Chapter 27 #2
A pounding headache pulsed between her eyes and she massaged her temples. This was all too much information at once. “Why would His Majesty marry her to him? Why—” She raised her head to pin Nikator with a stare. Her tone accusatory as she whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What would you have done if you knew?” Minos folded his arms on the table and leaned his head on them.
“Asked His Majesty to reconsider? Even Zihao—who is favored by the emperor, by the way—didn’t question his decision, even though I’m sure he’s incredibly frustrated to be married off instead of promoted like everyone thought he would be. ”
“My sister is married to a man who kills for a living and is—is unhappy with being married to her. What if he hurts her?” The more she spoke, the more her horror mounted, grew, and burdened her soul.
“He won’t,” Nikator said. “Zihao is an honorable man.”
She doubted it, because if he was a part of His Majesty’s deadly assassin unit, then how honorable a person could he be? There was no honor in killing for coin. Or loyalty. Or whatever reason he had for doing what he did.
Biyu rose to her feet, the chair screeching behind her.
Suddenly, she wasn’t in the mood to do any of this.
She cast Nikator a dark look as she gathered her books and scrolls, and stomped over to the maze of bookshelves.
How could he not have told her anything about who her sister was marrying?
She had hoped Liqin would learn to be happy with a simple man like him; she knew Liqin was less than thrilled at the prospect of the marriage, but she thought maybe …
she could be happy, or that Yat-sen’s plan would succeed and Liqin would be able to return to the palace if she chose to do so. Or … something along those lines.
Now, her heart twisted with worry and she wondered if Liqin was safe out there—wherever she had gone with her new husband.
She heard Nikator sigh from behind her and his chair push backward. She didn’t look to see if he was following her, because she already knew he was. Her frown deepened and she shoved one of the scrolls into one of the shelves where it belonged and then moved along the shelf to deposit a few more.
Nikator’s hand brushed over her elbow, a gentle tap to let her know he was there. She glared at him over her shoulder and snatched her arm away.
“What is it?” he asked when she scurried away and aggressively slid the rest of her scrolls and books into their designated spots. “You’re angry at me.”
“Why do you think?”
He sighed, again, and it stoked her anger even more.
She tried to feel for his emotions through the bond, but found she couldn’t. It was like staring into a blank canvas; was it true that they could share their feelings, or was it a fluke? She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Well?” she asked.
“You’re angry because …” His gaze trailed over to the dusty shelves framing them. “I didn’t tell you who Guo Zihao is.”
“Precisely.” She marched along the paths between the bookshelves.
“Why does it anger you so much? You don’t even like your sister.”
“I do like my sister—”
“Who cares what happens with her? I’d say Zihao is in more trouble than she is,” he said with an eye roll. “Who would want to put up with her barbed tongue all day? You should know.”
Biyu’s cheeks warmed. “I understand my sister has her faults, but she’s my sister and I don’t like you talking badly about her.”
“All right, I won’t.” His frown told her how little he cared about her sister, and for some reason, that infuriated her.
Sure, Liqin wasn’t the best of people, and she did have a rather sharp tongue, but she wasn’t a terrible person.
She was terrified, imprisoned, and bitter—all traits that were understandable after being stuck in her room for five years straight with little interaction outside of it.
She followed the shelf and stared at spines of the books without reading any of them. Her mouth pursed and she found it hard to ignore the budding tension headache forming.
“You’re still worried,” he noted.
“Of course I am! My sister is married to an … an assassin!” She shivered at the word.
Nikator gave her a strange look. “Black Fang is loyal to His Majesty and this empire. They aren’t lowly thieves and bandits killing for a little coin.
They work directly under him, for the better of this empire and this dynasty; they aren’t all that different from the Peccata.
The only difference being that the Peccata is smaller, and made up of people who were raised by His Majesty. ”
Biyu didn’t think that made her feel any better; if anything, it only reminded her that Nikator had done terrible things for Drakkon Muyang.
How many people had he killed? But where she expected to find anger and disgust, she found nothing.
Normally, the idea of his activities—the assassinations, spying, trickery, and battles—filled her with revulsion and fear, but now she felt virtually nothing.
