The last thought made her want to vomit all over her plate. Dizziness washed over her and she was grateful she was seated, because she couldn’t feel her legs all that well, and her knees were bobbing against one another.
Drakkon Muyang rose to his feet ever so slowly, as if he relished in the attention everyone was poring over him, or perhaps because he liked to feel powerful as he peered down at everyone like they were dirt. The atmosphere shifted, his magic oppressive and suffocating as he swept a disinterested gaze over the crowds of his subjects. Finally, he turned to his wife and helda hand out to her. Daiyu slipped her hand in his and he helped her to her feet.
Being so close to the platform where they sat, Biyu could see the way his black eyes glittered as he stared at his wife, and the way they turned to cold chips of ice when he turned toward the people. Unlike him, Daiyu beamed and radiated warmth.
“I would like to announce that Her Majesty,” he continued in a smooth, velvety voice, “is carrying the Royal Heir.”
Gasps, applauds, prayers and congratulations erupted in the hall, and Biyu clapped her hands together softly at the news; she hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath, waiting for a macabre display of violence to occur, until that moment. She laced her fingers together as the emperor and empress eased back into their seats and the celebrations continued. People began going to the dais and giving their regards and congratulations upon the monarchs, while Biyu leaned against the dragon-embroidered cushions behind her and stared at her forgotten, half-eaten meal.
When she braved a glance around the room, she noted that Yat-sen was gone, seeming to have dismissed himself soon after the announcement. Biyu twisted her jade beaded bracelet and tried to ignore the guilt gnawing within herself; was her brother waiting for her somewhere? Would he be disappointed that she didn’t show up and wanted nothing to do with whatever horrible, failure of a plan he had concocted?
But there was no way she could go along with whatever he wanted. She didn’t want to be in a worse position than she already was in. She didn’t want to be locked away in the mage tower, being pricked, prodded, and torn to shreds with their torture methods, only for them to put her back together again, and repeat it.
Sweat slicked her back and she reached for her tea to calm her fidgeting nerves, but her hands shook so badly the now-cold tea sloshed over her fingers and onto the table.
Calm down!
She exhaled and wiped her hands on one of the linen cloths beneath her plate. She wasn’t going to leave the hall early like Yat-sen wanted. She didn’t need to listen to whatever he wanted. She should rush to her room and burn the paper he had slipped to her. She didn’t need anything tying herself to him.
But she could also imagine the worst happening to him; she could imagine his execution. She could imagine his bruised, battered, bloodied body contorted in unnatural positions. She could imagine his skin flayed off, his flesh bleeding, his face twisted in pain.
All because he dreamed of something as stupid as freedom.
She had to stop him, she realized. She couldn’t let him become an example of what happened when you went against the emperor.
Across the hall, Biyu noticed the Peccata sitting on a table near a group of mages. There were only six members of the group that Biyu knew of, and it seemed four of them were present right now—Vita, Thera, Minos, and Nikator. Even in the distance, they all stood out starkly. It was mostly because they were all foreigners, but also because everyone knew to be wary around his Majesty’s loyal blood-warriors. They were secretive in what they did—assassinations, spying, dirty work. They were all supposedly powerful, and Biyu could attest to that. She had seen Nikator in action all those years ago when he had helped His Majesty usurp the throne. She remembered the way his blade had sliced through the bodies of the most experienced palace guards. How dark, lethal power had thrummed from his being.
Nikator sat there with a scowl as Minos was saying something to the group. The latter was handsome, with wavy black hair and startling blue eyes, but his beautiful allure was just that. A glamour to hide that he was a bloodthirsty monster. Biyu had heard many maidservants giggling and gossiping about him, about bedding him and such. And she had also heard the palace guards talking about him—about how many people he had killed.
Vita and Thera, the only two women in the group—that Biyu knew of—were listening intently to whatever the male was saying. Vita lifted a light brown eyebrow, while Thera burst into laughter. The group almost seemed oblivious to the stares sent their way by passing guards, nobles, and mages. Everyone was curious about them, but too wary to interact.
Buy Biyu knew better; she could see the way they all glanced around the room. To everyone else, they probably appeared unaware, but they were watching everything. A thin layer of magic leaked from them continuously and spread throughout the room in waves, analyzing anything amiss. Watching. Waiting. Ready to strike at the drop of a hat.
As if he could sense her eyes on him, Nikator snapped his attention to Biyu. She inhaled sharply, unable to look away from the deep, sapphire blue of his eyes. It reminded her of blue fire; the same exact flames she used to love conjuring when she was still allowed to use magic—before her imprisonment. Even from this distance, dozens and dozens of feet away, she could make out the demonic gleam, the coldness, of his gem-like eyes, and the lack of soul reflecting in them. A shard of panic cut through her breastbone, digging into her heart. And yet, she couldn’t rip her gaze away. She was hypnotized. Paralyzed.
Minos clapped Nikator on the back, and that shattered their stare, because he glanced over at him. Biyu used that opportunity to jerk up to her feet and turn away. Her guardsbehind her jumped, and one of them appeared at her side instantly.
“Princess, are you leaving?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated, his attention lingering on the dais where the emperor and empress sat. Unease was written on his face even as Biyu collected herself and sidestepped around him.
“But, Your Highness,” he began.
“I’ve already greeted His Majesty,” she said as the other guard reluctantly trailed beside her. She could tell he wanted to enjoy the festivities, or maybe he was looking forward to talking to someone within the groups of people. Biyu only plastered a trembling smile on her face and ushered toward one of the exits. “Let’s go.”
The two guards exchanged glances; it wasn’t common for her to leave early at any event. In fact, she usually remained as long as possible, until someone had to force her out. She was always too anxious to leave early for fear it would draw Emperor Drakkon Muyang’s attention or suspicions. Thankfully, they didn’t argue, nor did they question her further as she quickly escaped the grand hall.
The noise of laughter, conversations, and overall revelries quieted to a hum the further Biyu walked down the corridor, which was the opposite direction of her room. She had purposefully chosen the exit that would take the longest route back. If Yat-sen had been brazen enough to send her a note and tell her to leave early, he must have had a way to communicate with her. The question was—would it be better to take a long way back to allow him to create a diversion and pass a note to her, or was he waiting for her in her bedchambers?
“Princess, isn’t it better to go this way?” The older, grayer guard motioned to a hallway they had just passed by.
Biyu didn’t miss a beat—even though her heart was thrumming like a loud drum and wasdefinitelyskipping a few beats. “I’d like to stretch my legs a little bit and walking helps with digestion, as I’ve eaten quite a lot this morning, so this is the best solution. With the festivities and all, I think it’s appropriate to fill our bellies.”
She said it with a bit too much enthusiasm and speed, but other than a raised eyebrow, the two guards didn’t question her or seem suspicious. She internally cringed at her own dialogue. What in the world was she even saying? Thankfully, silence stretched between them.
Biyu’s gaze bounced between the maidservants bustling down the halls with baskets of fruits and pastries, laundry, or cleaning supplies. She kept wondering if one of them would bump into her and pass another note, but it never happened. They would bow their heads in respect as they passed by, but that was the only recognition they seemed to give—they all seemed too caught up in their own tasks to pay her any mind.
