More than once, her mind traveled to the outside world, where the wind carried the scent of flowers. Where there were no strange men leering at her. Where she could breathe in peace.
Lin smiled at Biyu’s reflection in the mirror, seeming to admire her work. “You look beautiful, Your Highness.” She fussed with the hairpins and adjusted them so that the chains of the gold butterfly one dangled behind her head with her every head movement. “There. Perfect. I didn’t think I would be able to draw the makeup so perfectly—what, with these quaking, old hands of mine—but I think it turned out lovely. What do you think?”
“It’s …” She stared at herself blankly. “Beautiful. Thank you.”
There really was no use in beautifying her when she was simply a prisoner in this wretched gilded palace. Everyone looked at her with either pity or disdain—the former because of their kind hearts and possibly because they remembered the previous dynasty, and the latter because she was one of the last remnants of a dead dynasty that they would rather see snuffed out than paraded around.
Biyu fiddled with the wide end of her sleeve. She needed to mentally prepare herself for what was to come next; she always hated public events like this. Even before Emperor Drakkon Muyang usurped the throne, she’d hated being gawked at by father’s court.
“Come now, Your Highness,” Lin said. “You must go.”
She clutched the older woman’s arm, fear suddenly spearing her heart. “Promise me you will walk with me so I will not have to be alone with that man.”
The older woman blinked slowly, and then nodded.
Relief eased from her tightened lungs. “Thank you.”
They left the room, but it appeared Biyu’s fears were unfounded, because two different guards stood stationed by her door. They were older and she recognized them both; although they were firm, silent, and didn’t particularly like her, they had never tried anything lecherous with her. They were in the party who pitied her. She would be safe with them; at least she knew that for certain.
Still, the response to flee thrummed in her overactive body as she was led through the winding halls of the palace. Her throat constricted with every step, her head feeling heavier and her breaths coming shallowly as her nerves were pulled taut. She didn’t want to see the emperor, nor his vicious court. And she particularly didn’t want to see the Peccata, His Majesty’s lethal and loyal warriors.
When they reached one the grand hall of the palace, Lin bowed and left, and the guards flanking her escorted her inside. Dozens of people filled the room; nobles in fine silks, dripping with gems and gold, sat at long tables conversing with one another, palace guards in their imperial uniforms skirted the exits and entrances, and palace mages garbed in brilliant verdant robes mingled with the nobles. Beautiful yellow flowers—chrysanthemums, daffodils, and roses—decorated the space. Garlands were wound around the giant jade pillars on the sides of the hall. The vermillion and ink-black banners of the Drakkon dynasty hung from the tall ceiling, emblazoning the room.
At the dais in the front of the grand hall was a velvet couch where the emperor and empress sat. Drakkon Muyang was leaning into the couch almost lazily, his gaze flitting over his court with mild interest, that bored look etched onto his cruel, handsome face—he always looked like that, like he was waiting for something wicked, somethingexcitingto happen. Beside him, his wife, Yin Daiyu, sat with her hand resting on his as she whispered something in his ear. Biyu had met the beautifulwoman before, when Daiyu had asked whether Biyu knew any information about who was targeting her—it was later found out it was a jealous noblewoman.
Daiyu appeared … sweet. Uncharacteristic for this vicious, evil court. Biyu truthfully wished the poor woman, who had been a commoner before His Majesty chose her as his bride all those months ago, was able to survive here. As a princess, Biyu knew just how terrible all of these fake people with their fake smiles were.
Biyu strode her way to the dais, her heart thundering, her guards trailing behind her. It was customary for everyone to greet the emperor and empress first when entering any event or area where they were present.
She dropped to her knees, as did her guards, and placed a trembling hand to her chest. She didn’t want to meet the emperor’s midnight-colored eyes. Not that she was supposed to, anyway, but the few times she had accidentally met his gaze, a coldness so wretched and wintry had taken a hold of her soul that itburnedher.
“Good morning, Your Majesties,” she whispered.
Yin Daiyu perked at seeing her. “Good morning to you too, Princess Biyu,” she said. “Such a pleasant surprise to see you here. How are you? I hope you’ve been well.”
Biyu hesitated; she hadn’t expected to have an actual conversation here. She was supposed to bow down, greet them, and then scurry off to her designated table beside Liqin.
“I’ve …” Her voice trembled, nearly drowning away with the other conversations blooming around her. Her heart raced and she couldn’t find the words. She most certainly wasn’t all right. The memory of her rude awakening with Chao was still imprinted in her mind, and she couldn’t shake her unease, nor her desire to run far, far away.
She stared at the glazed tiles in front of her, her stomach twisting into knots. As if a fog had entered her mind, she found it hard to think, hard to breathe. The woman had asked her a simple, mundane question—how are you? And yet she couldn’t even think of a response.
What was she supposed to say in these situations?
Her breathing hitched; she could now feel the emperor’s attention shift onto her, no doubt wondering why she was silent. She licked her lips, tasting the cosmetics Lin had painted there.
How are you?
It was a simple question. She just had to open her mouth and sat that she was fine.
A gentle hand laid on her shoulder and she jerked her head up to find Daiyu standing in front of her. A concerned look flashed over her beautiful face, her eyebrows pulling together over her soft doe eyes.
“Princess Biyu? You don’t look well,” she said ever so quietly. “Please, get up.”
“I—I am well, thank you.”
Biyu hauled herself to her feet, the backs of her eyes burning. She could already hear Liqin’s razored response, which would certainly come once she sat down beside her. She was incompetent. Unable to even think when pressured.
Daiyu rubbed Biyu’s arm slowly, as if trying to return the color she had lost. “No need to feel so tense. I understand how debilitating it can be to be out here in public like this.” Her voice was low so only they both could hear, and a gentle smile graced her face. “I, too, felt nauseous when surrounded by so many people. I’m sure it’s even harder once it’s been a while since you’ve been in court.”
