She loved their soft colors. But she dared not mention it to the emperor for fear that he would tear them all out if he found out she enjoyed staring at them.
Her knowledge wasn’t voluntary, and it certainly wasn’t because she was interested in any of them. In fact, she pitiedherself that she had such a useless skill. She was never going to be a gardener, nor a florist, nor … anything but a prisoner, really.
It was perhaps because of her knowledge of the northern palace gardens—the tiny region the wicked emperor allowed her to stroll through—that she realized something was amiss. The tree branches swayed with heavy, humid winds, and her skirts billowed against her legs. She peered at the clusters of flowers to her left and then her right. They didn’t quite look right; this area of the garden was harder for her to make out from her window, but now that she was up close, she could tell something was different about it.
Her sister, Liqin, pushed back her long hair over her shoulder, her serrated words piercing through Biyu’s thoughts. “You look absolutely ridiculous gawking at the flowers like that,” she sneered with a haughty scoff. “Why is it that every time we see each other, you act a fool?”
Biyu flinched at her barbed tone.
The guards flanking them didn’t say anything; they were used to her sister’s vicious words. It was the only way her sister could feel powerful when she was also so powerless. Their father, the previous emperor, had been murdered and the throne usurped five years ago, leaving the two of them and their two younger brothers as royal prisoners in the wake of the new dynasty.
Liqin, who had always acted like she was superior, was now forced to lower her head to practically everyone. Except Biyu, of course.
“I have never hated anyone more than I hate being around you,” she continued to seethe. “Will you ever talk, or shall I continue to hold a conversation for the both of us?”
Biyu opened her mouth to say something, but the words dried up. Anxiety balled up in her chest, weighing her down until it was hard to think. Her thoughts froze.
“Well?” Liqin snapped.
“I—” She swallowed down her apprehension. She didn’t know why she always clammed up whenever Liqin snapped at her. Maybe she was still stuck in the old mentality of how Liqin was a higher rank than her, simply because their father had favored her and her mother over Biyu’s mother. They were equals now, in a sick, twisted way. But she couldn’t form any thoughts. Any rebuttals.
“Ridiculous,” Liqin said under her breath, marching down the paved path leading to a copse of cherry blossom trees.
One of the guards followed her sister closely, the other keeping close to Biyu. The rest of the walk went by in a rather dull fashion. Liqin muttered insults while complaining about whatever was bothering her—the blades of grass that poked through her silk shoes, the sun rays that were too bright for her skin, the humidity making her dress stick to her thin frame—while Biyu kept silent and appraised the gardens with a glazed stare.
This was the only chance they got of fresh air every week, and without fail, Liqin had to snap and whine the entire time, which always put a damper on Biyu’s mood. If they weren’t always stuck together, she might have enjoyed breathing in the thick summer air. Feeling the warm breeze against her skin. And smelling the strong floral scent wafting over her. But instead, she had to curl in on herself and look for ways to not further anger her sister. It was becoming increasingly difficult to enjoy anything in Liqin’s presence.
It was, perhaps, made worse by the fact that Jade wasn’t here. Her pet cat, whom she had befriended a few years before the throne was usurped, was possibly the only good thing in the palace. Jade was likely strolling through the palace, hiding away and scurrying behind furniture, or sneaking into the kitchen for a bite.
Biyu’s footsteps faltered when they neared the end of their path and she spotted the familiar garden gate that led inside to the palace. A sense of dread pulled at her chest and she sighed. Their little walk was almost over, and she would have to wait until next week to enjoy the outside—as enjoyable as it could be with Liqin breathing down her neck at every little thing she did, or didn’t do.
“Oh, good,” her sister said. “We can finally?—”
She inhaled sharply, her words cutting off.
Biyu lifted her head, when her eyes met a familiar pair of lethal sapphire. So bright, so blazing, and so alike to blue fire. She similarly froze in her tracks, her breath caught in her throat, and her hands bunched together tightly. With hair as red as blood and pale skin that was slightly tanner the last time she had seen him, His Majesty’s deadliest warrior, Nikator, stood near the entrance with another member of the Peccata—the emperor’s force of skilled warriors. Biyu barely noticed the female warrior, Vita, and couldn’t tear her attention away from Nikator.
He was tall, muscular, and dressed casually in Huo clothing, even though he was a foreigner. But all she saw was the scene from five years ago; him, standing a few feet away from her, his sword dripping with the blood of her brother, and his murderous eyes flicking down to her. His footsteps as he drew closer, the warmth of his breath as he kneeled down to where she had fallen, and his whispered threat, “Do you, too, wish to resist His Majesty’s claim to that wretched throne?”
She didn’t even remember what she had replied with.
Biyu snapped out of her reverie and stared down at the silk shoes poking out from her lavender colored skirts. She could feel his glare lingering on her, and she fidgeted with her sleeve. Normally, their paths rarely ever crossed, so why was he even in these parts of the gardens? Was it just a coincidence?
Nikator and Vita spoke in hushed tones as they walked on by, their attention barely flicking toward Liqin and Biyu. It was only when they strode past that Biyu could breathe again. She shuddered where she stood.
The guard beside her cleared his throat. “Princess Biyu, please keep walking.”
“Ah, yes,” she said with a trembling smile.
She took a step forward, before hesitating, her gaze skating over to the flowers. It hit her then what had been missing in the gardens.
“All the yellow flowers,” she said, blinking. “They’re gone.”
“Excuse me?” The guard shifted on his feet, moving the spear in his hand as he followed her gaze to the flowers dancing with the wind. His dark brows pulled together. “I think His Majesty wanted to decorate one of the rooms.”
“With yellow flowers?”
“It’s Her Majesty’s favorite color.” He shrugged and then motioned her forward. “Come on, let’s go.”
