Nikator’s hand brushed over her elbow, a gentle tap to let her know he was there. She glared at him over her shoulder and snatched her arm away.
“What is it?” he asked when she scurried away and aggressively slid the rest of her scrolls and books into their designated spots. “You’re angry at me.”
“Why do you think?”
He sighed, again, and it stoked her anger even more.
She tried to feel for his emotions through the bond, but found she couldn’t. It was like staring into a blank canvas; was it true that they could share their feelings, or was it a fluke? She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Well?” she asked.
“You’re angry because …” His gaze trailed over to the dusty shelves framing them. “I didn’t tell you who Guo Zihao is.”
“Precisely.” She marched along the paths between the bookshelves.
“Why does it anger you so much? You don’t even like your sister.”
“I do like my sister?—”
“Who cares what happens with her? I’d say Zihao is in more trouble than she is,” he said with an eye roll. “Who would want to put up with her barbed tongue all day? You should know.”
Biyu’s cheeks warmed. “I understand my sister has her faults, but she’s my sister and I don’t like you talking badly about her.”
“All right, I won’t.” His frown told her how little he cared about her sister, and for some reason, that infuriated her. Sure, Liqin wasn’t the best of people, and she did have a rather sharp tongue, but she wasn’t a terrible person. She was terrified, imprisoned, and bitter—all traits that were understandable after being stuck in her room for five years straight with little interaction outside of it.
She followed the shelf and stared at spines of the books without reading any of them. Her mouth pursed and she found it hard to ignore the budding tension headache forming.
“You’re still worried,” he noted.
“Of course I am! My sister is married to an … an assassin!” She shivered at the word.
Nikator gave her a strange look. “Black Fang is loyal to His Majesty and this empire. They aren’t lowly thieves and bandits killing for a little coin. They work directly under him, for the better of this empire and this dynasty; they aren’t all that different from the Peccata. The only difference being that the Peccata is smaller, and made up of people who were raised by His Majesty.”
Biyu didn’t think that made her feel any better; if anything, it only reminded her that Nikator had done terrible things for Drakkon Muyang. How many people had he killed? But where she expected to find anger and disgust, she found nothing. Normally, the idea of his activities—the assassinations, spying, trickery, and battles—filled her with revulsion and fear, but now she felt virtually nothing. Maybe that said something about her, or maybe she was becoming used to the idea of getting her hands dirty.
She turned away from him. She didn’t want to face these confusing thoughts, so she asked instead, “Why did Vita give me a weird look?”
He wore a blank expression. “What face?”
“Surely you saw it?”
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
Biyu whirled around to face him, her face pinching together into a scowl. He must have known what she was talking about, and she was positive she hadn’t imagined it all. “Have you been able to feel my emotions all this time?”
Nikator stared at her for a beat longer, and it was all the answer she needed.
“Why haven’t I been able to feel yours? I’ve only been able to feel your anger from time to time,” she said with furrowed brows. “There’s no way you don’t feel anything, so why haven’t Ifelt anything from you? And what did Vita mean when she said it isn’t a problemfor you, but implied that itisa problem for me?”
They had spent so much time together the past week or two—particularly in each other’s arms and in bed—so maybe that was why she could read him better now. She could see the shift in his gem-like eyes, the subtle way his jaw tensed, and how his spine stiffened slightly. His attention darted to her clenched fists and then back to her face. To everyone else, he probably appeared stoic, unmoved, and unbothered. But she saw it for what it really was. Hesitation and grappling with an answer that would offend her.
She stepped closer until they were inches apart. She peered up at him with a deep frown. “Nikator, what aren’t you telling me?”
His knuckle grazed her cheek, a trail of heat following the motion. “Each Peccata member has … some magic they specialize in. Mine … Mine is effective in torture.”
Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Where are you going with this?”
“I’m able to …” Nikator shifted on his feet and she could see that this was difficult for him to talk about; none of them likely talked about their preferred magic much. “Wrench information out of people’s minds. As a result, I’m able to mentally block people from entering mine. I’ve always had a mental block on mine in case anyone ever tries to enter my mind. When I realized that we were both sharing our emotions through the bond, I fortified it. However, sometimes I couldn’t help when my rage would slip through. I’m … sorry for not being forthright with you.”
