Chapter 4
Emboldened by drink, a deputy commander leaned toward him. His voice was pitched just loud enough for me to hear. “Your Majesty, the woman Zhou has sent is beautiful, certainly. But I wonder if she’s still fresh.”
“If you’re not interested, why not let your servant have a taste?”
A playful curve touched Yuan Xiu’s lips. His eyes stayed on my face, coldly assessing.
He said nothing, merely lifted his chin.
Permission enough.
People called Nanyue barbaric. Now I could see why.
Holding my breath, I watched him quietly.
The deputy rose and lurched toward me, reeking of wine.
Step by step, he came closer.
At the last possible moment,
I did not retreat an inch.
I reached into my hair, drew out the silver pin I had sharpened, and drove it straight into his throat.
Clean and quick.
Blood spurted over my splendid wedding robes, warm and sticky.
The entire feast fell silent.
Every eye turned to me. The drunken revelry froze.
“How dare you!”
Then came the furious, startled shouts.
“This little Han princess has no idea who she’s dealing with!”
“Teach her a lesson!”
I paid no attention to their rage.
“I came here under orders to seal a marriage alliance.”
I wiped the blood from my pin without haste, my voice steady. “I am the king’s woman.”
“No one but the king may touch me.”
I looked straight toward the seat of honor.
The idle cruelty in Yuan Xiu’s eyes receded. In its place came the faintest glimmer of appreciation, almost amused.
It vanished in an instant.
“Enough,” he said at last, his tone careless. “The princess has had a tiring journey.”
“Take her away to rest.”
That night, the north wind howled, driving yellow sand across the sky.
Two expressionless maids took me to a secluded tent in the west.
Its furnishings were simple: a couch, a desk, an oil lamp.
Yuan Xiu followed me inside.
He smelled of wine but showed no sign of drunkenness.
A single tallow lamp dimly lit the tent.
He took off his heavy wolf-fur cloak and tossed it aside. Without looking at me, he went to the place of honor, sat on a tiger skin, and picked up an open scroll on military affairs.
I approached in silence.
His eyes remained lowered to the scroll.
He neither spoke nor looked at me.
I, too, said nothing.
At the bronze basin in the corner, I wrung out a damp cloth. Then I went to his desk and gently wiped the blood and wine from his temple. I did not know whose blood it was.
The fingers turning the scroll paused, but he did not stop me.
My touch was light.
When I had finished, I turned to the side table and poured a bowl of the sobering broth prepared there.
I offered it to him with both hands.
He kept his eyes on the military scroll, ignoring my attentions.
I lowered my gaze and set the bowl down.
But my fingers ventured toward his slightly open collar.
A hand clamped around my wrist.
So hard it nearly crushed the bones.
Slowly, he raised his eyes, unreadably dark and cold with mockery. “That impatient?”
“Yes.” I met his gaze without flinching and gave him a sincere smile. “I came here to serve you, Your Majesty.”
He gave a scornful laugh, flung my hand away, and stood. His tall figure cast a heavy shadow that swallowed me entirely.
He looked at me as though I were an inanimate object. “Then I’ll be honest. I have no interest whatsoever in Han women.”
“I married you merely to humiliate Zhou.”
“Spare me your seduction.”
He lifted his eyes slowly, as though waiting to see how I would react.
I only smiled a little. “You’ve misunderstood, Your Majesty. I am no Han woman.”
My gaze met his directly. “I am your woman.”
“Here. Now.”
He studied me from head to toe.
Then he raised a brow, intrigued. “Are you?”
He leaned over me.
His hot, wine-scented breath struck the side of my neck.
My body went rigid, my nails digging into my palms.
Xie Wuyang’s face flashed through my mind, so clear and so distant.
Hot tears slipped down my cheeks.
“Why are you crying? Don’t you want this?”
“No. I’m happy to be your woman.”
Yuan Xiu laughed softly and forced me back onto the couch.
A chill swept through my heart.
Just as he was about to go further, he stopped.
“Your Majesty.” I met his eyes, my voice as still as a frozen lake. “Why have you stopped? Are you afraid?”
His gaze darkened. “Afraid?”
“Of an unarmed woman.” My fingertips brushed the tense back of his neck. “Or are you afraid… you’ll lose yourself?”
He sneered and gripped my chin. “Trying to provoke me?”
“I wouldn’t dare.” I turned my head a little, freeing myself from his grip, and touched his open collar. “I’m only curious. What could make even a Nanyue warrior shrink away?”
The mockery in his eyes gave way to surging anger, and he bore down on me with a force I could not resist.
He ignored my feelings and handled me brutally.
Pain and fear struck together.
And I let him do as he wished.
The first step had worked.