“Yes?”
Her thoughts fled her. She swallowed, and she could feel the sting of the knife.
“You think I have a pretty neck?”
It was the only thing she could think to respond with. An utterly stupid, vapid response that, quite frankly, should not have been uttered in such a situation. And yet it was the only thing she could think of that wouldn’t immediately tell him that she was lying.
His smile faded and he blinked slowly, as if seeing her for the first time. They stared at one another for what felt like hours, but must have been a minute at most. She inhaled slowly, shakily, her breasts rising, and his gaze followed that movement. She could feel her face flushing despite the seriousness of her position—despite having a blade to her neck.
Then, his mouth quirked up again, and he traced the tip of the knife—a dagger now that she could see it better—down the column of her throat. “I think you’ve got a lot of pretty parts on you,princess, and I think you know it, too. Don’t try to distract me with your feminine charms. They simply won’t work.”
She didn’t want to use her femininity on him. She didn’t even knowhowto do that. But she made her voice come out low and sultry, like the maidservants she had overheard when they flirted with the palace guards. “You offend me, sir. The way I see it is that you’ve put me in a compromising situation. I don’t mean to distract you in any way, but it appears you have different intentions.”
Nikator stilled, the air between them stirring, and the shadows in the halls seemed to stretch further. He raised his blade under her chin and a cold tremor rippled down her sweat-slicked back. There was a feral gleam in his jewel-like eyes. “Different intentions? I have a knife to your throat; what other ways can you misinterpret this?”
She wriggled her wrist to make a point. “You have me pinned to this door like I’m a commoner you wish to bed.”
“Is that what you are?”
“A commoner?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or someone you wish to bed?”
She knew the answer was neither, but the silence that strained between them, with his head tilted slightly as if he didn’t know what to make of her, had her second-guessing herself. She wasn’t a commoner, for sure. But was she someone he wished to bed? Just the thought itself was ridiculous. He had murdered her family! He shouldn’t have any thoughts about her in that way. And she certainly didn’t think of him like that.
Nikator’s hold on her wrist tightened and he edged closer. The scent of salty ocean breeze made her nostrils flare; he smelled like summer, and she hated it. Their bodies were almost touching, his legs so close to hers, and her head tipped so far back since he was too freakishly tall.
“What did the note the prince gave you say?” He leaned down until his face was inches away from her. He was bent over her in such a way that it was hard to move, to breathe, to do anything. Because if she moved even the slightest bit, either his dagger would pierce her, or she’d be touching him. Maybe that was what he wanted. For their bodies to be flush against one another, but she couldn’t fathomwhy.
She abhorred him, and it was reciprocal. She saw the way he glared at her and her siblings. His barely concealed loathing. He saw her, and the rest of her family, as a threat to His Majesty’sreign, and he wanted them all dead. So why was he doing this to her right now?
Biyu defiantly raised her chin even higher, and he shifted the dagger, allowing the movement. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yat-sen didn’t give me any note.”
Something cruel lit up his face. “Ah. So it was Prince Yat-sen.”
She blinked. “W-what?”
“I didn’t specify which prince, but you seem to know who I’m talking about.”
The color drained from her face and that only seemed to fuel his suspicions, even as she tried to mask her surprise. “No,” she said sharply. “It’s not anyone. You’re confusing me, that’s all?—”
“What did the note say? Do you have it on you?”
“I told you—there is no note.”
Nikator flashed another sharp grin. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I’d hate to hurt you.”
He’d hate to hurt her? That was rich coming from the man who had helped murder her family and ruined her life. She wanted to laugh at him, but the rising rage in her quelled her from doing anything of the sort—in fact, that very rage was telling her to spit right in his face. But she only glared at him, even as every instinct within her wanted to scream at him. To shove him away, to pull at the threads of her magic and feel the rush of power that she hadn’t felt in years. To incinerate him and everyone in this palace who had ever wronged her.
“There.” He flipped the dagger until he was pointing it at her face. His smile only grew wider, more curious, and more … unhinged. Like he knew he had struck a chord. “There’s the fire I’m talking about. You want to kill me, don’t you?”
Biyu blinked. Did she actually want to kill him? She wasn’t entirely sure. She knew she wanted him far away, and shefantasized about such a thing, but … did she actually want him dead by her hands?
She hesitated too long, because Nikator tipped his head back and laughed. It was such a rich sound, so pleasant that it made her flinch. And when he turned back to her, his eyes crinkled at the corners like he was used to beaming at people. Which was a stark lie considering how wicked he was.
“You don’t have to tell me; it’s written all over your face. If you were holding this blade instead, you’d run me through without even asking any questions.” He slid his weapon back in its sheath and stepped away from her. The warmth from his body promptly disappeared, leaving her unexpectedly chilly. “Count your days, princess, because I’ll find what you two are hiding and His Majesty will have your heads for it.”
He whirled on his feet and headed down the hall. Biyu’s legs trembled and she almost slid down the door with how weak her knees were, but she managed to push herself away from the support and stagger a step toward him—a step toward danger.
“Why?” she asked loudly.
