Page 15 of The Nightblood Prince

“You are not going to win!” Judging from their armor, these men were not imperial guards; they were soldiers. Real, battle-hardened soldiers who had trained their whole lives to excel at one thing and one thing only: killing.

“You are just like your tyrant father, Lan Yexue,” Siwang snarled as he brandished his own blade. “Always taking what does not belong toyou.”

Frustration slashed through fear at these words. As if I were something that belonged to him and not myself.

“Bold words for a man who’s about to die.” Yexue retorted, his blade relaxed at his side. “Close your eyes, Fei. I don’t want you to see this,” Yexue warned one last time, then lunged at the closest soldier, quicker than what should have been possible.

Blood splattered across fresh-fallen snow, just like in my visions.

“I usually try not to make a mess, but my robes are already stained.” Yexue moved like a shadow, too fast for my eyes to follow. The only indications of his location were the marks of crimson that bloomed after him.

Blood. So much blood. And Yexue wasn’t the one bleeding, like I had thought.

He was the killer.

They are monsters, Fangyun’s court gossip echoed. The Lan dynasty trade magic with Death himself.

I had thought this slander, distorted lies that sprouted from prejudice and long-held grudges between our two nations. But where there was smoke, there had to be fire.

Lan Yexue moved with expert precision. Blood kept spilling until the scene looked like a painting of winter roses.

What have I done?

By the time Yexue came to a stop in the middle of the field and lowered his sword, Siwang was the lone figure standing among fallen comrades— barely. He was clutching a gash in his abdomen, unsteady on his feet.

Yexue ran a blood-soaked hand through his now disheveled hair, then turned to present me with a grin that said I told you so.

Tears burned my frozen cheeks.

“You should have closed your eyes,” Yexue mused. His voice was casual, as if we were discussing something as trivial as the weather. He offered his blade to me. “Would you like to do the honor of ending his life?”

“You…” I tried to speak, but every word collapsed in my mouth like running sand. My heart was a rampant beast rattling against my chest, its deafening thud-thud-thud drowning out my everything.

“I told you I would free you from the Rong Empire and your marriage, didn’t I?” Yexue flashed that wide smile again. Except it was no longer beautiful.

Behind him, Siwang fell to his knees as blood poured and poured through clenched fingers that desperately tried to apply pressure to the wound.

Crimson pooled at Siwang’s feet.

My Siwang.

I thought of the boy who’d climb trees to get the highest berries for me, write out a copy of every homework assignment in case I ever forgot mine, spend hours rolling in snow even when he was sick, just to spend a little more time with me.

The boy who held my hand when I cried, who listened to all my tear-soaked thoughts, my wishes and dreams and worst fears—those that I could share with him, at least—and promised he’d move mountains to make every single dream of mine come true and burn my every fear to ashes and that I shouldn’t worry. Because I had him.

The boy who had begged his father to postpone our wedding not because he wanted to, but because I wanted to.

Again and again, Siwang had proved his heart to me.

Again and again, I had pushed him away. Because I was afraid. Of his love. Of falling in love with him. Of my nightmares. And of the possibility that maybe I didn’t deserve him, and would never deserve him.

In my dreams, I had watched Rong Siwang die hundreds of times, if not thousands. All because of me, because of this prophecy that everyone believed would bring greatness to Rong. What if instead of an auspicious fate, I was a curse that would doom him to losing everything?

Run, I wanted to tell him, while Yexue has his back turned.

Siwang didn’t run. He wouldn’t. He was raised to be a hero, to be the noble and honorable prince his father had demanded he be since he was a baby, swaddled in silk.

Honorable princes didn’t run from battles. Didn’t leave their betrothed in the hands of a cold-blooded killer.

“Would you like to finish him off?” Yexue repeated, still offering me his blade.

With a shaking hand, I took the blade from him.

Yexue’s smile deepened. He opened his arms and reached up, as if to help me down from the horse.

I didn’t let him touch me.

Instead, I drove the blade into the right side of his chest, then pushed him away. “A life for a life. You saved mine, so I will spare yours. Get on, Siwang!” I hissed as I kicked the horse into motion.

Even injured, Siwang leaped on effortlessly.

I snapped the reins and the horse bolted into a full sprint. I didn’t know who was faster, this prized stallion or the monstrous abilities of Lan Yexue.

Thankfully, I didn’t find out.

Yexue didn’t try to chase us. As we raced through the pinewoods, I heard neither the sound of horses’ hooves nor his impossibly fast steps.

Against my better judgment, I allowed myself one last glance over my shoulder to see Yexue standing right where I’d left him, the blade still plunged into his chest as blood soaked through his once-pristine white robes.

He watched me with the same amber eyes that had regarded me so tenderly mere hours earlier in the cave. Though they were too far away to read, I assumed they were no longer so kind.

Yet, as we rode away, I could have sworn I saw Yexue smile.