Chapter 23 #2
They didn’t speak again as they left her chambers.
She laced her hands together in front of herself as they wove through the halls.
Eventually, they arrived in the main hall where the wedding would transpire.
Music lifted through the air, humming softly over her.
The thicket of sounds—people laughing, talking, moving—brought a host of memories she wanted to ignore.
She’d always hated social events. Even more so since her imprisonment.
When they entered the hall, nobody batted an eye at them.
Everyone was so engrossed in their own conversations, in their own gossips, that they didn’t care if the imprisoned princess shuffled her way to the dais where the emperor and empress sat, bowed to them and mumbled her greetings, and shuffled back to her position at one of the tables for the nobility.
Nikator hung a few feet away from her. He leaned against one of the pillars behind her, his attention raking over the colorful costumes of the nobility. He didn’t appear impressed by the glittering jewels, the fancy silks, or the heady smells emanating from them.
Drakkon Muyang appeared as bored as always.
Dressed in rich, dark clothes, he was a smear of powerful, inky magic against the backdrop of vividly dressed nobles.
His presence was heavy in the air, intermingled with powerful magic that made it hard to breathe without remembering it hung around her densely.
Beside him, his wife glowed. Daiyu truly was a beautiful beacon of light.
Her dark hair was coiled behind her head artfully with half a dozen beautiful hairpins that shimmered every time she moved her head.
The slight bump of her stomach was apparent even as she sat.
Occasionally, she rubbed it, and on more than one occasion Biyu caught Muyang’s hand pressed on her abdomen. Almost … lovingly.
A pang shot through her chest and she snapped her head down with enough force to hurt.
She stilled her pounding heart. Drakkon Muyang was a monster incapable of love.
He was a grotesque, overly powerful man who had grown crueler with time.
Not … not the opposite. There was no way that Biyu and Yat-sen were dethroning a man who didn’t deserve it.
She forced herself to remember the day he took the throne. The blood of her family still stained her memory. All that blood. All the screaming. The crying. She couldn’t forget.
Did Daiyu actually love that accursed monster? How would she react when … when Yat-sen inevitably killed him? Would she be relieved? Or would she scream and cry and act the same as … as when Biyu had lost her family?
The dark thought hung over her head. The scroll she had stolen burned a hole in her pocket. She had brought it with her since she knew she’d run into Yat-sen here, and yet it felt wrong. Terrifying. Like she was making a mistake. Or maybe because she realized her actions had consequences.
She needed to find her brother and pass it to him.
Then she could think about the consequences.
Then she could think about Daiyu’s face twisting with grief.
Or Nikator’s eventual horror. Or … or how everyone in this hall would—everyone loyal to His Majesty and a part of his court—would suddenly find themselves in a terrible position.
How they would have to kneel before Yat-sen and ask for forgiveness, ask to be brought under his favor.
Nausea curdled her stomach. Even when rich and decadent food was brought in front of her, she could hardly bring a morsel to her mouth.
Even as Liqin entered the hall, flocked by servants and noble ladies, Biyu could hardly focus on anything.
Not on how beautifully her sister was dressed, nor on the cold, indifferent mask she wore.
The ceremonies went without a hitch, and then the feast began, the dancing, the music. All the while Liqin sat rigid in her seat, her new husband appearing equally impassive about the whole thing. Though, he offered more polite smiles than Liqin did.
“Are you enjoying the evening?”
Biyu turned sharply to find Wu Jian grinning at her. Her insides coiled together and a quick glance showed that Nikator was surrounded by the other Peccata members. Minos, Vera, and Thera.
Jian didn’t wait for her response as he slid into the seat beside her. His long hair was slicked back, and he smelled like cedar and alcohol. Pleasant and bitter—the two scents warring with one another.
“I was hoping to catch you sooner.” He leaned closer to her, his elbow brushing her breasts as he picked something off her plate. She reeled back, but he pressed his other hand on her lower back, keeping her rooted in place. “You look beautiful.”
Biyu’s nose wrinkled. She had wanted to be told just that, but it sounded off coming from him, and she realized she didn’t need to be told she was pretty if it was coming from him. She only wanted to hear it from … someone else.
Anyone else, she told herself. Though she didn’t entirely believe it.
“Thank you,” she said in a tone she hoped implied she wanted nothing to do with him.
He didn’t take the hint. Or perhaps he didn’t care. He leaned back against the cushions of the couch they sat upon. He licked a chicken bone clean and sucked the juices and oils off his fingers. “We’re to marry in a few short months.”
“Ah … yes.” She glanced over to where Nikator had wandered off to. Even in the distance, she could see the scowl coloring his pretty face. Minos was saying something to him—likely teasing him—and he was having none of it. He still hadn’t noticed Jian had snuggled his way beside her.
“They’ll be consummating tonight. Isn’t it strange?”
Biyu snapped her attention back to him. “Excuse me?”
“I always find it strange,” he continued.
“When two people marry, everyone knows they’re fucking later in the night.
Isn’t that … crude?” He chuckled and raked a hand through his hair.
She grimaced at the sight—he likely had smeared chicken juices all over himself.
Maybe he was too drunk to care. “Your sister and that oaf … will fuck tonight. And everyone here knows it.”
