Chapter 41 #2
“My blood uncle made that oath to me,” she said. “You, Your Majesty.”
A frown pulled on his lips as he seemed to mull it over again.
Would he grant her the wish or not? The whole idea of her coming here hinged on him agreeing to it; it was a gamble.
He was well within his rights to dismiss the wish he had granted her.
After all, nobody else had been present when he had gifted it to her, and it wasn’t like he’d made a magical pact or a blood oath to make sure he could grant it to her.
But he didn’t strike her as the type to go back on his word.
“You wish for me to forgive you of all your crimes?”
“I do, Your Majesty.”
He nodded slowly. “Very well.”
Nikator jerked his head up, eyes widening.
Biyu released a shuddered breath. “Thank—”
“You are free to go, Biyu. But since I’ll be forgiving all of your crimes, that means that the crime of being a MuRong will also need to be forgiven.
From henceforth, you are no longer MuRong Biyu, Princess Biyu, or any type of royal.
You have lost all your titles and status—it’s the only way I can forgive that slight. Is that a favorable outcome for you?”
Being a princess to a dead dynasty meant nothing here. What did she care about if Princess Biyu was considered dead? She had no use for her title and royal status.
She hurriedly bobbed her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Then you are free to go.” He motioned to the doors, which had been sealed shut by Bohai.
That seemed too easy. She couldn’t complain about it, but there was a niggling thought in the back of her mind that said something wasn’t right. Would he really let her go right now?
Biyu rose up to her feet unsteadily; her legs had gone numb from kneeling so long. Nikator climbed up at the same time. He reached forward to touch her hand, but before their fingers could even graze each other, Muyang’s voice rang out.
“However.” His magic leashed out from him, sending tendrils of smoke and shadows to dance around his feet and his frame.
He smiled wickedly, the air around him growing electrifying.
“Someone must pay for your crime of treason, and since you are forgiven, the punishment must be passed on to someone else.”
All the color drained from her face.
Muyang lifted a finger toward Nikator. “Who better to handle your punishment than your own husband?”
It was like someone had punched her. The air left her lungs and she was left gaping, gasping, her body trembling like a wilting flower in the lashing wind.
Nikator stiffened. His blue eyes widened in surprise, but then something else took over—resignation, relief, and something dark that made him all the more satisfied with this decision.
Biyu couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think outside the fog muddling her thoughts.
Nikator would die for her crimes.
This must have been a joke. A horrible, sick joke.
She had thought she had trumped the emperor with the single wish she had made, but this …
this was much worse than if she had been executed.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She hadn’t thought—she never would have imagined—that Drakkon Muyang would demand someone give their life up for her.
That he would make Nikator give up his life.
“No.” The whispered word ruptured her chest, cleaving open a growing chasm as the sentencing cemented further. Nikator would die in her stead. Muyang would execute him. She would be free. “No! Absolutely not. You—you can’t do that.”
“I can.” Muyang rose to his feet and held his hand out.
Magic flickered on his fingertips and shadows danced around his wrist and palm, before a black sword comprised of smoke and ink materialized with a static shock.
Sinister, dark energy swirled in the room around the blade and he pointed it at Nikator. “Bare your neck for me, Nikator.”
Nikator stepped forward and Biyu quickly snatched his arm, pulling him back. “No!” she screamed, holding on tighter. Her fingernails dug into the material of his dark tunic. “No, no! He had nothing to do with this! You can’t—you can’t kill him!”
“Someone must pay.” He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug.
It was much too casual for the punishment he was going to inflict on someone he had raised.
And yet she could read the intent as clear as day on his cruel, cruel face.
“Who else other than Nikator?” He shifted the blade toward her belly.
“Unless you have a babe nestled in there that you would rather have pay the price?”
Nikator went deathly still. She blinked, still trying to process the words, and when she stared down at her belly, her hand instinctively went to press against it.
She hadn’t even thought about that possibility, but she knew deep in her heart that she wasn’t bearing a child.
She couldn’t be. Hadn’t her monthly cycle already come?
And yet the horror of the idea made her want to retch. She clenched her trembling fists, nausea rolling over her in waves. If she ever did conceive a child, she could never give him, or her, away for something she had done.
