But more than that, Biyu mourned the relationship she had severed. Her heart broke into a million pieces and she hated how horrible she felt in that moment. She kept talking about how everyone was such a monster, but she was the biggest one.
She hadn’t even realized Liqin was carrying years of trauma and pain caused by their evil father. She hadn’t thought to reachout to her. She hadn’t ventured to think that maybe her sister’s ire toward the world was deeper than just being imprisoned.
She hadn’t even thought to ask Nikator for his help. She had written him off as her enemy since the beginning.
She had thought of Drakkon Muyang as a wicked man when it was clear that he loved his wife, their unborn child, and the Peccata. He held his allies close, but she’d chosen to ignore that. She’d chosen to ignore that by killing him, she would have been putting all of those people in danger.
Biyuwas the monster.
33
Biyu must have hadsand or crushed glass beneath her eyelids, because her eyes were gritty and stung every time she blinked. The blinding sunlight made it worse. She had silently sobbed the entire night; she wasn’t even surewhy.
Was it because she was guilty for what she’d done to Nikator and how she had ruined their relationship? Was it because she had failed on her mission and as a result, Yat-sen had died? Was it because she had been captured and would be killed soon? Or was it because she couldn’t stand the way Nikator coldly looked at her like he didn’t even know her?
Or was it an amalgamation of everything?
Biyu rubbed her aching eyes; they were probably red and swollen, but if Nikator cared, he didn’t show it. Judging by the darkness rimming his eyes, which appeared an even brighter shade of blue against the contrasting shadows, he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. Maybe her weeping hadn’t been as quiet as she had hoped, but he hadn’t offered her any comfort if he had heard it.
Biyu combed her hair with her fingers and watched as Nikator tended to the small pot above the roaring flame. He stirred what appeared to be a thin rice porridge with slices ofdried tofu mixed in. He yanked out a small satchel and poured the contents into the pot; shriveled, dried mushrooms floated to the top of the food, and he submerged them with the wooden spoon. The smell made her stomach rumble.
She shifted on the floor, hoping he would say something or break the tense silence, but he made no move to do so.
It was unbearable. At least back in the palace she’d received the occasional dry response here or there. Was this how it was going to be the entire way back to the palace? Silent, awkward, and with the kind of tension that made her want to scream at him tolookat her?
Don’t ignore me, she wanted to cry.Please, just look at me.
She would only need to endure until she found a way to break away from him. The thought made her chest clench even tighter. Despite how coldly he was treating her, she didn’t want to part from him. It was a twisted, strange, conflicting desire; especially since he would be handing her off to die.
“Where did you learn to cook?” she blurted out when she couldn’t handle the quietness anymore.
Nikator didn’t even look at her. The only indication that he heard her was the slight pause in his stirring before he continued. “On the road.”
“What do you mean? Like when you traveled for your … warrior activities?” She sounded ridiculous to her own ears; she had no idea what he did on a day-to-day basis when he was out doing missions for the emperor.
“No.”
She waited for his response; when it didn’t come, she prodded, “Well?”
He sighed like she was an annoyance.
Biyu chewed on her lower lip, waiting.
Finally, he muttered, “I traveled as a child a lot. I picked it up from Muyang and Bohai; though Muyang was always a lousycook. You could tell he was a royal even though he hadn’t been a prince in a long time. Bohai was always better at it. Fang didn’t even try. Han … well, he burned everything he touched. And then I picked up some tips from Li-ling?—”
He clamped his mouth shut and stared at the bubbling breakfast. His scowl darkened and he picked up one of the bowls and ladled the mixture inside it.
Biyu had heard of all of those people. Commander Bohai was Drakkon Muyang’s right hand man, General Fang and General Han were close allies, and Li-ling was his cousin. She hadn’t realized that Nikator had known them all as a child. What had his childhood been like? She wanted to ask, but the expression on his face told her not to overstep.
Nikator sidestepped around the fire and handed her the bowl; their fingers brushed against one another, and he stiffened at the contact. Biyu’s heart ached when he pulled away and returned to his seat. She inadvertently touched her index finger where it had grazed his, and wished things could go back to how they used to be. Where touches were expected.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He ignored her.
She picked up the spoon he had placed inside the bowl and used it to scoop up the thin porridge. It tasted savory, with bits of the dried mushrooms having rehydrated and added a meaty texture, while the tofu had soaked up the subtle soy and shallot flavor.
The silence between them built; Nikator ate two portions of the porridge, his gaze traveling to the trees swaying with the gentle breeze. It took Biyu the same amount of time as him to finish her one bowl. It was delicious and simple, but her appetite was gone. Ever since escaping the palace, she hadn’t been able to enjoy her meals, even though she’d had more control over what she ate this past week.