Maybe that said something about her, or maybe she was becoming used to the idea of getting her hands dirty.
She turned away from him. She didn’t want to face these confusing thoughts, so she asked instead, “Why did Vita give me a weird look?”
He wore a blank expression. “What face?”
“Surely you saw it?”
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
Biyu whirled around to face him, her face pinching together into a scowl. He must have known what she was talking about, and she was positive she hadn’t imagined it all. “Have you been able to feel my emotions all this time?”
Nikator stared at her for a beat longer, and it was all the answer she needed.
“Why haven’t I been able to feel yours? I’ve only been able to feel your anger from time to time,” she said with furrowed brows.
“There’s no way you don’t feel anything, so why haven’t I felt anything from you?
And what did Vita mean when she said it isn’t a problem for you, but implied that it is a problem for me? ”
They had spent so much time together the past week or two—particularly in each other’s arms and in bed—so maybe that was why she could read him better now.
She could see the shift in his gem-like eyes, the subtle way his jaw tensed, and how his spine stiffened slightly.
His attention darted to her clenched fists and then back to her face.
To everyone else, he probably appeared stoic, unmoved, and unbothered.
But she saw it for what it really was. Hesitation and grappling with an answer that would offend her.
She stepped closer until they were inches apart. She peered up at him with a deep frown. “Nikator, what aren’t you telling me?”
His knuckle grazed her cheek, a trail of heat following the motion. “Each Peccata member has … some magic they specialize in. Mine … Mine is effective in torture.”
Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Where are you going with this?”
“I’m able to …” Nikator shifted on his feet and she could see that this was difficult for him to talk about; none of them likely talked about their preferred magic much.
“Wrench information out of people’s minds.
As a result, I’m able to mentally block people from entering mine.
I’ve always had a mental block on mine in case anyone ever tries to enter my mind.
When I realized that we were both sharing our emotions through the bond, I fortified it.
However, sometimes I couldn’t help when my rage would slip through.
I’m … sorry for not being forthright with you. ”
He had been able to feel her emotions all along, while he had blocked his from her.
It was unfair, and it also horrified her that he was able to read her easily.
“Have you ever read my mind before?” she whispered, trembling at the thought of it.
A chasm cracked open in her chest and each breath wrenched from her like her last. “You’ve been able to read me all along? ”
“No.” He twisted his hand until he was cupping her face, leveling her with a serious stare.
“I’ve never entered your mind, Biyu. The emotions I’ve felt from the bond are very subtle.
It’s only when you’re feeling something extreme that I get an inkling of it.
Like right now, you feel terrified and angry. Why is that?”
How could she tell him that she was fearful because her plan would crumble if he realized what she was up to? That if he looked a bit more closely, he’d be able to figure it all out? Perhaps all their lovemaking had blinded him, had made him overlook some of her feelings and actions.
Biyu closed her eyes and released a shuddered breath. She decided to ignore his question and focus on something else. “Why have you never entered my mind? You’ve been suspicious of me for all these weeks. Why not confirm your own suspicions?”
He hesitated. “I thought about it,” he admitted, softly. “But I couldn’t go through with it. It’s an invasive type of magic, and it can cause serious harm and trauma. I didn’t want to do that to you. I figured if you were planning something, I could find out through other means.”
“Like being my bodyguard.”
Nikator nodded.
“And what do you think now? Do you still think I’m planning something?
” Her heart thrashed in her ribcage like an unrestrained beast, blood rushing to her ears, straining for an answer.
She was probably still suspicious in his eyes—the marriage spell, the way she acted, the lies he had caught her in—but maybe he didn’t want to see her that way. Maybe he wanted to believe in her.
His lips parted to speak and her breath stopped in her lungs, waiting.
“Biyu—”
Boom.
They were both thrown forward. Biyu stifled a scream, Nikator’s hands going to her waist immediately, steadying her. Another blast sounded, the floor trembling, and books falling off the shelves around them. Dust settled just as a cacophony of screams followed another thunderous explosion.
“W-what’s happening?” Biyu screamed, clutching his shirt.
But she knew the answer before he could answer.
Yat-sen’s plan was unfolding.
The palace was under attack.