“I assure you that I’m simply trying to get back to my room.” She hated the tremble in her voice, and how he brought it upon her.
Nikator watched her for a few moments—moments that seemed to stretch for eternity as his gaze zeroed in on her face and seemed to be searching for something. She held her ground and stared back, but it was mostly because it was all she could do. She couldn’t run, she couldn’t hide, and she certainly couldn’t vomit all over him.
He snapped his attention to her guards. “You both are dismissed. I’ll take her to her room.”
They both blinked. He was the emperor’s warrior, so he did have some sway over the soldiers and guards, but she didn’t think he was allowed to simplydismissher guards. They must have been wondering the same thing, because they both hesitated.
Biyu swallowed down her rising horror; she didn’t want him to lead her anywhere.
“That’s all right,sir,” she said, for lack of a better title, because she certainly couldn’t go around calling him a murderer, a killer, or a savage beast—though they all fit much moreperfectly. “Thank you for your concern, but my guards are very much able to escort me to my chambers.”
A slow smile lifted his lips and remained there. It chilled her down to her core. “You have everyone fooled, don’t you? Playing the part of a vulnerable, unassuming princess who can’t do anything, and yet you have fangs, claws, and fire in your soul.”
“What are you talking about?” Her hands shook with something—rage, perhaps, or confusion, or hatred. She couldn’t tell which. “I’m not—I’m not like that.”
If she was, she wouldn’t have remained here. She would have tried to escape a long time ago, instead of trying to warn Yat-sen of the dangers of trying anything rash. She was a coward when it mattered. She certainly didn’t have a fire in her soul, even if her flesh seemed to crave it.
He glanced sharply at the two guards, his voice cold. “I told you both that you’re dismissed. Leave. Now.”
This time, they didn’t falter and scampered away, leaving Biyu alone in the dark hallway with Nikator. He turned toward her and she stiffened at the coldness in his calculating gaze. A smile curved his lips again, and she hated how her chest tightened in fear—and something else—at the mere sight of it.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her hands fisting together. “I could have gone with my guards.”
“I’m sure you could have.” He waved toward the end of the corridor and flashed her a sharp, lethal grin. “Lead the way,princess.”
Biyu couldn’t help but glare at him and the way he mockingly threw her title around, especially when they both knew that he didn’t think of her as anything. She certainly wasn’t a princess in his eyes anymore; not since his emperor took her father’s throne.
If he wanted to make things difficult for her, then fine. She’d make things ten times worse.
Instead of walking at a brisk pace like he would have likely preferred, she took her sweet time. Her steps slowed and she stared at the fancy decorations lining the walls as if she had never seen them before. Her eyes drank in the geometric patterns adorning the line of doors, the jade-colored glazed tiles that decorated the halls, the vermillion painted pillars, and the intricately interlaced windows overlooking the gardens. Nikator trailed behind her, but if he was impatient, he didn’t show it—and Biyu certainly didn’t want to stare at him to find out what he was thinking beneath that cool demeanor of his.
After what felt like eternity, but was probably only ten minutes, she reached her bedchamber doors. A wave of relief washed over her at finally ridding herself of Nikator’s presence. She was also relieved that Yat-sen hadn’t tried to contact her during her trek to her room. The last thing she needed right now was to be put in a compromising situation.
Right as she touched the ornate handle, Nikator’s hand snaked forward. The rough callouses on his hand brushed against her soft skin, and he clamped down on her wrist painfully. She inhaled sharply, turning to him with wide eyes.
“What are you doing?” she said, trying to yank away from him, but he held on too firmly.
He stepped forward, and she backed away until her back was pressed against her door. He twisted her wrist and pinned it above her head, despite her struggle to free herself, and with a flash of steel, she felt the point of a knife pressed against her neck.
She stilled. This time, Nikator’s smile almost seemed genuine; his eyes sparkled, and if it wasn’t for the blade on her neck, she would have thought he was about to tell her something amusing.
“Now,princess,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “what was written in the note the prince gave you?”
4
A cold shockjolted through Biyu’s system. The blade poked into her neck enough for a bead of blood to form and trickle down her throat. She could feel the slow descent; his gaze switched between her eyes and the column of her neck.
He must have seen her when she read the piece of paper. Or maybe he saw the maidservant slip it to her. Whatever the case—he knew.
She tried to appear nonchalant, neutral, but by the way his smile was only growing, he must have seen through her veneer. She never was good at hiding whatever she was thinking.
“W-what note?” Biyu cursed herself for the warble in her voice, the sharp inhale that shuddered through her thin frame that only made the point of the dagger feel sharper against her fluttering pulse.
“Are you going to play coy?” he murmured, inching closer so she was flush against the door. There was only an inch or so between their bodies. His heat wrapped around hers, sickening her down to her core. Her bones rattled at his closeness—at the warmth of his breath against her face. “Pretend like you have no idea what I’m talking about? And then what, Princess Biyu? What will you do when I slice this pretty neck of yours for lyingto me?” Nikator canted his head to stare down at her better; the hand that held her wrist seemed to burn her skin.
Biyu lifted her head, but he only bent the knife until the blade was across her whole throat this time—instead of just the tip.
“You …” she whispered.
