turning back to her jewelry.
She picked up the second necklace. This one had a thinner gold chain and a simple inlaid amethyst at the center.
It wasn’t as extravagant as the previous one, but it was more elegant in its simplicity.
“What are you doing in here?” Her voice came out softer than she intended; like she was hurt that he didn’t enter her chambers anymore or that he didn’t watch her as closely as before.
She should have been happy at the newfound freedom, but she found herself lonely without his foreboding, annoying presence.
“I need to make sure that fucking snake doesn’t try to enter here.”
She flinched. She couldn’t help it.
Snake?
“Who …?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. He had a dark scowl on his face like he wanted to kill something.
“Wu Jian.” A perfect eyebrow notched up. “Who else?”
“Oh.” So he wasn’t talking about Yat-sen.
“Did you know that he asked a few guards where your chambers were?”
She stilled at that horrifying revelation. Why did he want to know where her chambers were? Was he perhaps planning something sinister? Her mind traveled to the guards from a few weeks ago and what they had intended to do. Her hold on the necklace tightened and she broke eye contact with Nikator.
“I had no idea.”
“I won’t let him.” His voice dropped, lowering to something deeper, darker—a promise. She could feel his gaze burrowing into the back of her head—or perhaps her neck.
Her heart thundered in her ears, the blood rushing to her face. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. He wouldn’t let a sleazy, oily, smarmy man like Wu Jian enter her bedchambers. He wouldn’t let that man kiss her.
The last one was a stretch.
Biyu tinkered with the clasp on the necklace.
Her fingers were suddenly too stubby and clumsy.
“Some would say it’s his right to enter my chambers,” she found herself mumbling.
He was her intended and if he chose to enter the bedchambers of an imprisoned, disfavored princess, then that was well within his rights.
“Some would say that you are acting out of line.”
“Is that what you would like?” He was behind her in seconds; his long legs carrying him in five strides where it would have taken her twice as many.
He wordlessly took the piece of jewelry from her hands and deftly unclasped it.
He brushed his finger over her hair, which was unrestrained by hairpins, and moved it to one side of her shoulder.
His knuckle grazed the nape of her neck, sending a row of goosebumps to erupt over her sensitive, flushed skin.
He placed the necklace against her chest, the metal cool. “You want him to enter your chambers?”
She didn’t know what compelled her to speak—she could barely think beyond the warmth of his breath against her exposed neck. The way he skimmed the back of his hand over her nape. “Perhaps he wished to talk to me.”
“You think he wishes to simply speak to you?” His voice dropped and he clasped the necklace in place. “Oh, princess. You are truly na?ve to the hearts of men.”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?”
He paused, but he didn’t take his hand away. She didn’t dare twist in her seat to see what expression he wore, and she was relieved he couldn’t see the blush staining her cheeks.
All she could think about was his mouth locked with hers. Her hands splaying on his chest. His fingers twisting in her hair.
“For one, he wouldn’t stop at talking, Princess.
” Nikator rearranged her hair so it fell over her back once more.
He leaned even closer, the intoxicating scent of ocean breeze, summer, and vanilla spices filling her senses.
He was like a sweet nectar she wanted to drink greedily .
“I wouldn’t let him go further than that.
If he so much as spoke to you, I would cut his tongue off.
If he dared to kiss you? I would slice his lips off his face.
And if that fucking sword of his grew near you?
I would kill him ten times over. Because, Biyu, everyone might think that he is your intended”—his voice lashed out like a whip, heated and lethal—“but you are my wife and I will not stand to have another man covet what is mine.”
She inhaled sharply. The breath stole from her lungs as he stepped away, the warmth of his body heat leaving her cold. She turned to face him, heart pounding in her chest.
Nikator stared at her levelly. He was … serious.
She had never seen such a look on his face. Purely feral. Purely possessive.
Of her.
When she didn’t say anything—at a loss for words—he motioned to the door.
“We should go. When I checked on the hall, it was more than halfway filled. By now, almost everyone has likely arrived. If we tarry any longer …” He lifted his shoulders and flashed her a sharp, wild grin.
“We may miss the wedding altogether. Not that I mind. I hate social events like this, anyway.”
Biyu bobbed her head and jumped to her feet. A bit too fast, because the blood rushed to her face and her vision dotted with shadows. She rounded the bench, waiting for her vision to clear, and bunched her hands over her skirts.
“How—” She cleared the unsteadiness from her voice. “How do I look?”
Something akin to surprise flitted over his face. His attention roved over the length of her frame and every fiber of her being lit on fire. His jaw clenched, a muscle feathering. And then he shrugged.
“Like a princess,” he said dryly.
“Oh.” She stared down at the silk shoes poking through her heavy skirts. She shouldn’t have expected any other response. He wasn’t one to compliment, anyway, and did she want him to say pretty nothings to her when they were enemies? When they had no reason to be flirting with one another?
But he declared that you’re his wife, a small voice argued.
He’d also sworn to break the marriage spell, too.