Biyu’s feet ached the more she walked; her thin silk shoes were useless against the thorns, the branches, the bramble, and the thick underbrush. The heat beat down on her incessantly, and sweat pooled beneath her armpits, under her breasts, and down her face. She was thirsty and she should have been hungry, but her appetite alluded her.
The love she had shared with Nikator had died; she still remembered the way she had woken up to his arm around her waist, her back pressed against his bare chest. His embrace had been so warm—so comforting. She had loved waking up like that.
She had felt sosafewith him; it had been a long, long time since she had ever felt that way. So long, in fact, that she wasn’t even sure she had ever felt true safety than she did with him.
And she had ruined it.
All for an opportunity that had failed.
Every time she thought of his soft caresses, the way he would twirl her hair between his fingers and brush a kiss on her temple when he thought she was asleep, her throat constricted and a half-sob strangled her. For someone who was so powerful, so lethal, and so capable of killing, he was surprisingly gentle. With his words. His touch.
She was reminded of that cold look he had given her and her chest ached all over again.
Night fell and her eyelids grew heavy. Another hour passed before the trees began to thin and she entered a small town. She kept walking, legs heavy, eyes glazed. At some point, she foundherself in front of a building with smoke billowing from the chimney and a sign that read that it was an inn.
She tried pushing the door, but it was locked, so she knocked and waited. When nobody answered, she tried again, this time with a heavier hand.
“Please,” she murmured, numbly. “I need a room.”
Some noise came from behind the door, some shuffling, and then it cracked open. An older man peered at her, and then pulled it wider when he seemed to realize she wasn’t a threat.
Biyu rubbed her face. “I need a bed to sleep in, please. This … this is an inn, correct?”
“It is,” he said with a frown, squinting at her dress.
She likely looked strange, dressed in finery and yet with twigs and blood and sweat caking her like a second skin.
“Do you have money on you, little girl?”
“No.” Her shoulder dropped as the realization hit her; how was she going to do anything with her newfound freedom without any money? Would she have to look for a job? Or … what she even do at this point? What were her options?
He eyed her hairpin. “That’s gold, isn’t it?”
“Oh. Um, yes.” Her fingers danced over one of the hairpins and she slid it out, allowing one section of her hair to tumble down her shoulder. She held it out for him. “Will this be enough for a room?”
“That’ll be enough for the month,” he said with raised brows. “Is … is everything all right, miss?”
“Where are we?”
“Excuse me?”
“Which city is this?”
“Yucheng,” he answered with another suspicious look. “In State Rei.”
She was several states away from the capital; how had Yat-sen managed to send her this far? He must have wanted toensure that she could completely disappear. The thought both warmed and weighed down her heart; he should have warped himself. He had wasted it on her.
“I’d like to stay for … for a little while,” she said. Just until she figured things out.
He took the hairpin from her and ushered her inside. Everything happened in a blur afterward; he gave her a key to a room on the third floor, told her about what times dinner and breakfast were served, told her about the bathhouse at the back of the inn, and then left her alone to wander upstairs. There were only four paces between the bed and the door, making the space cramped and uninviting. The view from the window above was the only nice thing to look at; between the dusty sheets and the musty smell, it was a hard cry from her luxurious room in the palace.
This was her freedom, she told herself glumly.
As she stepped near the bed, her reflection caught in the corner of her eye from the handheld mirror that was propped up with two stones. She flinched at her appearance. She was bedraggled. Even in the dim candle lighting, she could make out the redness and puffiness in her eyes, and the grief and exhaustion on her face.
She looked terrible, and it reminded her too much of what she had done, so she shoved the stones away until the mirror fell back. A crack splintered on the edge of it, but she ignored it as she crawled under the covers.
She was too tired to care about anything right now. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed sleep to come and take her away from reality. But the empty space beside her only made her want to cry once more. Her hand stretched out onto the spot next to her, where Nikator should have been. Tears filled her eyes once more. This time, she wept quietly, her tears soaking through her pillow.
