Everyone held their breath.
“Feiyu was the one who promised you that,” Muyang said slowly. “Feiyu is no longer here.”
“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. Hewas 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 ofallyour 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, andsinceyouare 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 haveimagined—that Drakkon Muyang would demand someone give their life up for her. That he would makeNikatorgive 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. Herfingernails 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 hadraised. 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.
