Page 21 of Empire's Curse

“I called you here to have a meal together.” His voice came out clipped and devoid of emotion, so unlike the amused tone he had used in their previous encounter. Gone was the curious man and in his place was someone cold—so very cold that she shook where she stood. “If I wanted you to stand in the corner, shivering like a fawn, I would have called forth another maid to decorate the wall. Come forward andsit.”

Daiyu’s legs moved on their own and she eased down onto the cushion across from him. Her stomach growled as the smells of garlicky meat, ginger, spices, and soy sauce pervaded the room, even as her appetite fled from her.

“Must I tell you to eat too?” he said, his voice growing more detached—morebored—and almost like he was losing patience with her.

This time, Daiyu lifted her head and she inhaled sharply as those black eyes were set on her. Something dark and sinister seemed to reflect off the obsidian void lying there, and she quickly averted herself to stare at her empty porcelain bowl.

She found her voice, though it came out in a squeak. “Thank you for the invitation, Your Majesty.”

He didn’t bother acknowledging her response and instead picked up a chicken drumstick and bit into it. His free hand thumbed the dark ruby cast inside the hilt of his jade sword. It reminded her of blood for some reason, and another tremor ran down her body. There was no reason to have a weapon at the table—especially not in front of someone like her.

Unless he doubted her.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight and she stiffly reached for the closest dish to her—stir-fried spinach doused in a brown sauce with diced garlic and red peppers—and filled her bowl. If she didn’t eat, or annoyed him further, she was sure he would lop her head off right then and there. He must have been testing her, and by the way he was growing more bored of her—she feared she was failing.

She piled sticky white rice into her bowl and ate the foodsilently. She barely tasted the rich sauces of the meal or the soft, chewy rice.

“How are you enjoying your stay at the palace?” He was watching her again, and this time she couldn’t stop herself from meeting his gaze. Every pore in her body froze. There was a coldness about him that made him appear undead. A power that clung to him that made even the weight of his stare feel like cloying death. “You said you would love to become my concubine because of thiswonderfulpalace, didn’t you? Well, are you enjoying it?” His words came out in a sneer, and she realized she had offended him.

“I-I—” She couldn’t formulate any words, and the room seemed to disappear altogether until it was just the two of them and his shiny sword sitting way too close to her. “Th-the palace is beautiful, but I’ve been confined to only my room. Um, I … I hope I didn’t offend you, Your Majesty?”

“Offend me?” He narrowed his eyes and then leaned back. “Of course not. Though it isn’t every day that I’m met with a woman who’s honest in her interest of my possessions rather than me.”

She waited for him to reach for his sword and aim it at her—her body erect with anticipation—but he didn’t. He continued to eat, his attention never straying from her.

Daiyu shoveled more food into her mouth. Maybe the faster she ate, the faster this entire ordeal would be over. She had hated the boring, monotonous stay in her palace room, but now she wanted nothing more than to run there and hide under the covers.

“Yin Daiyu, who are you?”

When she raised her head, she froze when the pointed edge of a dagger was inches from her face. Muyang’s elbow was propped on the low table, and his chin rested on his closed fist, while he held the dagger precariously with his other hand. He appeared unbothered, uninterested, and wholly untrusting as he watched her with narrowed, obsidian-like eyes.

“I requested to find more information about you, littlerabbit.” There was a teasing quality in his voice, like he seemed to take delight in the fear that suddenly swamped her. “But then I came up blank. All the records we have of the women who were brought to my palace show that there is, in fact,noYin Daiyu.”

Daiyu couldn’t rip her gaze from the dangerous glint of the dagger’s blade. She felt like if she breathed, it would be her last.

“That either tells me that you’re lying about who you are”—the cold tip of the dagger touched her throat, and he gently traced the column of her neck up—“or that you’re a spy sent here to kill me. Which is it?”

The dagger dug into her throat and she gasped abruptly as sharp pain pricked her. She could feel the bead of warm blood running down her neck, and he followed the trail it created, his eyes growing impossibly dark.

“Th-There must be a mistake,” she whispered, tears of fear filling her eyes suddenly. Her breathing became erratic as he moved the blade down further until it touched the lapel of her dress. “I?—”

“A mistake?” Muyang chuckled, and a wave of wild, chaotic, and sinister energy seemed to reverberate from the small gesture. “That wasn’t one of the options I gave you.”

“Please! I know there’s a mistake,” she rushed, just as the edge of the blade touched her sternum between her breasts. She breathed in, her chest rising with the motion, and he stared down at her uninterestedly. “My sister was originally supposed to be taken, but I swapped places with her before she arrived at the palace. Believe me, I’m telling the truth,” she said in a quick sentence. “You should have her information in the records. Yin Lanfen. Look her up,please.”

He paused his tracing and scrutinized her coldly, and for a moment, she was afraid he wouldn’t believe her small lie, but then his attention flickered to the servant on one side of the room—who Daiyu had completely forgotten was there. He gave her a nod, and the woman pulled out a scroll from her sleeve.

“If you’re lying,” he murmured, his beautiful voice lulling between seductive smoothness and a feral coldness, “your heart would make a beautiful adornment in my collection.”

Daiyu’s lower lip trembled. “I’m telling the truth.”

The only noise between them was the unfurling of paper as the maidservant expanded the scroll further. Muyang kept the dagger on her chest, and he watched the rise and fall of her breasts with something akin to untamed desire—the first sign of interest he had shown her. She didn’t even want to think about what he was thinking—about slicing her chest open and ripping her heart out.

Finally, the maidservant spoke. “I don’t see a Yin Lanfen?—”

Daiyu’s blood ran cold.

“Ah? No Yin Lanfen?” Muyang’s mouth curved up and the tip of the dagger pressed into the bony part of her sternum. “You?—”

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