Page 92 of Empire's Curse

“Y-Your Majesty!” Her head craned back in his direction, her mouth parting slightly. When had he snuck up behind her? And furthermore … a quick scan of her surroundings revealed Feiyu, and all signs of him, was nowhere to be seen. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking that of you.” He took a step back to let her breathe and his body warmth left her in seconds. She noticed the way his hand lingered on her waist before he released her. Raising the scroll, he lifted his brows. “I didn’t think you were interested in magical writings.”

She almost leaned forward into his touch to feel the heat againbut stopped herself short. She instead spun around so she was staring up at him and braced her hands behind herself onto the shelves. They were still only inches apart.

When Muyang tilted his head to the side and gave her a wry smile, Daiyu snapped out of her reverie of admiring him. She had almost forgotten he had even said anything.

“I can’t read, actually,” she said quickly, motioning to the library. “But I wanted to look at some pictures. That scroll caught my attention because it was painted in such a vibrant color. I was going to see if it had any illustrations inside or not.”

“You’re always surprising me.”

“Because I want to look at illustrations?”

“No.” His smile grew broader and there was a twinkle in his dark eyes that made her chest tighten. He inched closer as if sharing a secret and whispered, “The fact that you always sneak into places you shouldn’t be.”

“Oh.” She could feel a blush staining her cheeks and she was reminded of how they first met in his bathing chambers. “I didn’t realize this library was off-limits.”

“It’s my personal library.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.Oh.” She glanced over at where Feiyu had been and then at the rest of the vacant section of the library. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize?—”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Muyang’s eyes flicked down to her lips. “You’ll be my wife soon, and everything that is mine will be yours.”

They held each other’s gaze for a slow, electrifying moment longer before Daiyu motioned to the scroll. “Noteverything. But I would like to look at that scroll if you’ll let me.”

He handed her the scroll. “Let me help you read it.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” He smiled that slow-smile of his again and her stomach flipped at the sight of it. At the soft purr when he murmured, “Is it wrong for me to want to assist my wife-to-be?”

She swallowed down the dryness of her throat. It wassuddenly too warm in the room, too stifling, too uncomfortable. Even though she wore the finest silks, her clothes felt too rough, too tight, and far too prickly in that very moment. Like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and yet it felt right to be there next to him. To have him peering down at her like she was something to be coveted.

Daiyu cleared her throat. “It’s not wrong, per se. But I’d hate to trouble you over something so simple and trivial.”

“All the more reason for me to help you.” He waved a hand toward one of the tables.

She went to the table she had been sitting at with Feiyu and eased herself into the seat. Muyang sat across from her and even though she had just been with Feiyu minutes ago, this felt all too different than it had been with the high mage. He felt closer to her physically than Feiyu had been. The distance between them seemed to be smaller, the desk narrower, and even the air felt less abundant, like it was harder to breathe with him around.

She hated the instant effect he had on her. Hated how her skin tingled with goose bumps and how her body warmed with one glance. She was too aware of him, of how alone they were in this room, and how they would wed one another in a week.

Muyang pointed a slender finger at the scroll. “Are you going to open it?”

“Yes,” she replied, still breathless. She fumbled with the flap of the scroll and unfurled it across the desk, letting one end of the rod roll to the edge of the table. To her disappointment, there weren’t any illustrations, just inky, elegant strokes along the cream-colored parchment.

“This—” Muyang stared at the writing, his forehead creasing and a strange look flashing over his face. “You picked a particularly interesting scroll, little rabbit.” He dragged a finger over to the scroll and tapped against one of the characters written there. “This is about soul splitting and curses.”

“Curses?” She perked up at that.

“You like curses?”

“Well,no.” She fiddled with her fingers on her lap. “But magic is just so fascinating to me. I had never experienced it before until I came to the palace, so it’s all so very new to me. I’m curious to know, what are curses like? Is it a type of magic? Like in those old tales about people being cursed into becoming monsters?”

“Curses are a type of magic, yes. A type that consumes.” Muyang flipped the scroll so it was facing him. “Soul splitting is a type of curse. It’s where the magic user tears their soul apart, corrupts themselves, and becomes unstable.”

“Why would anyone do that to themselves?”

He shrugged. “Various reasons, I suppose. To cast aside a part of themselves they dislike. To split their magic into different beings. Or maybe in a sick effort to save themselves.”

---