Chapter 41
Biyu couldn’t sleep that night and neither could Nikator.
They both sat on their respective benches, barely speaking to one another.
Nikator likely didn’t want to talk and spiral into guilt and grief—his silent anger and confusion simmered under the surface of his barely concealed misery.
Biyu, on the other hand, needed time to think, to remember every interaction she had with Feiyu.
She truly didn’t expect to die here, but it was a high possibility. Was she fine with risking it all? Absolutely.
The sliver of a chance at a happy life was better than a long life filled with longing, sadness, and perpetual regret.
It was a stupid plan. One that barely had any bones or foundation to it. One that was built purely on the off-chance that Muyang cared about them. One that would likely make her a permanent prisoner for the rest of her life.
She was stupid. But she was determined.
She had never truly fought for anything her whole life. Even the plan with Yat-sen had been mostly with her plotting and sneaking around—she had never faced anything head-first.
Except now.
When Bohai came to them the next morning, his expression was grim. The ring of keys clanged in his hand as he glanced at the both of them. “Ready?”
Neither of them answered. He jammed the key and twisted, and waved her forward. He did the same to Nikator’s cell and they were all headed up the stairs.
Each step brought her closer to her fate.
A wave of nausea churned in her gut. Claws of dread pulled on her chest but she didn’t allow the self-doubts to seep in.
Nor the fear that betrayed her trembling limbs.
As much as she had prepped herself mentally for this battle, the closer they drew to Muyang, the more her anxiety flared.
Muyang’s magic thrummed in the air, thick and ominous and choking the air from her lungs.
She had thought they were headed in the throne room, but Bohai walked past it and up a flight of stairs. It wasn’t until they reached another set of doors that it dawned on her why Muyang didn’t want her to have an audience with his court—she was supposed to be dead.
Bohai shoved open the doors and waved them inside. Heavy, cloying power hung in the air and she suddenly felt lightheaded. She instinctually dug her heels into the floor, unable to move forward. All thoughts fled her mind. It was like a fog settling over her, panic surging.
She couldn’t think.
Nikator placed a hand on her lower back. Concern flashed over his eyes. “Biyu?”
She was making a huge mistake.
She should have run away.
No. She cleared those thoughts away and steeled herself.
She had made up her mind the instant she had warped herself and Nikator here.
She hadn’t come here to regret her decision, to cower at the sight of the emperor, to shrivel up at the mere thought of failing.
She had come here to fight in her own way.
Biyu inhaled deeply, then exhaled. Nikator’s hand was still on her back and she silently thanked him for the reassurance she felt from that small gesture. Bohai tapped his foot on the polished floors, eyebrow raised.
“This way, princess,” he said.
Without wasting another moment, she stepped inside the room.
The instant she stepped inside, she realized she recognized this place.
It was wide and spacious, with couches on one side.
It was the same place Nikator had brought her to after the marriage spell went into effect when he, Minos, and Vita had discussed the details with her.
It was the indoor training room the Peccata members used.
A throne had been brought in, which Muyang sat upon with a wintry mask that revealed nothing.
The air was dense with magic that made her dizzy.
Lining the wall were Minos, Atreus, Li-ling, and Thera.
They all wore grim expressions and her stomach knotted more the further she stepped into the room.
Bohai went to stand by the wall beside the others, a frown dragging down the corners of his mouth.
He seemed to think her fate was sealed in death.
Muyang watched her with those black eyes that were the same as hers—starless, midnight eyes that tied them in blood.
Biyu stopped a few feet away from him and dropped down to her knees, her head bowed low. Nikator did the same, garnering a few hushed responses among the Peccata members.
In the privacy of their circle, it seemed Nikator didn’t bow to Muyang. And yet he did it right now—for her.
“Your Majesty,” Biyu started, but he waved his hand, silencing her.
His attention was solely on Nikator.
“Bohai told me this morning that you have decided to go against my orders.” Muyang’s sharp voice cut through the tension and Biyu flinched without meaning to.
Each word was heavy with disappointment.
“You even somehow managed to rope Vita into your insubordination. What do you have to say for yourself, Nikator?”
