“Hm?” He stared at her innocently, a brow arched.
“You can’t just … touch me.” She glanced at the others, but no one was paying attention to them—or more importantly, to him. “I’m a princess and you need to show some respect.”
Jian chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Why am I not allowed to touch you? You’re my betrothed. We’re to marry in a few months.”
“We’re not married yet.”
“But we will be.”
“So what?” Biyu shifted in her seat, her hands grasped tightly in her lap. “If I don’t want to be touched, then I can say so and you must abide by that. I don’t care if we’re betrothed, married, or separated—I don’t need to explain my decision to say no.”
His mouth twisted into a frown. “You still have the haughtiness of a royal, even disgraced as you are. I would have thought it would be beaten out of you, considering how docile you seemed.” He clucked his tongue and casually reached for a handful of dried fruit. “You are mine, Princess, to do with as I please. The sooner you understand that, the more peaceful our married life will be.”
“I’m a princess?—”
“Why do you continue to pretend like you being royalty matters? I was around in court before your father was murdered,Princess Biyu, and you were a nobody back then, too. Your father never looked your way, and neither did your mother or your siblings. So why do you cling onto your MuRong name when you’ve always been a nobody? Whether you live, die, or remain as a prisoner, nothing will change. Nobody will notice, or care. Thatprincesstitle of yours has always been useless. So you truly should be grateful that His Majesty is allowing you to marry me.”
The back of Biyu’s eyes burned and she wanted to shout at him for the way he was talking, for the bleak future she could see awaiting her, but no words came out. Despair seized her and she laced her fingers together to keep from shaking—she was doing that so often now, trying not to tremble in rage or misery. She was always trying not to tear at the seams, and yet life kept testing her over, and over, andover again.
“Well, Princess Biyu? Have you anything to say?” he asked with lifted brows. He placed his hand on her thigh again, but this time she couldn’t swat him away. She could only stare in dismay, because she had already expressed her desire and yet he was pushing at the boundary again. It was a warning of what would happen once they were wed.
“Hm?” he pressed.
What was she even supposed to say in a situation like this?Thank you, I’ll try not to be a burden? Thank you, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me since I’m nothing to begin with? Thank you, I’ll be sure not to open my mouth and offend you with any autonomy?She blinked back the stinging tears and turned to where Nikator was still standing with Minos and His Majesty.
How long would it take for him to come back? She needed him to take her away?—
Her breath nearly caught in her throat.
What was she thinking? Since when did she see him as a … safe place? She must have truly lost her mind if she thought thatbrute was anything other than a murderous, horrible fiend that would surely lead to her demise. He wasn’t her savior. And she shouldn’t have been looking for him for help.
Nikator’s gaze cut through the distance and locked on her. Her heart stuttered, time seeming to slow as those sapphire blue eyes narrowed to slits. A broiling heat seared her chest and fury danced in her chest, sweltering enough and sharp enough that it confused her—because shewasn’tangry, and yet she could feel it writhing beneath her skin, curling in the pit of her stomach.
Nikator said something to His Majesty and then he was walking toward her, his expression shuttered. Minos called out to him, but he either didn’t hear or was intent on ignoring him. When he stepped into the pergola, she realized he was absolutely livid. Nothing on his face overtly gave it away, and yet she could pick up the way the muscle on his jaw feathered, the way his eyes blazed.
Nikator stopped a few feet away from her and his face twisted into a scowl, his withering stare set pointedly on Jian’s hand still pressed on her thigh. There was an animalistic, feral gleam in those jewel-like eyes that reminded her of blue flames, hot enough to incinerate his foes and bright enough to draw in anything admiring their beautiful light.
“Get your fucking hand off her,” he growled.
Jian flinched and withdrew, but then his brows drew together as if confused that he had abided by Nikator’s command. But how could he not listen? Any sane person would cooperate, because he looked ready to murder. The flash in his eyes was sinister. A promise of violence.
Biyu remembered the corpses he had laid out in front of the palace and their carved-up bodies—this man was capable of viciousness, and anyone who thought otherwise was a fool.
Nikator jerked a thumb toward one of the twisting paths they had taken to arrive here. “It’s time for you to go back to your chambers, Princess Biyu.”
Relief flooded through her and she readily jumped to her feet. “Ah. Did His Majesty give permission?”
“Yes. Let’s go now.” He sent a dark look at Jian, who glared back.
Without another backward glance, she scurried after Nikator as he stomped out of the pergola, only pausing to give a nod to Daiyu and then to Muyang, who watched from afar with Minos. Biyu kept her head low, her hands pressed together as she mimicked the bows and then trailed behind him. She could feel Jian’s gaze burning into her, but she refused to look at him.
It wasn’t until they were far away from everyone’s prying stares and gossips that she was able to breathe in relief.
But still, his serrated words rang through her mind.
Whether you live, die, or remain as a prisoner, nothing will change. Nobody will notice, or care.
18
