He stopped, a dozen feet away, and turned his head just slightly to look at her. “Excuse me?”
“If you truly believe I’m conspiring against His Majesty, why not tell him now?”
His mouth twitched. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Nikator left her, and Biyu could only stare at the end of the corridor where he had disappeared down to. There was no one here, so theoretically, she could run off to Yat-sen and tell him exactly what she wanted to. But she had an inkling of a doubt that Nikator wanted her to do that—to prove that she was conspiring against the crown. He expected her to rush to her brother and spill the details of what had transpired. Although it pained her to let this sliver of an opportunity of freedom go, she headed inside her bedchambers and slammed the door shut.
Once she was alone in the safety of her room, she collapsed on her bed. Her mind was a whirlwind and she couldn’t stop replaying everything that had happened. The horrible event from the morning, the note Yat-sen had given her, and the confusing, but infuriating, conversation with Nikator just now.
Her hand went straight to her neck and she prodded the spot where he had poked her with the tip of his blade. It stung and she hissed in discomfort, her finger pad tracking the dried blood along her throat. She could still feel his body close to hers, how she was practically splayed against the wall with his chest a mere inch away from hers, how his warm breath had tickled her skin …
Biyu banished those thoughts.
What was wrong with her?
She absolutely loathed him and that hadn’t changed. No matter how beautiful he was up close. Or how his cold eyes reminded her of glittering jewels. She was trapped in a gilded cage and nothing he said or did would change that he had been one of the many who had chucked the key to her freedom far into an abyss.
5
When Biyu was fifteen,one of the palace guards tried to assault her. It was only a few months after the wicked emperor killed her father and took the throne. She had guards on her at all times like now; but back then, she wasn’t even allowed any walks in the garden. She had no one to lean on. No one to talk to. And no one but enemies all around her.
The guards from five years ago usually ignored her or taunted her, but they never tried anything with her. Until one night, when a rather handsy guard had shoved her against the wall of the hall, and tried yanking her clothes off. The other guards had stood watch, waiting for their own turn. She could still remember the leers, the grins they’d sent to each other, the way some had touched themselves. She had fought hard, kicking, screaming, clawing at the man while the other laughed. There were a dozen of them and she had been sure—so sure that it frightened her—that even if she managed to fight one, she was no match against the rest. But before anything could happen, the men had frozen. Not in shock, but quite literally.
Their eyes had moved, panic swirling in them, but their bodies were frozen in position. As if they were stuck in apainting. A horrendous, macabre painting of a princess being ambushed.
Biyu remembered shoving the man away and pulling the torn fabrics of her dress over her body, her limbs shaking even as she backed away from their still frames.
“Unacceptable.” A smooth, hauntingly terrifying voice had murmured.
She had flinched and whirled around to find a man at the end of the hallway, walking toward them, wearing the deep, verdant robes of a mage. She’d recognized him as the head mage, Feiyu, by his unmistakable black and red dragon mask.
He’d paused in front of her and she’d trembled away from him. Would he attack her next? Would he try something? Would he laugh? Would he?—
He’d placed a hand on the top of her head. “Calm yourself, child. You are safe.”
Biyu hadn’t believed him. She had only stared at the slits in his mask that revealed impossibly black eyes—eyes that looked too similar to her own.
“I am never safe here,” she had whispered.
“How do you wish for them to die?”
When she didn’t answer, he simply patted her head and waved her off. “Go, princess. Rest in your room. I will handle this.”
She had run off the instant he said that. The next morning, all of the guards were found dead, their corpses impaled by giant metal rods in the courtyard, and their severed heads mounted on spikes. All of the imperial guards were called forth and sent a clear message: no one was allowed to touch a royal. Ever. Even a disgraced royal like herself.
He had saved her, but he couldn’t save her from all the trauma, the fear that followed her everywhere, particularly wherever men were present. She was alone for so long that shefelt like she was going mad. That even the shadows were trying to grab her, murder her, and violate her. She withdrew even more within herself, going mad with fear, pain, and something deeper—something dark that gripped her tightly and didn’t release her.
The dragon-masked mage had visited her once more.
“You are not well, princess.”
She was hiding beneath her covers, the curtains of her bed drawn closed, the window shutters sealed shut so there was only blackness surrounding her. She didn’t remember the last time she had left the bed.
“Princess, you need to eat.”
She did not speak.
“I have brought you a gift.”
