Muyang glanced over sharply, and a burst of shadows erupted from her brother’s hand. The emperor jerked back. More shadows whipped out from Yat-sen as he struggled to his feet. Muyang expertly stepped back, a greenish-opaque magicalbarrier erecting itself in front of him as a barrage of shadows attacked him.
“Biyu, stay back!” Yat-sen’s clothes had splotches of blood all along the sleeves and the front. He wavered where he stood, blinking at Muyang. “Stay?—”
“Nik, don’t attack.” Muyang’s voice rang loudly in the room.
“Why not?” Nikator said from where he stood a few feet away from Biyu. His hands curled tightly around the hilts of his blades. She could see that he was itching to fight Yat-sen; the tendons on his neck stood out as he clenched his jaw.
He didn’t even look at her. Like she wasn’t even there. Or maybe he couldn’t stand to see her face.
Muyang and Yat-sen began striking one another again; her brother ducked and dodged, but his movements were sluggish. Muyang kicked him in the abdomen and he flew backward, slamming into the wall and coughing up blood.
“Because I’ve got this,” Muyang finally answered—not even close to out of breath.
He straightened his shoulders, and Biyu’s heart trembled in fear. He was powerful. She had thought that maybe the years without combat had dulled his senses and his magic. She had hoped that being on the throne had made him complacent. But the years had done nothing but perhaps hone his skills; heavy magic rolled off him in waves, pervading the dense air and making it harder to breathe. It nearly choked her.
Muyang tore off his outer robe until he was garbed in a simple black tunic and pants, which were more mobile than his ceremonial emperor attire. Muscles rippled over his impressive frame and his hair crown glinted gold in the light.
Yat-sen struggled to stay upright while Muyang launched at him, striking his face and chest with blackish-purple flames running along his fists and forearms. Her brother barely erected barriers on time, stumbling back with every forceful attack.
Biyu grasped the door frame for support, her legs turning to lead.
Drakkon Muyang was more than just a villainous emperor; he was a feral, powerful beast that thirsted for blood. He wanted this—to fight Yat-sen, to maybe even have a legitimate reason to kill him.
They were in over their heads to have thought that a simple spell would be enough to stop this monster.
Biyu grasped at her magic and called it forth. The familiar buzz of power warmed her flesh and she flexed her trembling fingers. Warmth built on her fingertips until violet flames burst in her hand.
She didn’t even know what she was doing, but she ran forward, hands outstretched as if to burn the emperor where he stood. She had only taken three steps when a hard body crashed into hers and she fell face forward. Her knees slammed the floor and she was shoved down. Nikator twisted her wrists behind her back and kept her pinned to the floor. She struggled to break free, but he only tightened his hold on her.
“Let me—” she began.
“Stay out of this,” he hissed into her ear.
Biyu tried elbowing him, but she could barely move and it only connected with air. He applied more pressure to the point that it was uncomfortable, but not necessarily painful. At least not yet.
“Stop this.” Biyu’s eyes filled with unexpected tears and she blinked them away. Just hours ago they had been in each other’s arms, and now they were enemies once more. The line was drawn, and there was no going back. And yet she hated how her heart cracked. “Nik?—”
“Don’t say another word.” The pure vitriol in his voice made her flinch. She was glad she couldn’t see his expression, and yet she could feel an inkling of pain through the bond, but it wasonly for the barest moment. And then it was gone. Like a stone wall was erected between them.
“Nik,please.”
“What do you want from me?” His words lashed out violently. “Do you want me to send you off to fight so you can get yourself killed? Don’t forget that I would die too, princess.”
He was purposefully being mean, she knew that—likely masking the betrayal he felt with bitter words—and yet they stung nonetheless.
“Just let me go!” Her shout was drowned out by a loud crash. She craned her neck up in time to see Yat-sen slide down a pillar, blood following in a streak against the jade-colored paint. All the air was sucked out of her lungs. Yat-sen’s body slumped awkwardly, his eyes wide and dazed.
“No,” she thrashed against Nikator, but he held her firm, not allowing an inch of freedom. “No!”
Muyang’s expression was dark, unforgiving. He walked over to her brother slowly, each step echoing loudly. When he reached him, he knelt down and spoke quietly to him. Her ears strained to listen, but she couldn’t make out the words. Not from the constant shouts behind them in the hallway, or the blood rushing to her ears, or the crackling of Muyang’s shadowy magic swirling around him protectively.
She watched in stark horror as the emperor grabbed her brother by the collar, yanked him to his feet, brought him close to say something in his ear, and then tossed him aside like a rag doll. Yat-sen collapsed to the floor a few feet away. He sputtered, globs of thick blood flying from his bloodied mouth.
Biyu didn’t even realize she was screaming until her throat felt raw. She struggled against Nikator, and surprisingly, he released her. She crawled a few steps, rose to her feet, fell again, and struggled to her brother.
He was barely breathing.
She couldn’t focus on anything but him.
