Page 42 of Empire's Curse

“Your Majesty, if it isn’t too much trouble,” she said, dropping her head once more. “I would appreciate a bath, a change of clothes, and perhaps a meal.”

“Certainly.” He sidestepped around her and yanked the door open. He spoke to a few of the guards in the hallway and then came back inside. “Sit on the couch.”

Daiyu clambered to her feet and finally took notice of the rest of the room—the desk with neat stacks of letters and scrolls, the box-style wooden couch at the end of the room with carved dragons forming the legs, the large map of Huo against the wall with colorful pins stuck at certain locations. She sat down on the cushioned couch and examined the green, tiger-embroidered pillows by the armrests.

“Can you explain to me everything that happened?” Muyang eased himself onto the matching couch across from her and propped his elbows on his knees in a casual but intimidating pose as he leaned forward. “At the palace and with the thugs.”

Daiyu shifted in her seat, all too aware that she appeared much too dirty to be seated in front of the emperor. “Why do you ask?”

He blinked, as if not expecting that answer. “For manyreasons,” he said slowly. “For one, it’s interesting how you’re always caught up in some sort of trouble. And secondly, I’m curious to know how you left the palace without anyone noticing.”

Was he … suspicious of her?

“Your Majesty,” Daiyu said, barely controlling the rising anger in her tone. “I’m sure someone noticed I was missing, but since I’m simply a farmer’s girl who’s easily replaceable, they likely didn’t think it was important enough to inform you of the matter.”

Muyang reclined into the back cushions of the couch, his expression unchanging. “You’re not easily replaceable.”

“You don’t even know me, Your Majesty.” She rested her hands on her lap and resisted the itch to fidget with her sleeve. “And those servants in the palace don’t care much for me. I’m just one of many women who will be in your palace.”

The back of her eyes burned, and she didn’t know why. She didn’t want to be his wife—far from it—but she pitied the life of a noblewoman who would be tied to such a cruel man. A man who would never love her and who would replace her once she fulfilled his needs. A man who would take on dozens of dozens of women since she would never be enough. Daiyu didn’t want to end up like that.

“I didn’t realize you felt like no one cared in the palace,” he said, watching her carefully. “I’ll have to speak to the servants who serve you.”

An awkward silence filled the space between them and Daiyu found that she couldn’t meet his gaze—she didn’t like the way he was examining her as if waiting for her to shatter like glass.

“Explain to me what happened the day you were kidnapped.”

Before she could answer, a servant knocked on the door and promptly entered with a tray of tea and a plate of assorted nuts and diced fruit. He placed the drinks and the platter on the table, bowed, and left. Daiyu eyed the juicy, halved plums and her mouth instantly watered.

Muyang must’ve seen the hunger on her face because he waved to the food. “Take whatever you want. It’s for you, anyway.”

She picked up the silver chopsticks on the tray and picked up a piece of the plum, then plopped it into her mouth. The sweet fruit nearly melted into her mouth and she continued to pick at the rest of the food. Between eating and sipping tea, Daiyu recounted the entire incident since her kidnapping. Muyang listened attentively, his gaze never straying from hers. He didn’t interrupt her or utter a word and only nodded from time to time.

Finally, when she finished snacking—and realized with horror that she ate everything on the platter—and her story was finished, she set the chopsticks on the tray and folded her hands together in sudden embarrassment. “Well, that’s everything that happened,” she said, clearing her throat. “Oh! And?—”

She reached into the inner pocket of her cloak and pulled out the dragon dagger she had safely tucked in there. She held it out for him, her fingers wrapping around the cold dragon body of the hilt.

“Your dagger,” she said. “I retrieved it from the men. Well, to be more specific, Atreus defeated the man and I took it back from him, but in the end, it’s here.”

Muyang’s dark eyes flicked down to the silver blade and then back up at her. The corner of his mouth rose. “I didn’t think I’d see the day when the little rabbit pointed a dagger at me.”

Eyes widening, she hastily slapped the blade on the tea table. She hadn’t even realized she had been rudely directing the edge at him. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty?—”

“No, no. You’re fine.” He picked up the dagger slowly, his soft mouth still curved into a smirk. “I would like to see it more. You, holding a blade to my throat. It would be quite riveting.”

Daiyu could feel the blush clawing up her throat and singeing her cheeks. For some reason, it didn’t sound dangerous at all, but sensual. And she didn’t know what to make of that.

Muyang slipped the dagger onto his belt beside a short sword. “Take your cloak off.”

“Excuse me?” She grabbed the front of the cloak and tightened her hold on it as if he would rip it off her in the next second. Although she had hated every second in the sweat-soaked, bloodied thing, she didn’t want to take it off in front of him.

“Take it off.” He gestured to the cloak as if she hadn’t heard him correctly the first time. “You shouldn’t be wearing something that belongs to a dead man.”

“I’ll …” She swallowed, hating the tremble in her voice. But his calm demeanor seemed to bolster something in her because she found herself shaking her head. “I want to keep it on. At least until my bath.”

Muyang canted his head to the side. “You refuse me?”

She continued staring at him, and he stared back, neither of them seeming to want to relent control. She didn’t know why she was grasping onto this so tightly—it was just a stupid cloak that meant nothing to her—and yet she didn’t want to lose what little power she had in front of him. Power that, she was well aware, he was allowing her to have.

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