“I never really got along with any of my siblings.” Her voice echoed in the quiet room and she grasped his hand in both of hers. She turned his hand and touched each of the callouses on his palm. “It’s strange how I have—had—so many siblings, and yet none of us cared for one another or knew one another. And now there’s only the four of us left. Me, Liqin, Daewon, and Yat—” Her throat closed up as she remembered what had happened to Yat-sen. “Oh, well, the three of us, I suppose. But Daewon is too young to remember what it was like before the throne was usurped by our father. It’s probably better this way, anyway.”
Biyu continued to prattle on about court life while she was a child. About how her mother never cared about her or never gave her any attention because she had been born a girl. About how her mother had tried to have another child with the emperor—a son—but because Father had barely looked her way, it was hard to spend time with him, much less become pregnant. She told him how her mother had died from sickness a few years before the usurpation, but Biyu hadn’t even noticed her absence since she hadn’t been involved in her life in the first place.
The more she spoke, the more she realized that even as a child, she had been a prisoner in her own home. She had been isolated from her siblings, had no relationship with her parents, and had only had a rotation of servants and palace guards to keep her company. She had always been lonely.
“I wonder what it would have been like if we had met as children? Would we have loathed each other or been friends?” She could imagine him as a child with long red hair, bright blue eyes that were innocent of the world’s cruelty, and a mischievous smirk. She could also imagine herself shadowing him, curious at whatever adventure he wanted to go on. But then her imagination shifted, and she could see a red-haired child with black eyes like hers. And then a dark-haired child with fierce blue eyes. It took her a second to realize she was imagining what their children would look like.
Children.
Theirs.
She covered her face with her hands to suppress the urge to burst into tears. How could she even think of children in this situation? It wasn’t possible for them to have a future together like that. They couldn’t be married in the outside world—beyond the magicked bond—and they couldn’t live together like a happy family. She had betrayed him, while he was planning on turning her in to the emperor—thatwas their future. Separated.
A soft caress on her knee made her jerk her hands away. She stared at where Nikator’s hand rested by her knee. Had it been her imagination? Surely, he hadn’t moved?
But then it happened again. His finger twitched. So slight, but it made her heart pound. She inhaled sharply, watching, then glanced over at his still face.
She waited with bated breath.
Then, his eyelids fluttered.
“Nikator?” Hope filled her and she searched his face for more movement. Ever so slowly, his hand twitched again, and his eyelids lifted slowly. A soft groan released from him and he squinted, as if the light was bothering him.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
He was alive. He wasawake.
“Nikator,” she sobbed, holding onto his hand and cradling it to her chest.
“You didn’t run,” he whispered weakly, his gaze searching her face as if imprinting it into his memory. He raised his hand out of her grasp and wiped a tear rolling down her cheek. “You stayed.”
“I would never leave you like that.” She threw her arms over him and cried against his chest, making sure not to put all of her weight on him.
He weakly placed a hand on her lower back.
“I thought you were going to die.” Her voice cracked and she could barely get the words out.
One of her greatest fears these past few days had been thinking that he would never wake. That he would be stuck in this comatose state forever. That thejiangshibite had altered him completely and rendered him undead.
His hand tangled in her hair and he murmured hoarsely, “I’m not planning on dying any time today.”
“Or tomorrow. Orever.” She sniffled, embracing him even tighter. “You scared me.”
“How many days has it been?”
“I don’t even know. Maybe a week?”
“Do you have water?”
Biyu quickly went over to the pitcher she had filled that morning and poured a cup for him. She helped ease his head up and gave him some, which he tentatively sipped. When he’d had enough, she sat beside him while he lay down. Despite being asleep the entirety of the week, he appeared haggard and unrested.
His gaze flicked over to her and she couldn’t read his emotions anymore. They sat in a silence that lingered and grew with every passing second. Biyu wasn’t sure why an uneasenestled between them, but the heartfelt reunion seemed to wither, replaced by a coldness.
“Nikator? Is … is everything all right?” She laced her hands together; for some reason, she got the impression that he didn’t want to be touched.
“Did you want me to survive so you wouldn’t die?” His voice came out clipped, detached, and wintry.
She didn’t immediately understand what he meant, but then it dawned on her. He thought she had only remained here to ensure he lived so that she would live, since the bond made it that if one died, the other would too. She was too stupefied to answer.
