“Princess,” Nikator growled, the glass bits crunching beneath his boots as he drew closer. Each step sent an ominous chill down her spine, freezing her to her core. “What have you done? Answer me.”
She broke out into a sob, scooting further away. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“How did you use magic? What did you hit me with?” He kneeled in front of her while she tried to move further from him, but he grasped her shoulders and held tightly. “Answer me.”
“I don’t know!”
“You don’t know? I find that hard to believe when you threw me across the room,” he snapped. “Now tell me what the fuck you just did. How did you use magic?”
“I-I—” She swallowed down the rising panic, the horror, the fear that curdled her stomach and made her want to vomit all over him. She quivered badly as she raised her hand to stare at the ring. Her breath hitched as she noticed the blue magic stone had lost all its color and was now clear. The magic inside of it had run out—from that single spell.
Nikator grasped her hand, smearing blood over her pale fingers as he gently turned it over to examine the ring. His eyes narrowed to slits and rage consumed his features, belying his careful touch. “A magic stone,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm. “How did you get this?”
She could only stare at him. She needed to lie, but she couldn’t think of anything.
“Princess Biyu.” A muscle on his jaw clenched. “What did you do?”
“I-I—” Nausea built inside of her. She was going to die. He was going to tell the emperor. Then she would be executed just like those three torso corpses. Her head would be severed from her body, her limbs would be hacked off, her naked body would be put on display?—
Nikator released her with a growl, cursing as he reached forward. She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blow to come, but it never did. When she peeled her eyes open, he was grabbing something behind her, his chest brushing over the side of her face. She reeled back, trembling the entire time until he held the crumpled spell she had used.
He rose up to his feet and rolled out the entire scroll. The more he read, the more confused his expression became, and when he finally looked at her, only wild bewilderment remained. Biyu pressed her trembling lips together. Was it that strange that she had wanted him to forget all about her?
Nikator rolled up the scroll and held it up. “Either my Huo reading skills are absolute shit, or you must have lost your fucking mind, because why—” He lowered it, his voice dropping and more confusion marring his face—that, and something else, something she couldn’t pinpoint. “Why did you do this? Why did you … why would you …”
Tears filled her eyes and she choked back another cry. “Because I wanted to be free! Th-that’s why!”
“Bymarryingme? How the fuck does that even work?”
Marryinghim? What was he talking about?
Biyu stared at him, dumfounded.
“Why would marrying me be the solution to your problem? How—how does that even work?” Nikator looked down at her like he was seeing her for the first time, and she saw what she could only describe as revulsion on his face. That or pity,or a mixture of both. She couldn’t decipher it. She shuddered beneath his glare. “I don’t know what your intentions were, but I must inform His Majesty. You’ve been plotting something and I don’t know how marriage fits into this, but you’ve committed treason. You’re not supposed to use magic and you somehow have that ring?—”
“No, no, no!” She hauled herself to her feet by grabbing the table by her side. Her head swam with information. Marriage. His Majesty. The mage towers. “You—you’ve got it all wrong. I don’t— Why would I want to marry you? And I’m not planning— I don’t— What? What are you even saying—” She placed a shaking hand on the side of her pale, bloodless face; she felt lightheaded. She must have been dreaming. “I don’t want tomarryyou.”
His expression twisted for a moment before he shifted away from her until his back was facing her, exhaled deeply and seemed to try to rein in his emotions by the way he was clenching and unclenching his fists. Biyu’s lower lip trembled and more sobs broke from her. She was going to die now. If he didn’t kill her, then Drakkon Muyang certainly would. How could she have been so stupid?
“N-Nikator—” she started, desperate. “Please?—”
“Come with me,” he gritted out.
“No! Please, no! Anything—anything but that. Please!” Biyu backed away from him and searched for an exit—she knew that running was futile, but her fight or flight kicked in and she had to run, fast, and far.
Nikator closed the distance in two strides and snatched her wrist. His furious eyes burned like deep-blue flames and his warm breath brushed over her wet cheeks. “You don’t have a choice, princess. You come with me, or I drag you, kicking, screaming, and all. Do you understand?”
Biyu hiccupped and buried her face in her free hand. Her shoulders shook with each sob, and he tightened his hold on her wrist, dragging her toward the exit. Her feet moved on their own, her cries falling on deaf ears as they entered the hallway. She kept her face low, her trembling hand covering half her face. She didn’t want anyone to look at her. She couldn’t stand the looks they would inevitably wear—the pity at her crying face, the disgust at realizing her treason, the humor at seeing her humiliated. It wasn’t just the nobles who would wear those masks, those expressions—it was the maidservants, the passing officials, the mages, the gardeners, the merchants. Everyone would look at her like that.
They finally stopped walking when they reached one of the corridors in the inner palace; guards swarmed each exit, and Biyu’s entire body rattled with fear. She hadn’t been here in years. Even back when her father reigned, she hadn’t been allowed in these halls unless he had summoned her. The emperor was somewhere here. She could tell. Could practically feel his energy oozing into every inch of the place. The ominous, heavy feel of his oppressive magic made her want to throw up.
Nikator was unfazed by it. He stopped in front of one of the double doors. “Is His Majesty inside?"
“He’s in a war council meeting,” the guard responded, staring pointedly at the slashes and drying blood coating Nikator’s arms. “We’ve been given strict orders to not disturb him.”
He cursed softly. “How long ago did it start?”
“Half an hour.”
