“I carried out an investigation last night after you retired to bed,” he said smoothly, boredly, as he watched her with narrowed eyes. As if expecting to catch her in a lie or something, but she could only gape back. “I wanted to know if they were traitors; if they were purposefully allowing you to leave your room in the guise ofescaping. Instead, I found somethingveryinteresting. Would you like to know what it is? Or perhaps you can shed some light on it.”
A wave of nausea rolled over her. She had no idea what he was talking about, but what if the guards had said something that made her out to be suspicious? What if they had heard her talking to Yat-sen a few weeks ago and dropped a hint that they thought they’d heard voices in her room? What if they’d noticed something off about her while she was training? What if they had noticed something they had deemed small andinsignificant, but was rather incriminating to anyone who was paying attention—someone like Nikator?
“Princess?” Once again, that same mocking, arrogant cadence to his voice when he called her that title. It grated on her nerves as much as it struck fear through every sinew and nerve.
“What are you talking about?”
A muscle on his jaw feathered and he clenched his teeth together. “I assumed you wouldn’t say a word.” He released the door and paced back, and then jerked a thumb at her room. “Get dressed.”
“W-what?” Her hands trembled. Where did he want to take her? To the emperor? Had he found out she was conspiring with Yat-sen?
He glared at her, and that single look told her everything she needed to. She had to comply.
Biyu shut the door and pressed her back to it. Her pulse quickened and she couldn’t stop the shallow breaths that escaped from her. She had to remind herself to pace her breathing, else she’d hyperventilate and cause other issues. She wasn’t great at masking her emotions, particularly her anxiety, which seemed to have a tight grip on her these past few days.
After throwing on the first dress she found in her dresser, she made to leave, but then paused at the exit. She quickly ran back to her pillow, uncovered the scrolls, and instead stuffed them beneath her mattress so they were more hidden. Just in case.
Biyu hesitantly stepped out. Nikator was exactly where she had left him and upon seeing her, he headed down the hall, not waiting for her to follow. She shuffled behind him, not even trying to match his long strides; it was a small reprieve, delaying her doom. Nikator slowed in his steps, but still didn’t say a word.
They took various twists and turns, then descended a few staircases. Her anxiety slowly transformed to confusion, because they weren’t going toward the throne room, or even the magetowers. They were heading to the front of the palace. She couldn’t fathom why he would even want to take her there. The main entrance to the palace was always heavily guarded and eventually led to a gate to the heart of the capital.
Was he going to fling her out into the streets? Truthfully, she wouldn’t have minded such treatment. At least she’d be able to leave, but the thought also made her feel guilty, because Yat-sen was counting on her and she had prepared herself to fight the emperor. Though, the more she thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. The emperor didn’t want to release her and allow her to later have sons who would then threaten his reign; it was only a wonder she was even allowed to live in the first place.
The grand, main entrance of the imperial palace came to view. There was an entire wall of double doors that were flung open to reveal the courtyard before the main gate; servants, mages, and government officials all walked through and out the entrance. It had been a long time since she had come here, and it surprised her to see it as lively as it used to be.
Nikator causally strolled through the entrance and Biyu hurried after him, her attention darting to the lines of imperial guards with their gleaming spears and dragon-embroidered uniforms.
Outside, she noted a crowd had gathered, though she couldn’t see what they were circling. Hushed voices filled the courtyard and Biyu cast furtive glances at the people and then at Nikator; he was headed in the direction of everyone’s attention. She stared longingly at the entrance gate leading to the streets of the capital; the looming stone walls, the glazed jade tiles on the roof, the barricaded gate doors which were wide open for vetted personnel to enter … It had been a long, long time since she had come here.
“Princess.Princess.”
She had been so caught up in staring at the gates that she hadn’t even noticed Nikator until he was standing in front of her with an impatient look. He followed her gaze to the gates and his scowl deepened. “Planning another escape?”
Her cheeks heated and she frowned. “No, of course not! I haven’t been allowed anywhere but my room and the gardens for years, so I was just …” She clamped her mouth shut. Why did she need to explain herself to him? He wasn’t her keeper. And she didn’t need to justify looking at the imperial palace, or the gates, or anything, for that matter.
Nikator watched her with a carefully neutral expression, before jerking his chin toward the crowd. “Come on. I have something to show you.”
Without warning, he snatched her wrist and pushed through the masses with her in tow. She shrank within herself as he tugged her forward. Servants, guards, and nobles barely glanced their way; they were too entranced by whatever drama was unfolding at the center. What could be so interesting that made all these people pause and stare?
When they broke out through the circle of people, Nikator stopped abruptly and Biyu smacked into him—right on her nose. Tears inadvertently sprang to her eyes and she rubbed her face immediately, trying to lessen the impact. Why did he stop so suddenly? If she wasn’t so nervous about whatever he wanted to show her—something related to her being treasonous, no doubt—she would have grumbled at him to warn her if they were going to stop, or to at least not be directly in front of her like she was a mare he was leading. But whatever remark she had thought up disappeared when he sidestepped for her to better see whatever obstacle everyone was ogling.
A scream ripped from her throat and she stumbled back, only to be held up by Nikator; he held her by the waist, keeping her upright while her legs gave away, and the color drained from herface. She barely reacted to him, her eyes glued to the macabre scene in front of her. Her stomach clenched and she gagged; she was certain if she had eaten anything, she would have vomited all over herself, him, and the ground.
Three naked torsos were each impaled by giant metal spikes; they slowly slid over the blood-slicked rods that were jammed through their bodies, the tips poking through their severed necks. Dark blood caked over their chests, and there were gaping wounds where their heads and limbs had been attached, but were now crusted, bloody stumps with the bones sticking out. Their genitals had been sliced off, too, and were lying among a neat pile of arms, legs, and heads.
She screamed again, turning her face away. She hadn’t even realized she was clutching onto Nikator’s chest until he hooked a finger beneath her chin and raised her head up to stare at him. There was only hardness in his gaze; that, and something darker, something cruel.
“Look at them,” he said.
“N-no,” she whimpered.
“This is mygiftto you.”
Her face went slack as she stared up at him, not understanding what he was saying. “You …youdid this?”
He grasped her face in his hands, cradling her in a way that might have seemed sweet on the outside—like a man consoling his frightened lover—and yet only wickedness glittered in those eyes. He slowly turned her face until she couldn’t look away from the horrible way he had tortured and murdered these men.
“Look at their faces,” he said. “Do you recognize them?”
