Page 90 of Empire's Curse

Wang Yanlin.

Daiyu released the woman and clambered to her feet slowly. She didn’t recognize the name, but it was a start. She stared down at the weeping, fearful woman. A part of her felt for the woman, but the bigger part of her was disgusted by what greed and wealth could do to someone.

Thiswas what it meant to be in His Majesty’s court. To poison. To threaten. To kill. And to be clever about it.

And now Daiyu was a part of it too.

31

Daiyu’s headwas throbbing with all the thinking and planning she had been doing the past week since she found out Wang Yanlin was out to kill her. She had never been a planner—that had always fallen on Lanfen—so conspiring against someone, or even thinking of ways to protect herself made her head want to explode.

She rubbed her temples and stared down at the ink scrawled on the parchment in front of her. Feiyu and her were in the royal library, in a section designated for mages and those of higher status, and it was completely empty. She had asked Feiyu to teach her how to read and write a little, but instead the mage brought her here, disappeared between the bookshelves, and only popped in and out occasionally.

“Feiyu, I can’t read this.” She unfurled the scroll to stare at the crude images of tigers and women and mountains. She had no idea what was going on. Was it a piece of poetry, a story, or a historical piece? She was none the wiser. “Feiyu!”

Feiyu popped around one of the bookshelves, a handful of aged scrolls stacked in his hands. His dragon mask today was yellow and black, with bigger slits for the eyes and curling fangs by the mouth area. “Hm?”

“I can’t read this.” She picked up the scroll and waved it in his direction. “I’m not sure if the woman is getting eaten by the tiger or seduced.”

Feiyu clucked his tongue. “Those things are worth a fortune and you’re waving it like a flag.”

“Is it really?” She set the scroll down a bit more carefully this time, noticing that the edges of the parchment were flaking. She cringed and rested her hands on her lap. “Well, gee, I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“Oh, I don’t really mind. Just that His Majesty might burst a blood vessel.” He chuckled as if that was truly laughable, much to Daiyu’s horror, and rounded the table until he was beside her. Planting a hand on the table and leaning forward to see the scroll, he bobbed his head. “Ah, yes.Thisstory. It’s a rubbish poem about a woman who fell in love with a vicious tiger, only to be killed by it in the end. Moral of the story? Don’t fall for obvious dangers and use your mind.”

“Well then.” Daiyu promptly rolled up the scroll, no longer interested in reading about something that paralleled her own life. “I suppose another moral of the story is not to fall in love with a beast.”

“That’s another possibility.” He dumped his findings onto the table and yanked back the chair across from her. Plopping down on it unceremoniously, he began flicking through the scrolls with unnatural speed. “Anyhow, are you any closer to finding out more about this Wang Yanlin?”

“No.” She sighed and rested her head against her folded arms on the table. The room smelled like dust, incense, and old parchment—which had a hint of vanilla and wood scent. She was no closer to knowing anything about Wang Yanlin than she was the other day. All she knew was that, apparently, the Wang family was one of the biggest, most influential, and wealthy supporters of His Majesty. They also, apparently, thought Muyang would choose their daughter, Yanlin, as his first wife. Other than that tidbit,she knew nothing.

“Maybe you’re not asking the right people.” He unfurled another scroll, scanned the contents, rolled it up, and repeated the process with the next one. “Nikator and Vita aren’t well-versed in the dramas and gossips of court life.”

“I’m well aware of that.” She had asked the twoPeccatamembers if they knew anything, and other than providing her with information about the Wang family estates that were spread throughout the empire, the two knew nothing personally about Yanlin. They hadn’t even met her before.

“Regardless, I think you’re stressing yourself out for no reason. This Yanlin woman might be bold enough to plot your demise, but she definitely won’t be the last. You should focus on fortifying your own defenses first instead of trying to attack her.”

“But isn’t it better to take her down and leave a message to all the other women who want to take my position?” Daiyu lifted her head to pin the mage with a grim look. “I might not know much about strategies, but isn’t that one of them? Isn’t that why generals spike the heads of their enemies around their fortresses and castles? To scare off the opposition?”

Feiyu lowered the scroll he was reading, and through the gaps of his mask, she could make out his eyes crinkling in what she thought was amusement. “You plan to make an example out of Wang Yanlin?”

“I’d like to, yes.” She drummed her fingers against the polished, emerald-painted tabletop and chewed on her lower lip as she thought of ways to send a clear message to the woman. Her gaze glossed over to the ceiling-high bookshelves closed around them, and then to the sprawling, metal-latticed windows with dragon designs along the frames, and then finally to the green-robed mage studying her with inquisitive, black eyes. “If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

“My methods involve magic, torture, and killing—all of which I’m certain you’re incapable of doing. So ifyouhave anything you’d like to share with me, I’m all ears.”

Daiyu shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that, but shecouldn’t keep the shock from her voice. “You’vetorturedpeople before?”

“Killed them too.”

She could have sworn he grinned when he said it.

“But what else can you expect from the high mage of the royal palace, hm?”

“I didn’t expect you to be so …” She struggled to find a word. “Brutal?”

“Anyhow, Daiyu, I’m dying to know the next step of your head-spiking plan.” Feiyu plucked a scroll from his pile and unfolded it like the others.

“I don’t have a planyet.” She stared off at the rows of stacked scrolls, all of them with different shaped rods holding the parchment together—some wooden, some rotting, and some metal.

---