Page 63 of Empire's Curse

She didn’t want him. And yet, why did her chest ache at the mere idea of him casting her aside?

“Your hands …” Muyang gently took her raw, peeling, and damaged hands in his. His forehead creased even more. His gaze flicked up from her aching hands to her face, and he studied her for a moment as if knowing what she had done to escape from him. “You’re injured all over, little fiend. What have you done?”

Her throat dried up, and a blustering wind blew over her face in that exact second, obscuring her expression with her hair. All the injuries on her body—her hands, her feet, her thigh—were a testament of her desire to flee. To escape from her impending doom. She should have remained resolute in that—she had staked her life on it. But here, in his presence, her mind was scrambled and she couldn’t form coherent thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Daiyu tried wrenching her hands away, but he held her wrists tighter.

“It matters to me.” He stared at her levelly, and she couldn’t look past the blood speckled on his face or the darkness of his eyes. “It matters to me, Daiyu.”

“Why?” She remembered his earlier words—about how replaceable she was to him—and her throat constricted together. She didn’t like the way her stomach twisted together like a pit of writhing snakes.

Muyang didn’t answer. He held her hands lightly, a golden glow returning from his fingertips. Her skin warmed as the magic touched her and she watched as the flesh repaired itself. He healed every part of her that was injured, whether it was a scratch on her arm or the gashes on her feet. He was silent the entire time, moving on to each wound methodically. It wasn’t until she was completely healed that he spoke again.

“You will have some scars. It angers me to think that these scum”—he spat in the direction of the corpses, his voice riddled with vitriol—“dared to touch and wound you so, but I can’t do more than kill them. And seeing as how they’re already dead, I can’t torture them for the wrong they have committed against you. I should have let them breathe their last breaths at your feet,begging for forgiveness, but my fury took the better part of my decisions and I dashed that hope prematurely.”

Daiyu stared down at her healed hands and stretched her cold, stiff fingers. Her hands weren’t scarred, but even healed, they were rough with all the work she had done throughout her life—all the farming, cooking, cleaning, and manual labor made her hands different than that of a noble woman’s. She didn’t have delicate, pink hands that were unused to work. She had roughened, dry, and patchy hands. Embarrassment flooded her at the sight. He probably thought her hands were like this because she had injured them recently. Little did he know.

The textured, pink scar on her thigh was just another imperfection on her already imperfect body. He didn’t seem to realize just how flawed she was. Or how this new scar made herlesserthan all those other women who already had an advantage over her.

“It really doesn’t matter, Your Majesty.” Daiyu’s breath fogged in front of her and she rubbed circles over her shoulders. Her cloak was torn in several areas, but she barely felt the cold. Not when she was so close to him and practically sitting on his lap. She shifted her body away from his warmth. “These unfortunate men are already dead, and whether they begged at my feet or not wouldn’t change my fate … or theirs.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” A hint of anger leaked into his voice and he reached forward to grab her chin, but she shook her head away before he could. “Theyhurtyou, Daiyu. Of course it matters?—”

“If that was enough reason for it to matter, then it matters not.”

“What are you saying?”

“You’ve wounded me, and it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Her lower lip wobbled and she hated the vulnerability in her voice, or the way his eyes widened a fraction of an inch in surprise.

Muyang blinked slowly. “I’ve wounded you? When?”

“When you told me I’m replaceable.” Her throat closed upand her eyes misted with unshed tears. It was the painful truth she didn’t want to face—the fact that his words affected her more than they should have. Her voice thickened as she continued, “And now my worth is even less than all those women in the empire who are already better than me. I’m already old, and rough, and nowscarredto top it all off! Who will ever want to marry me now? Who will everwantme?”

She didn’t know why she was saying all of that—she had resigned herself to a fate of never marrying, but now … now, her heart felt empty. Lonely.Afraid.

“It doesn’t matter what happened, or what will happen, or how all of this came to be. All I know is that I’m miserable, hurt, and cold, and my body is scarred, and I … I …” More tears streamed down her face and she had a million different threads of thoughts running through her mind, each of them intersecting with one another and confusing her. “I don’t know what to feel anymore.”

“Daiyu.” Muyang stared at her squarely, his voice barely above a fierce whisper. His black hair swayed with the motion of the wintry wind, and something dark passed over his features. “Do you think I want you less because you’rescarred? There is not a single thing in this empire—in thisworld—that can mar your beauty or your worth. Never think that you are worth less than anyone else.” He reached forward and grasped a tendril of her hair. Something possessive seemed to take ahold of him as he narrowed his eyes at her. “And you speak as if someone else would dare to marry you when you aremine.”

The last of her tears fell onto her lap and she could only stare at him, dumbfounded. He wanted her, despite … despite everything? Her confusing emotions entangled further and she swiped at her damp cheeks with the palms of her hands. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself, and yet she found that itdid.

“But I …” She swallowed down the heaviness in her throat. She wanted toleavehim. That was why she was even in this mess. There was no reason for her to fling herself on himwhen he had done nothing for her but put her in this situation. She should hate him, not desire him, and she should particularly hate the twisted, possessive attention he gave her.

She shoved her messy, confusing thoughts away when Muyang suddenly rested his head against her shoulder. Daiyu nearly squeaked at the contact, her face flushing with unexpected warmth.

“Y-your Majesty?”

“Let me … just … rest my head for a second,” he breathed.

A blush spread over her cheeks as he wrapped his arms around her waist and enveloped her in a loose embrace. “Your Majesty? This isn’t appropriate?—”

And before she could question him further, his body went limp against hers.

23

Daiyu fell backin the snow with the weight of Muyang’s body pinning her to the ground. She blinked up at the gray sky. The back of her clothes slowly seeped with dampness from the snow. She tried nudging Muyang, but he remained unmoving andheavy.

“Your Majesty?” Daiyu wriggled beneath him. He was like an anchor sitting on her chest, making it harder to breathe, but even as she pushed him, he didn’t budge. “Are you seriously …”Unconscious?

---