Nikator kept his head low. “I apologize for disappointing you, Muyang—Your Majesty.”
Another ripple of whispers followed.
Muyang’s eyes narrowed.
“You have every right to punish me,” he continued. “But I beg of you—please let Biyu go.”
“And why should I do that?” There was an undercurrent of rage to his words, as if the idea itself angered him, as if it was so unfathomable.
“Because I love her,” he said, so quietly that it was hard to hear. He raised his eyes, shoulders trembling. “Please. I can’t lose her.”
Muyang appeared unaffected. If anything, he appeared annoyed.
He glanced over at Biyu as if seeing her for the first time.
There was no hint of Feiyu in his mannerisms, his speech, or even his voice—he seemed cruel and forged with steel.
“Princess Biyu, what do you have to say about all of this? From my understanding, you had the option to flee to Sanguis, but you decided to come here despite Nikator’s efforts to smuggle you out of the empire. Why would you do something so foolish?”
She had planned for all of this mentally, and yet her thoughts fled her again.
All of her carefully crafted arguments dissolved and she hated that her tongue was so heavy.
“Your Majesty, I could have run, but if I want to have a life with Nikator, I needed to face you. I committed treason, and for that, I am deeply remorseful.”
She lowered her head even more, her trembling hands pressing against the floor.
“Please forgive me for my crimes, Your Highness, and allow me to live with Nikator. I will atone for my crimes in the ways you see fit—be it by being a prisoner here for as long as it takes, or working under you. Please allow me to be with him.”
Silence.
She could feel his gaze burrowing into her. She continued to stare at the floor, her face so close to it that it was nearly touching. She waited. Sweat trickled down her spine. Finally, Muyang … laughed.
She grimaced as his laughter echoed throughout the room and when she dared peek up at him, he was staring down at her like she was out of her mind. His lips pulled into a wicked grin that spelled terror for her.
“Oh, the gall on you, princess. Just like your father—asking for things that are undeserving of you.” His smile grew sharper.
“You wish to take away Nikator in the same breath you ask for your crimes to be forgiven? You have committed high treason. Tell me why I shouldn’t put you to death right here, right now? ”
“Because—”
“Don’t say that you love each other.” Muyang’s eyes narrowed and the temperature in the room dropped as he leaned further into his seat. “Give an actual reason as to why I should delay your punishment.”
Biyu took a deep breath. She could do this.
She channeled her strength from deep within herself and lifted her chin.
The fog in her mind receded enough for her to think clearly.
“Because you care for the both of us—I know you do. You care deeply. I may be the daughter of the man you loathed your whole life, but you were never cruel to me. You caged me in this palace because you saw no other choice, but you made sure I was fed properly, given clothing, given all the material luxuries a princess should have. I was unharmed. I know you’ll deny it, but you do care for my wellbeing.
But more importantly, you care for and love Nikator.
You raised him. You trained him. You made sure no one could ever oppress him or defeat him ever again.
Nikator and I love each other very much, and we both wish to be together.
” She exhaled deeply and met his gaze levelly.
Her breath hitched in her throat at the ferocity in those bottomless pits of black; it was strange that they shared the same eyes, and yet his were so dangerous.
She tried to evoke the same lethality, her breath shuddering out of her like a serrated knife.
“I call upon the wish you bestowed on me, Serpent Prince.”
Muyang stilled.
The room quieted even further, and she could feel Nikator’s gaze burning the side of her face. But she didn’t pull her attention away from Muyang’s—she couldn’t.
“I wish—I wish for you to forgive me for all of my crimes.” Her words rang in the room.
More silence.
Feiyu had promised her a wish. She had been lying in bed, unresponsive, uncaring for whatever he had to say at the time, but she had clung to those words.
The idea that he could grant her something hadn’t appealed to her back then, since it had sounded like an empty promise.
She’d never given it much thought since, and he probably didn’t either—until now.
But she remembered it, and he did too. She could tell by the way he glared at her. The way his mouth pursed in what could only be surprise. He tapped his fingers on the armrest of the throne.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Everyone held their breath.
“Feiyu was the one who promised you that,” Muyang said slowly. “Feiyu is no longer here.”