It had been a few months since Emperor Drakkon Muyang had married Yin Daiyu, the infamous commoner who had, somehow, ensnared his cold, dead heart. Most nobles had sneered at their union in secret, but nobody could say anything, especially since the emperor would skin them alive for any disrespect sent her way, and because nobody wanted to mess with a woman who had ridden adragonto the palace after the Autumn Festival. Just the sight, apparently, had marked her as worthy to be the empress. Biyu hadn’t witnessed it, seeing as how she was almost always trapped within her bedchambers.
Biyu entered the palace with her sister; Liqin took a different turn down one of the forked halls, and Biyu could finally breathe in peace as she went the other way. Thankfully, they weren’t roomed together and didn’t have to see one another the rest ofthe week. It was only during these weekly garden walks that she was subjected to Liqin’s sharp tongue.
After climbing different staircases and traversing through a few winding halls, she finally reached her room. Upon entering, the guard closed the door behind her and she was finally alone. There wasn’t much furniture in her room. A large four-poster bed took up half the area, with fancy, gilded curtains that were held back by silver tassels. There was also a vanity with various cosmetics and a few pieces of jewelry that the emperor hadgraciouslyallowed her to keep, a few decorative tables against the walls, a couch she never used, a body-length beveled mirror, and a capacious wardrobe beside it.
She walked over to her window and flung the wooden shutters open, revealing the sprawling garden she had just been in, four stories below. Sunlight filtered through her room and she eased onto the cushioned bench she had pushed there; originally, it had belonged to the vanity, but she liked it better here. Where she could lean against her arms against the sill and gaze at the greenery down below. Where she could pretend she was free.
What would it have been like to walk through the same gardenswithouther guards present? Or to feel the wind against her skin and to not wonder if the emperor would change his mind and lock her in the dungeons? She rested her head against her arms and peered down below, her eyes drooping.
Startling red hair had her jerking upright from her slumped position. Nikator wasn’t with Vita anymore, but standing at the path, seemingly lost in thought. Biyu’s first instinct was to slam her windows shut and hide under her covers, but she stopped herself and instead stared at him unabashedly. The wind tousled his long hair, and from afar, she couldn’t see what expression he wore. The more she stared at him, at his dark cross-collaredtunic, the muscular outline of his body, and the way the sunlight danced across his features, the angrier she became.
He had ruined her life the day he had run her family members through with a sword. When he, along with the emperor and his men, had killed their way to the throne room and taken what was never theirs. And through it all, he got to be free down there? Walking wherever he pleased? Talking to whomever he pleased?
It wasn’t fair.
Biyu’s hands flexed and unflexed. She wanted to hurt him just as badly as he had hurt her. She wished he could be in the same situation as she was—locked away and forgotten. It had been five years since she had been a prisoner; five years since he got to live a luxurious life in the palace.
She hated him.
Maybe that was what possessed her to grab the closest item to her left, which just so happened to be a half-rotten apple the maidservants always served, despite her distaste for that specific fruit. She gripped it tightly, the soft fruit denting around her finger pads as she pulled her arm back. She forced all of her fury, her hatred, and her bitterness into her swing as she chucked the apple with all her strength at him. It wasn’t like she was going to hit him, anyway. It was just a small exercise to release steam. Her aim likely wouldn’t hit.
Except … the apple soared through the air, straight toward him.
Time slowed and her mouth dropped open. Right before it could slam onto the side of his head, he turned sharply, unsheathed his sword in a split second, and sliced the fruit in half. The two halves splattered onto the ground beside him.
Biyu bit back a sharp gasp, her hands gripping the window sill as Nikator glanced toward the windows lining the wall. She barely ducked below the window, her heart hammering.
What the hell?
What the hell?
What. The. Hell?
Biyu hadn’t expected the apple to actually almost hit him, or even get close to him. Her aim was shoddy at best. She had just wanted to release some stress. Pretend to hit him, and have it harmlessly fall onto something else. She hadn’t even expected it to be in his vicinity.
But another thing that shocked her was hisreaction. How had he even known that something was soaring straight at him? Were his reflexes just that good? And how had he managed to slice it in half that quickly? It wasn’t humanly possible.
Her pulse thundered in her ears and each breath sawed in and out of her lungs. She couldn’t stop her sweaty hands from trembling. She gripped her knees to calm the quaking, but it only made it worse.
Did he know that she had done it? No … he couldn’t have seen her.
But—But what if he had?
Biyu waited a moment, her nerves calming as she repeated to herself that there was no way that he could have known it was her, and then raised her head just enough for her eyes to poke above the window. Nikator was staring at the splattered remains of the apple, his glare flicking over the windows, and then back at the rotten fruit. She ducked down below again, her hands pressing against her mouth.
She kept her eyes trained on the door to her room, waiting for it to burst open, for the red-haired warrior to barrel inside and slice her head off, but it never happened. Seconds turned to minutes, and soon, she realizes that he wasn’t going to enter her bedchambers. Relief pooled in her chest. She was safe. He didn’t know she had thrown it.
Biyu couldn’t control the hysterical giggles that erupted from her.
She had almost hit him.
Square on the head.
It wasn’t funny, but it was hilarious at the same time. She laughed and laughed until her sides hurt, until tears sprang in her eyes and she was lying on her bedchamber’s floors staring up at the caisson ceiling with a snake curling around the moon, about to devour it—the symbol of the MuRong dynasty, the same symbol that had been tattooed on her forearm when she was too young to remember.
A sigh escaped from her and she continued to stare at the design, tracing it into her memory. She wondered, briefly, what it would be like to be devoured by a viper like that. And for a moment, a smile graced her lips.
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