Her mouth dropped open at the obscene things coming from his mouth. “Don’t speak about my sister that way,” were the only words she managed to stammer out.
“Oh, but it’s true.” Jian glanced over at her. “That’ll be us in a few months, too. People will speculate how it’ll go down. Aren’t you curious about it?”
“This isn’t something you should speak about out loud,” she hissed, glancing around herself to make sure nobody was listening in on them.
The last thing she wanted was for her reputation to be tainted.
“And I’m not the right person to be talking about this stuff with.
These are … these are matters that are inappropriate to speak to a maiden about. ”
The corners of his mouth curved. “You’re still insisting you’re a maiden?”
“I am,” she snapped. “Now, Lord Wu Jian, I think it wise if you—”
He took a swig from his cup, his cheeks ruddy. “Let me break you in.”
“E-excuse me?” Biyu’s face paled at the implication, and then a furious blush spread over her face. “Don’t talk to me that way. You have insulted me over and over again, and if you think I’ll allow—”
Jian burst into laughter. Biyu watched in stunned silence as he clutched his belly and guffawed as if she had told the funniest joke in the world. He wiped the corners of his eyes, still giggling. Maybe it was the alcohol going to his head, or maybe he was losing it.
“You’ll allow me to speak? Princess Biyu, have you forgotten your position?” Another chuckle. He looked at her in a way that made her blood boil; like she was a petulant, na?ve child who was spouting nonsense. “Where is that guard of yours?”
Biyu tried to search for Nikator, but he had disappeared, along with the other Peccata members. Even in the sea of dark hair, she didn’t immediately spot him. Her hands grew clammy at the thought of not having him close by when she was with Jian, but that thought process made her pause.
When had she started to see him as her protector?
“He’s around,” she said in a clipped tone. She reached for her water and took a sip of it. She could handle herself. Jian wouldn’t be ballsy enough to do something at Liqin’s wedding, when the emperor was so near.
“Good.” He took another helping of her roasted chicken off her plate—much to her annoyance—and began tearing off the meat.
Between mouthfuls he said, “Why’s he always hanging around you, anyway?
I’ve heard Commander Yao Bohai isn’t particularly pleased that he’s wasting his skills on something as trivial as guarding you, especially when we need all the manpower we can use to fight those rebel rats.
Apparently, they’ve even infiltrated into this palace.
Can you believe that? They can be anywhere.
” He waved his greasy fingers at the crowds of people, sending a chill racing down her spine.
“But don’t worry. Once we’re married, he’ll be forced to go back to his role of serving His Majesty.
Then you’ll be free of him. I think he’s doing this little side quest with you because he wants to shirk his duties and relax, when that’s the last thing we need right now. ”
Jian continued to blab about roles and the importance of knowing your position—most of which Biyu ignored.
Her attention was drawn to Yat-sen, who had just entered the hall and taken a seat across the room from her.
He was dressed in rich blues and purples, his hair crown glinting gold, and his polite mask in place.
Even from this distance, she could make out the four guards who trailed behind him, most of them engrossed in the festivities around them.
Nikator wasn’t here … Wasn’t this a perfect opportunity?
Biyu lurched to her feet, inadvertently cutting off whatever crap Jian was spouting. “If you’ll excuse me—”
Jian grabbed her wrist before she could walk around him. A thunderous expression purpled his face. “Where are you going?”
She tried wrenching her hand back, but he only tightened his grip.
“I didn’t say we were done speaking. And besides, you can’t just leave.”
“I see my brother and wish to greet him.” She didn’t need to answer to him, but a jolt of fear ran through her at the sight of his scowl.
She had seen men like him before; men who thought they could lord over anyone, particularly women, without reprimand.
And it terrified her what someone like that was capable of when they thought no one was watching.
And here, they were surrounded by many people, and yet he still wanted to control her? Eyes and ears were everywhere.
“Sit down, princess.”
“No. Release me.” Biyu tried to keep her voice low so as to not attract attention—that wouldn’t bode well for her and her plan to see Yat-sen.
“I won’t repeat myself.” Jian offered a polite smile to a passing noble, who cast them a curious look. When he glanced back at her, his grin turned chilly. “Sit.”
She had two options right now. She could abide by his orders and sit like a good princess. She was used to that. Whoever had power had a say in what she was allowed to do, or not to do. But something rebelled in her.
Jian was not her warden. He was not her commander. And he couldn’t order her around.
Biyu leaned forward, her voice dropping to a hiss. “Unhand me, or I will tell Nikator to cut your hand off. And trust me when I say that he will do it.”
Jian flinched, and it was enough for her to wrench her hand back.
She moved around him and he tried to grab her again, but she pulled her hands to her chest and gave him her nastiest, meanest glare.
She tried to muster up Liqin’s disgust, Nikator’s lethal scowl, and His Majesty’s haughtiness in one look.
“You have no right to touch me,” she spat. “Don’t try it again, else you’ll find yourself missing a few limbs.”
Jian sputtered a response, but she didn’t listen to it as she swept down the hall and away from him. For once in her life, she felt like an actual princess with a hint of power. Or maybe she was just learning to swing her weight around. Whatever the case, it was time for a change.