“I would never—” she began.
“No,” Nikator growled, stepping forward protectively in front of her. Fury made his voice harsher, lower, and his rage and magic radiated off him in powerful, dangerous waves. It clashed with Muyang’s. “You will not touch her.”
Muyang only nodded slowly, as if he had expected as much, and shifted the blade to Nikator. “Then you shall die.”
“I would rather die than her.” He lifted his chin and stared levelly at the man who had raised him, taught him to fight, taught him everything about being ruthless, merciless, and lethal. “Do it.”
“Take me instead,” she blurted. “Don’t hurt him!”
“No, Biyu.” Nikator peered down at her with blazing blue eyes. “You’re free to go, Biyu. So go.”
“No!” She tugged on his arm, but he didn’t budge. Tears streamed down her face and her voice grew shrill. “Please, please, don’t do this!”
“Live a good life,” Nikator said quietly. He grazed her cheek briefly, his fingers skimming over her tears. And then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, murmuring in her ear, “I love you.”
“Firstly, I’ll have to break the magicked bond,” Muyang started.
Horror sliced through her chest. She didn’t want the bond broken—it would symbolize more than their union breaking; it would mean their lives were no longer linked by something greater, no longer considered husband and wife by the ancient magic, that their fates were shattered.
This couldn’t be happening.
This must have been a nightmare.
This couldn’t be happening.
Nikator stepped forward. “I’m ready.”
“You can’t!” Biyu threw herself in front of Nikator until the sharpened tip of Muyang’s shadow-cloaked sword was pointed at her throat. She held her arms out defensively, as if that was enough to shield him from Muyang’s wrath. “Take me instead. Please, show some mercy!”
Muyang lowered his sword just as Nikator grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
His lips parted to say something—likely to tell her to stop this nonsense—but she wrenched out of his grip and fell on her knees in front of Muyang’s feet.
She touched the floor and lowered her head, her entire body wracking with sobs.
“Please! Please, please. Take me instead! I can’t—I can’t have him die. That is worse than death! Please show mercy, please!” The words came out in a rush, her sobs breaking through the words. She tried to stop from weeping so loud, so incoherently. “Please, I beg of you.”
Silence stretched between them. The only sound was her sharp inhales as she tried to control her cries, and the crackling of Muyang’s magic. For a moment, everything was too still.
“One of you must die,” he said simply.
Her face crumpled and she lifted her teary eyes.
He was glaring down at her. And why shouldn’t he?
She had attempted to kill him and then outsmart him.
And now he was going to take away the one person who gave her joy in this wretched place.
He would rather lose his loyal warrior than see her walk free without any guilt or satisfaction.
He would rather break her heart than kill her.
Maybe he’d realized it was a more fitting punishment.
“Muyang—” Nikator began.
“Silence.” The emperor’s voice cracked like thunder and he turned his narrowed eyes to him. “You have disappointed me, Nikator. You’ve lost the privilege of speaking my name or looking in my eyes. I am your emperor. Bow down.”
A wave of power shot from him and Nikator’s knees buckled. He fell to the floor, his knees cracking on the hard, polished wood, and lowered his head, his fists clenched tightly to his sides.
Muyang scowled at both of them, his attention flicking over to the other people in the room.
Biyu had forgotten they had a small audience.
Li-ling’s usually cheery expression was carved from stone, as if she had seen a scene like this play out already.
Minos, Thera, and Atreus appeared shocked, but otherwise compliant.
Bohai looked unamused, unimpressed, and thoroughly disgusted—perhaps he didn’t like the display of cruelty.
Maybe he had more of a heart than Muyang or Li-ling did.
“Very well,” the emperor continued in a smooth voice. He slammed his sword down beside him and it splintered through the wooden floor. He then unceremoniously fell down on his throne, waving at them both. “Prove to me how much you love each other. Both of you will fight each other.”
A fight? That was easy. Relief pooled in her chest. Nikator could easily beat her. It would be like child’s play to him.
But then his next words hollowed out her chest.
Muyang smiled wickedly, knowingly. “The winner will die.”