“No,” Nikator growled, stepping forward protectively in front of her. Fury made his voice harsher, lower, and his rage and magic radiated off him in powerful, dangerous waves. It clashed with Muyang’s. “You willnottouch her.”
Muyang only nodded slowly, as if he had expected as much, and shifted the blade to Nikator. “Then you shall die.”
“I would rather die than her.” He lifted his chin and stared levelly at the man who had raised him, taught him to fight, taught him everything about being ruthless, merciless, and lethal. “Do it.”
“Take me instead,” she blurted. “Don’t hurt him!”
“No, Biyu.” Nikator peered down at her with blazing blue eyes. “You’re free to go, Biyu. So go.”
“No!” She tugged on his arm, but he didn’t budge. Tears streamed down her face and her voice grew shrill. “Please, please, don’t do this!”
“Live a good life,” Nikator said quietly. He grazed her cheek briefly, his fingers skimming over her tears. And then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, murmuring in her ear, “I love you.”
“Firstly, I’ll have to break the magicked bond,” Muyang started.
Horror sliced through her chest. She didn’t want the bond broken—it would symbolize more than their union breaking; it would mean their lives were no longer linked by something greater, no longer considered husband and wife by the ancient magic, that their fates were shattered.
This couldn’t be happening.
This must have been a nightmare.
This couldn’t be happening.
Nikator stepped forward. “I’m ready.”
“You can’t!” Biyu threw herself in front of Nikator until the sharpened tip of Muyang’s shadow-cloaked sword was pointed at her throat. She held her arms out defensively, as if that was enough to shield him from Muyang’s wrath. “Take me instead. Please, show some mercy!”
Muyang lowered his sword just as Nikator grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. His lips parted to say something—likely to tell her to stop this nonsense—but she wrenched out of his grip and fell on her knees in front of Muyang’s feet. She touched the floor and lowered her head, her entire body wracking with sobs.
“Please! Please, please. Take me instead! I can’t—I can’t have him die. That is worse than death! Please show mercy, please!” The words came out in a rush, her sobs breaking through the words. She tried to stop from weeping so loud, so incoherently. “Please, I beg of you.”
Silence stretched between them. The only sound was her sharp inhales as she tried to control her cries, and the crackling of Muyang’s magic. For a moment, everything was too still.
“One of you must die,” he said simply.
Her face crumpled and she lifted her teary eyes. He was glaring down at her. And why shouldn’t he? She had attempted to kill him and then outsmart him. And now he was going to take away the one person who gave her joy in this wretched place. He would rather lose his loyal warrior than see her walk free without any guilt or satisfaction. He would rather break her heart than kill her. Maybe he’d realized it was a more fitting punishment.
“Muyang—” Nikator began.
“Silence.” The emperor’s voice cracked like thunder and he turned his narrowed eyes to him. “You have disappointed me, Nikator. You’ve lost the privilege of speaking my name or looking in my eyes. I am your emperor.Bow down.”
A wave of power shot from him and Nikator’s knees buckled. He fell to the floor, his knees cracking on the hard, polished wood, and lowered his head, his fists clenched tightly to his sides.
Muyang scowled at both of them, his attention flicking over to the other people in the room. Biyu had forgotten they had a small audience. Li-ling’s usually cheery expression was carved from stone, as if she had seen a scene like this play out already. Minos, Thera, and Atreus appeared shocked, but otherwise compliant. Bohai looked unamused, unimpressed, and thoroughly disgusted—perhaps he didn’t like the display of cruelty. Maybe he had more of a heart than Muyang or Li-ling did.
“Very well,” the emperor continued in a smooth voice. He slammed his sword down beside him and it splintered through the wooden floor. He then unceremoniously fell down on histhrone, waving at them both. “Prove to me how much you love each other. Both of you will fight each other.”
A fight? That was easy. Relief pooled in her chest. Nikator could easily beat her. It would be like child’s play to him.
But then his next words hollowed out her chest.
Muyang smiled wickedly, knowingly. “The winner will die.”
42
The winner would die.
He … truly didn’t want to make this easy for her, did he? The only way she could make Nikator live was by defeating him in battle, but how could she best him in that? He was brutal, powerful, unmatchable.
