Liqin stared at the ground. “It’s not fair that you—that you have a chance at—at?—”
“At what? A wealthy life?”
“Yes! He’s … he’s a lord—” Her words came out softer this time, less certain.
“He’s a horrible man, Liqin,” she said quietly. “And trust me when I say that you’ll live a happier life with a simple man than someone like Wu Jian.”
A deep sadness she couldn’t explain overcame her. She turned her face away and blinked away the unexpected tears pricking the corner of her eyes. She had always secretly hoped to have a relationship with her sister. She had read stories of sisters who stuck together and loved one another fiercely, wished good onto one another, wanted the best for each other. That wasn’t something she could see between her and Liqin, unfortunately, and that shattered a part of her heart that she didn’t even know existed.
Even imprisoned as they were, with no one on her side other than Biyu, Liqin still chose to make her an enemy—competition.
“I’ll be marrying him next week.”
Biyu’s head snapped in her direction. Liqin wasn’t looking at her, instead staring straight ahead. A tear rolled down her cheek, creating a streak over the powdery makeup she wore. She swiped her face with her sleeve, breathing out shakily.
“The emperor wishes to marry me to him so that I have no chance of ever obtaining importance. What other reason would he have to marry me to a … a …” She shook her head as if that could dispel her revulsion. “I suppose it’s better than a slow death here, but … I had hopes that …”
That they would one day be free.
One week wasn’t enough time for Biyu and Yat-sen’s plan to roll into effect. She tried to think of a way she could work faster toward their goal to spare Liqin of her fate, but she couldn’t come up with it. She still needed a deadly spell and a way to dispel the wards. Her heart sank.
“I’m sorry, Liqin.”
“For what?” She furiously wiped her tears away with her sleeve, her face pinched together.
“Because—”
“Is everything all right?” A quiet, calm voice called from behind them.
Biyu whirled to find Zihao, Liqin’s fiancé, behind them with a linen handkerchief in his hand. He held it out to Liqin, who stared at it with a look of disdain. His dark brows pulled together; his attention was entirely on his fiancée.
“Princess Liqin?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.
Jian folded his arms over his chest, sighing. “The sun probably got in her eyes, right?”
“Ah, yes.” Liqin didn’t bother sparing him another glance. “That’s what it was. Let’s get on our way, now.”
Zihao lowered the linen in his hand. “Are you certain? If you’re unwell, we can?—”
“I’m sure,” she barked.
Biyu cringed at the venom in her sister’s tone, but Zihao seemed unaffected by it, judging by his stoic expression.
“Very well,” he said, quietly.
They all fell into an awkward silence soon after that. Biyu laced her hands together to keep from fidgeting. She didn’t even want to be here with Liqin, Jian, and Zihao. She supposed the emperor had asked the men to take the sisters out for a walk so they could better acquaint themselves with one another, but she found it all unnecessary. She especially didn’t want to be around Jian, who gave her head-to-toe glances every now and then, which made her skin crawl.
“Princess Biyu,” Jian suddenly called. “Come here a moment.”
Her body tensed and she looked over her shoulder at him. Why was he ordering her around? She was surprised he’d even bothered to use her title, but the way he said it almost sounded mocking.
“Let’s walk here.” He pointed to a different path than the one they were headed on.
“I’d rather not?—”
“It’ll be good to have some alone time.”
“No—”
