Chapter 33
Biyu must have had sand or crushed glass beneath her eyelids, because her eyes were gritty and stung every time she blinked. The blinding sunlight made it worse. She had silently sobbed the entire night; she wasn’t even sure why.
Was it because she was guilty for what she’d done to Nikator and how she had ruined their relationship?
Was it because she had failed on her mission and as a result, Yat-sen had died?
Was it because she had been captured and would be killed soon?
Or was it because she couldn’t stand the way Nikator coldly looked at her like he didn’t even know her?
Or was it an amalgamation of everything?
Biyu rubbed her aching eyes; they were probably red and swollen, but if Nikator cared, he didn’t show it.
Judging by the darkness rimming his eyes, which appeared an even brighter shade of blue against the contrasting shadows, he hadn’t gotten much sleep either.
Maybe her weeping hadn’t been as quiet as she had hoped, but he hadn’t offered her any comfort if he had heard it.
Biyu combed her hair with her fingers and watched as Nikator tended to the small pot above the roaring flame.
He stirred what appeared to be a thin rice porridge with slices of dried tofu mixed in.
He yanked out a small satchel and poured the contents into the pot; shriveled, dried mushrooms floated to the top of the food, and he submerged them with the wooden spoon. The smell made her stomach rumble.
She shifted on the floor, hoping he would say something or break the tense silence, but he made no move to do so.
It was unbearable. At least back in the palace she’d received the occasional dry response here or there. Was this how it was going to be the entire way back to the palace? Silent, awkward, and with the kind of tension that made her want to scream at him to look at her?
Don’t ignore me, she wanted to cry. Please, just look at me.
She would only need to endure until she found a way to break away from him. The thought made her chest clench even tighter. Despite how coldly he was treating her, she didn’t want to part from him. It was a twisted, strange, conflicting desire; especially since he would be handing her off to die.
“Where did you learn to cook?” she blurted out when she couldn’t handle the quietness anymore.
Nikator didn’t even look at her. The only indication that he heard her was the slight pause in his stirring before he continued. “On the road.”
“What do you mean? Like when you traveled for your … warrior activities?” She sounded ridiculous to her own ears; she had no idea what he did on a day-to-day basis when he was out doing missions for the emperor.
“No.”
She waited for his response; when it didn’t come, she prodded, “Well?”
He sighed like she was an annoyance.
Biyu chewed on her lower lip, waiting.
Finally, he muttered, “I traveled as a child a lot. I picked it up from Muyang and Bohai; though Muyang was always a lousy cook. You could tell he was a royal even though he hadn’t been a prince in a long time.
Bohai was always better at it. Fang didn’t even try.
Han … well, he burned everything he touched.
And then I picked up some tips from Li-ling—”
He clamped his mouth shut and stared at the bubbling breakfast. His scowl darkened and he picked up one of the bowls and ladled the mixture inside it.
Biyu had heard of all of those people. Commander Bohai was Drakkon Muyang’s right hand man, General Fang and General Han were close allies, and Li-ling was his cousin.
She hadn’t realized that Nikator had known them all as a child.
What had his childhood been like? She wanted to ask, but the expression on his face told her not to overstep.
Nikator sidestepped around the fire and handed her the bowl; their fingers brushed against one another, and he stiffened at the contact.
Biyu’s heart ached when he pulled away and returned to his seat.
She inadvertently touched her index finger where it had grazed his, and wished things could go back to how they used to be. Where touches were expected.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He ignored her.
She picked up the spoon he had placed inside the bowl and used it to scoop up the thin porridge. It tasted savory, with bits of the dried mushrooms having rehydrated and added a meaty texture, while the tofu had soaked up the subtle soy and shallot flavor.
The silence between them built; Nikator ate two portions of the porridge, his gaze traveling to the trees swaying with the gentle breeze.
It took Biyu the same amount of time as him to finish her one bowl.
It was delicious and simple, but her appetite was gone.
Ever since escaping the palace, she hadn’t been able to enjoy her meals, even though she’d had more control over what she ate this past week.
“Nikator,” she started. “I—”
“Are you done?” He motioned to her empty bowl.
“Err, yes.”
