Page 118 of Empire's Curse

They all nodded, and even Bohai was staring at her strangely.

Finally, he too bobbed his head.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he murmured.

It didn’t even click to her the title he had used. It was only when she left the bedchambers and headed down the hallway, her head held high and her resolve steeling itself with every step, that she realized she was either one step closer to becoming a proper empress, or another step closer to becoming a widow.

40

Daiyu hada vague idea where Feiyu was located. He had given her the hint when he had whisked her away to the mountains on the last day of the festival, but her biggest problem, other than figuring out how not to break her neck while riding a horse, was finding hisexactlocation. Because as it was, the mountains were, unsurprisingly, extremely vast.

She must have been clopping through every trail she could, listening to the sound of creek water or streams and crickets and birds—and whatever other magical sounds Feiyu had mentioned he enjoyed—when she finally dismounted her horse and began her trek on foot. It was possible, she guessed, that he was somewhere where the horse didn’t want to go.

Through her jaunt, her mind traveled to everything that had conspired the past few days. Muyang choosing Yanlin, Feiyu’s strange goodbye, Muyang’s parting words about destroying the empire if he continued his reign, and his love toward Daiyu. The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. Why did Feiyu wear a mask at all times? Why was Muyang’s soul dying? What did Feiyu have to do with it? Did Feiyu do this to Muyang?

All she knew with clarity was that she had to save the man she loved. She wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing whileMuyang’s soul slowly withered away. There were so many memories they needed to create. So many things they needed to discuss. So many … firsts they needed to do.

“Feiyu!” she shouted with labored breaths, glancing right and left. She also wasn’t sure what Feiyu looked like right now—was he in a human form, dragon form, or some other form he could shapeshift into? Nonetheless, she stared through the trees and rocky bumps for anything amiss, for any animal that was acting strange or any boulder that looked like it didn’t belong. “Feiyu!”

Pushing aside a swaying branch in her way, Daiyu climbed the steep mountain path. Her thighs burned with exertion and her breath streamed out of her shallowly. Her ankles weren’t used to all this hiking and her the soles of her feet were aching with every sharp rock, twig, and thorn she inadvertently stepped on. Her dried-grass sandals were barely hanging on by the time the sun began to dip into the horizon, painting the trees and boulders and terrain in orange-pink hues.

“Fei—” Her foot caught on a gnarled tree root and she flew forward. Daiyu raised her elbows instinctively to break her fall, but her knees slammed onto a pile of tiny rocks and pebbles first and she skidded down the unpaved trail. She screamed—her hand and knees and elbows scraping along the rough, rocky terrain.

She kept tumbling, the twigs and bramble catching on her hair and ripping it out of its low bun. Her fall was finally broken when she crashed into a large boulder surrounded by thorny bushes.

For a few seconds, she just lay there, breathing hard and staring up at the saffron-and-peach-tinged skyline. Her eyes filled with frustrated tears and she shakily pulled herself into a sitting position. The skin along her arms and knees was raw and shredded, and her dirt-coated dress was ripped in some sections.

A sob tore from her throat and she covered her face with her trembling, dusty hands. It wasn’t until that moment, when she was twisted in thorny bushes and littered with dozens of cuts and bruises that the reality of the situationreallyhit her.

Her husband was dying.

Her friend had turned into a dragon and disappeared.

And she was no closer to finding him and saving Muyang than she was a few hours ago.

She had been so naïve to think she could easily find Feiyu just because he had shown her this place before and because he had always been accessible to her before—all she had to do was call his name in the palace and he would show up. She had taken that for granted: being able to see him whenever she wanted to.

And now, when she needed him the most, she had no clue where to even begin.

Daiyu picked at the spiky, knotted bushes stabbing her at every corner and did her best to untangle herself from it. Tears blurred her vision and she choked back her sobs. Muyang was dying. He was dying and there was a good chance there was nothing she could do about it. Here she was, stuck in the mountains, battered red and blue, instead of being with her bedridden husband.

Maybe she should have left this task for one of thePeccata. Maybe Atreus, or Nikator, or that young demon with red eyes. Maybe she should have waited by Muyang’s side while everyone else worked to find Feiyu.

Releasing a wobbly breath, Daiyu continued up the path she had just slid down from. Her breaths came in shaky half-sobs, and the evening wind blew against her damp cheeks. It would have been easier to run back to the palace and tell everyone she had failed in finding Feiyu—nobody would have faulted her—but she kept pushing herself.

One leg in front of the other. One foot, then the other, then the other.

Her lungs were on fire. Her face grew numb with cold. Her feet throbbed painfully. But she kept pushing herself forward.

One breath, one staggered step at a time.

It didn’t matter that she was a farm girl. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t a noble. It didn’t matter that she would likely nevertruly fit into Muyang’s court. If there was one thing she was certain about, it was that she wasn’t going to give up on Muyang or Feiyu. And she didn’t need to be someone important to be Muyang’s wife, or Feiyu’s friend, or someone who climbed this cursed mountain to find her dragon-turned friend.

Daiyu kept walking, even when the sun sank down the horizon, even when she couldn’t see in front of her. She brushed her hands along the rocks, the boulders, the trees, and whatever she came across. It wasn’t until she reached one of the flatter, higher levels of the mountainside that she halted to a stop. The wind tousled her unkept hair and she could taste the electrifying, heavy magic in the air.

She turned toward it and hurried her steps, her eyes adjusting to the dark blobs and shapes in the night. She kept climbing higher, and higher, and higher up the trail. Finally, when the magic was the strongest, and she could practically breathe in the fogginess of it, she came to a halt.

Curled up in a ball, a giant, moon-drenched dragon lay on the ground, his eyes closed and his heavy head resting on his arms. His scales shimmered silver in the light and her breath caught at the sight of them—at how beautiful he was, at how his wings seemed to reflect the moon.

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