Page 4 of The Nightblood Prince

Nobody cheered when Prince Yexue’s arrow claimed the first kill of the season.

The forest held its breath, waiting to see how Siwang would react.

Though Lan Yexue, too, was a prince, he was not a prince of Rong.

To put it kindly, Yexue was a ward sent here by his uncle, to be educated by our great empire.

To put it bluntly, he was a prisoner sent from one of our many tribute states, to be kept on a leash in case his uncle, the current Regent of Lan, dared to rebel.

A prince in name only, unworthy of claiming the first kill.

After two years in the Rong court, surviving under enemy roofs, Prince Yexue should have understood 人在屋檐下不得不低头 . When living under the mercy of another, one must bow one’s head.

“Is no one going to congratulate me?” Prince Yexue jumped from his horse to examine the prize, not an ounce of fear weighing down his tone.

How princely of him: ignoring what was expected of him to do what he wanted.

Jealousy rattled.

Prince Yexue of Lan was a boy of sculpted angles and porcelain skin. Thick brows, sharp jaw, and the kind of doe-brown eyes that made even the most proper of daughters lose their wits. To make it worse, he was also tall, towering over almost everyone with the exception of Siwang.

All that beauty, and the kind of arrogant, rebellious streak that only princes were allowed to have—no wonder he’d caused a frenzy when he arrived at the capital two years ago.

Every maiden had swooned at the sight of him—and so had a handful of the imperial concubines and the city’s noble sons.

Rumor had it that half the court had tried to marry their besotted daughters off to him, despite his crumbling kingdom and uncertain fate.

Visitors from across the continent came to Yong’An, and the city had met plenty of beautiful faces before, though never one quite as haunting.

Lan Yexue’s heavenly face was almost enough to make the court overlook his odd name and forget those swirling rumors of dark magic that his family practiced, and how his ancestors were the once-cruel southern rulers who had almost driven Siwang’s ancestors to extinction hundreds of years ago.

Empires rise and empires fall. Now Yexue’s country was our tribute state, and their beautiful prince was our ward.

“You have a sharp eye.” Tension eased slightly when Siwang finally cracked a smile.

“I’ve had practice,” Prince Yexue replied, his voice cold as the frozen terrain surrounding. “Not everyone can be the pampered heir to the most powerful empire in the land with nothing to fear and nothing to want.”

Caikun, the son of a first-ranked general and Siwang’s personal guard, grimaced. His hand rested on his sword, his eyes on Siwang, waiting for a signal to strike.

Other lips twisted into half smiles, including mine. It wasn’t every day that someone had the courage to make fun of our beloved crown prince, however foolish it was.

This hunting party of fur coats and leather riding boots and bows decorated with gold and silver and bedazzling jewels comprised some of our empire’s most powerful heirs.

The children of generals, first-ranked ministers, and the wealthy merchants whose coffers filled the imperial treasury and funded our never-ending campaigns to claim more land, more power.

All in the name of my prophecy.

The one thing these heirs had in common, besides status and wealth and gleaming gold spoons hanging from their mouths?

Their compulsion to worship the ground Siwang walked on as if their lives depended on it.

Because in a way, they did.

君要臣死臣不得不死 . If the emperor wanted a subject dead, the subject must die.

Regardless of status, name, or who their fathers were, all their lives were delicate porcelain to Siwang, suspended on silk cords.

If Siwang wished, he could make any or all of us fall to a death of ten thousand shattered pieces.

Including me—even if he would never admit it, even if the entire court thought otherwise.

I was the empress-to-be, but an empress still had to bend to the will of a man.

“The imperial hunt doesn’t officially start until tomorrow,” I interjected before this could escalate. “This is an outing of leisure, and a chance for us to scout out the terrain before we hunt the bigger prizes tomorrow.”

Though Siwang’s jaw ticked with slight annoyance, the smile that followed was easy, charming, as princes were taught to be. “May the best man kill the first Beiying tiger tomorrow and bask in true glory.”

Yexue’s lips twitched, though it looked more like a sneer than a smirk. “May the best man,” he echoed.

My gaze shifted to the fallen stag, a small thing not yet old enough to grow a full set of antlers or shed all its baby fur. The shot hadgone straight through its eye to preserve the beautiful pelt. Crimson blood bloomed against the white snow, like winter roses. Like forlorn warnings.

Despite having sensed the stag before both princes, I hadn’t reached for my arrows. Because Father would have scolded me if I had.

Girls were not here to win prizes. Our job was to exist in docile and delicate beauty, while princes like Siwang basked in glory and admiration. Or so everyone had told me.

These visions need to stay secret, I reminded myself for the ten thousandth time.

Magic had not existed on our continent for hundreds of years. If the emperor ever found out that I possessed visions of the future, he would deem it a sign that the prophecy was true and that these visions were bestowed upon me so that I could help Siwang in his wars.

For in his eyes, I existed only to serve the ambitions of his son.

If I was really a fallen goddess, destined to bestow my husband with glory, why did I dream only of bloodshed and a capital in flames, never glory?

I cast a long look at the snowy mountains.

Somewhere deep within this terrain hid Beiying tigers with their coveted snow-white fur and midnight-blue stripes that glistened in the light.

They were twice as big as regular tigers and three times as strong.

Legend had it that they were beasts created by the gods themselves during one of the heavenly wars and left forgotten in the mortal realm.

They were the most dangerous animals to roam these lands—other than humans.

If I could track one down, soak my hands with its blood, and offer its pelt to the emperor, I might be able to reclaim my destiny once and for all.

Or die trying.

“Let’s go!” Siwang called as he kicked his horse, Beifeng, into motion. “The day is still young, and I refuse to believe this is the only stag in this entire forest.”

I was about to follow when I felt something burning at the edge of my senses. Not a vision. I looked up and caught Lan Yexue staring at me.

I did not flinch from his gaze, nor did I look away like some chaste maiden who had never felt the fever of a man’s attention. Too many men looked at me, with and without the phoenix’s mark. Especially after my monthly bleedings came, after my chest began to swell and my hips filled out.

I knew lust. Saw it in the faces of both men and boys.

How their eyes lingered a little too long when Siwang wasn’t around.

How they licked their lips and hovered close like I was an object their hands itched to touch, or to take.

Men like those made me want to cover every inch of my body and never step outside.

But if I did that, if I looked away and hid every time I caught someone staring, I would have to spend a lifetime hidden from sight, with only the the silk screens and lacquered walls of my pavilion for company.

Having men stare at me wasn’t a surprising occurrence. What surprised me was that Prince Yexue did not look away when I caught him. And what sparked behind those eyes was something other than lust, something sharper.

Curiosity?

I kicked my horse into a trot before Siwang caught this temporary moment.