Without another word, he rose and began cleaning up, not giving her another chance to speak. He gathered the supplies and packed them away before putting out the fire and leaving the stacked, dirtied pot and bowls beside it.
He didn’t look up from folding his bedroll as he said, “There’s a river over there. Go wash up.” He waved to somewhere behind her. “And don’t even think about escaping; I’ll just catch you, anyway.”
Biyu frowned at the implication. “I wasn’t planning—”
“On fleeing?” Nikator snorted, his cold eyes narrowing as he finally took her in.
There was no kindness in his expression, nor any goodwill behind those gem eyes.
“I was always so distracted by that lovely mouth of yours that I never realized how easily you lie. It’s like second nature to you, isn’t it?
Have you ever once been truthful? Maybe you should try it sometimes. ”
Her face warmed and she hated how those barbed words stabbed at her. They wrapped around her chest like thorns, digging deeper into her already worn and shredded innards. She swallowed down a snarky comment fueled by hurt, and spun around. She had only marched a few feet before he spoke again.
“Stay within the wards, else a creature might snap you up. The river shouldn’t have any beasts lurking within it, since they’ll be wary of the wards.”
Her attention skated to her right, where a rectangular red paper was nailed to a tree with a warding spell stamped on it with dried ink.
Now that he mentioned it, she saw there were a few around their campsite.
A shiver ran down her spine as she hurried toward the sound of rushing water.
Monstrous creatures lived within the empire, but the more populated cities and even a few villages had protection wards surrounding them that kept most of the worst of them at bay.
Rural areas like this were usually teeming with monsters.
Biyu’s feet ached as she stepped over broken twigs and bramble; her delicate silk shoes were meant for indoor use, not something like this, and they had seen better days.
Mud splotches and street residue—which she prayed wasn’t urine or animal feces—had stained the delicate fabric into a dull brownish color.
When she reached the river, she kneeled down and sank her hands into the cool water, then removed her shoes and dipped her throbbing feet. A sigh escaped from her and she tipped her head back to stare at the bright sky.
Minutes ticked by before Biyu decided to bathe completely.
A quick rinse in the river wouldn’t hurt, surely.
She had bathed at the inn yesterday, but a sponge bath was hardly effective compared to a good dunking in water.
She was sad that her perfumed oils weren’t here—a luxury she hadn’t even realized was a luxury—but the instant she stripped her clothes and stepped into the stream, she forgot all about that.
She scrubbed her scalp, her skin, and beneath her nails until the grime of travel and sleeping on the ground disappeared.
The water was frigid; a clear contrast to the warm summer air.
Her nipples pebbled in the cold and her teeth chattered. She splashed her face and worked quickly to rid herself of the smell of horse, sweat, and dirt. The water reached her mid-thighs and she was too nervous to go any deeper, since she didn’t know how to swim.
A rustle behind her made her freeze. The thought of monsters made her jerk upright and turn sharply behind her.
She half-expected to find a grotesque creature, a spirit, or a snarling beast watching her, but it was only Nikator.
He had stopped a few feet away from the riverbank, the dirtied pot and bowls in one hand.
He stiffened when he caught sight of her, his gaze flicking down to her figure and lingering on her breasts, where the water made them glisten.
It was like they were both stuck in a trance.
He stared, and stared, and his lips parted ever so slightly.
She didn’t move, her breath caught in her throat and her body warming wherever his eyes tracked, as if he was touching her there.
She could see the darkening of desire swirling in those sapphire eyes, deep and intent—a promise, slow, thoughtful, reverent.
It reminded her of their nights together, and she could see the hunger there.
He might have hated her, but he also wanted her.
She could feel herself unraveling.
He broke eye contact first, ripping his gaze away so violently as he turned to the side to give her privacy. Even from his side profile she could see the hardness of his clenched jaw, the way his fingers tightened over the pot until his knuckles were white.
“I didn’t know you were bathing,” he bit out.
Biyu licked her lips and rested a hand on the rippling water. “I figured it wouldn’t take long,” she murmured. “I’m not used to sleeping outside and I felt dusty, so …”
He gave a curt nod, his voice hoarse. “Put your clothes on.”