Page 14 of Dynasty of the Wicked (The Wicked Princess #1)

14

It was cold—unbearably so. Zhi Ruo could feel winter’s touch leeching any hint of warmth from her body, allowing its coldness to seep down into her stiff muscles. She was also aware of an intense pain everywhere . Her back, her legs, her arms—every bit of her flesh ached like the fibers had torn straight off the bone.

She groaned, trying to curl within herself, but strong hands pressed down on her shoulders, keeping her in place. She tried to wrestle away, her body freezing and every part of her aching.

“ Shh . It’s all right, it’s all right,” Feng Mian’s voice drifted toward her, but she couldn’t tell where he was. Her sense of direction was off and she couldn’t get a good bearing of herself.

She tried peeling her eyes open, but found she couldn’t. Pain pulled her left and right, and she gritted her chattering teeth together to keep from crying out loud. Then she remembered what had happened—how her magic had gone awry, how she was consumed with power, how Feng Mian’s shackles had shattered, the Kadian soldiers. She couldn’t remember anything after that.

Were they still stuck in a cell? Or forced into a tent once again? She wanted to cry in frustration—had she blown their one chance at freedom?

“Feng Mian,” she murmured, tears burning her eyes. Her voice came out slurred, the muscles of her cheeks and jaw stiff and heavy. “I’m … sorry. I couldn’t control it?—”

“Don’t apologize, Princess.”

Pain gripped her tightly, every breath causing razors to run through her lungs. She groaned again, trying to turn her heavy head. “I don’t know what happened. I was so angry, and I blew it. I should have … controlled myself better.”

His gentle fingers gently traced the strands of hair stuck to her clammy skin, and he tucked them behind her ears carefully, and slowly. “You did well, Princess. Now sleep.”

Zhi Ruo wanted to say more, but her tongue was too heavy and she spiraled back into darkness. She wasn’t sure if hours had passed, or only minutes, but the pain in her body had subsided at some point, and she finally was able to crack her eyes open. It was dark, moonlight shining against a canopy of barren trees. She turned her head, noticing that she was on the ground, covered in a thin blanket. The snow seeped through her clothes, but not enough that she was soaked through. She pushed herself into a sitting position, finally noticing that Feng Mian was seated a few feet away from her, his back against a tree and his head lolling forward as he drifted to sleep, woke up, and drifted back to sleep.

She blinked, eyes widening. They weren’t at the Kadian camp. They were in the middle of the forest. Flurries of snow lazily twirled around them and she shuddered as a wintry breeze blew against her thin, ripped dress. They should have frozen to death, but they were both very much alive.

“Feng Mian?” she asked, reaching forward and touching his shoulder.

His eyes snapped open and he leaped on top of her, shoving her shoulders onto the snow-packed earth, one hand going straight to her neck. His thighs tightened around her waist, his expression dark.

“F-Feng Mian, it’s me!” she gasped, her hands flying to his wrist.

He loosened his grip, his silver eyes widening as realization dawned in them. He yanked his hand back, still on top of her.

“Sorry—” he began. “I … was still half asleep.”

She blinked up at him; the cascade of snow fluttering through the wind, and the backdrop of moonlight-drenched trees and sparkling silver ice clinging to barren branches made him appear all the more ethereal. His gleaming white hair, his silver eyes, and gray lashes looking like winter personified. She was, once again, utterly struck with how beautiful he was.

“You’re on top of me,” she breathed, all too aware that one of his hands was gripping her wrist, pinning it to the ground. More ice-slush seeped into the back of her dress. Her legs were tangled with the skirt of her torn dress and his legs.

“I’m aware.”

He didn’t move, only exhaled deeply, his breath fogging in front of them both.

“Are you planning on staying there?” Zhi Ruo asked. She had meant for it to come out in a teasing manner, except she sounded breathless, and her cheeks flamed in response.

He tightened his hold on her, leaning closer until his warm breath tickled her cheeks. “Would you like me to?”

Yes .

Zhi Ruo laughed softly, but it came out strangled. “No.”

“ Liar .”

He released her wrist and slowly traced the column of her neck with the back of his knuckles. He closed his silver eyes, his skin cold to the touch. He trailed his hand up to the sides of her face, and then cupped her cheeks with both hands. Feng Mian’s unseeing eyes filled her vision, and she forgot how to breathe.

His lips crashed with hers, the kiss long and hard and void of gentleness. There was only need . Something feral and fervent sparked between the both of them, something that could only happen here—in the middle of the night, alone, and without the company of their oppressors. They were free here, with nobody to interrupt them. Nobody to tower over them. Nobody to witness as she kissed him harder, as her breaths came in quick gasps, as she gripped the front of his tunic and ran her hands over his broad chest.

In that moment, Zhi Ruo wanted him more than she wanted anything else. She was in love with him, she knew that, and she craved his touch. His attention. Him .

He pulled back from the kiss and she finally noticed black veins clawing up his neck. That was enough to snap her out of her reverie. Horror washed over her, and she pushed herself into a sitting position, her fingers brushing along the skin of his shadowed, bruised throat.

“Feng Mian.” She laid her hand on the pulsing black writhing beneath his flesh; she could feel the power coming from him, dark and lethal. He flinched back at the contact, but didn’t pull away. “When did …” She searched his face. “When did this happen? The curse is spreading.”

He didn’t answer, his expression shuttering. Zhi Ruo’s throat closed up and she quickly scanned her own skin, yanking her sleeves up to see if there were any shadows wriggling within her, and yet the more she examined herself, the more her horror mounted. There was nothing on her to signal that she had used his dark magic.

“Did you take my curse?” she whispered, eyes widening as the words came out. A howling of the wind nearly drowned them, but she knew he’d heard by the way he stiffened. The way he quickly turned away, his silver-white hair falling over one side of his face.

“ Feng Mian .” She reached forward to grab him, but he jerked away from her, peeling himself off her in the next second.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Zhi Ruo clambered up to her feet, the blood rush causing her to stumble forward on trembling, weak legs. Feng Mian grabbed her by the shoulders to keep her upright and she grasped the front of his tunic with one hand, her gaze flicking up to his moonlit face. “Why would you do something like that? Won’t you die once your curse spreads to your whole body?”

And it had spread so much. The night canopied the worst of it, but she could see it on his neck, and even on his wrists. How much worse did it look in daylight? She shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold.

Feng Mian’s body grew taut, his face tight. “It doesn’t matter, Princess. I’m not meant to live long, anyway.”

“You’re not— what ? Do you hear yourself right now?” She swayed on her feet, grateful that he was still holding her, because she surely would have keeled over. “Feng Mian, I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m a warrior.” His words hardened and he turned his face toward the night sky. The moon bathed his beautiful face in shimmering silver. “I have no plans of living long.”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t see.”

“Turn toward me.” She placed gentle hands on his face and forced him to stare down at her. “Let my words reach you better, then, because I don’t think you’re understanding a thing I’m saying. And truthfully, I don’t understand you, either.” The wind chilled her cool body and she shuddered as another blast of wind knocked at them, sending her skirts to whip around her legs. “Why do you speak like you are happy with dying, Feng Mian? I want you to live.”

Feng Mian’s lips flattened into a firm line. “And do what, Princess? Live in a fairytale land where we both are accepted? What will we do after this?”

“We will live?—”

“Where? And do what?” He laughed harshly, silver eyes darkening in the shadowy night. “Will we run from your father’s court and live like paupers in the streets? Who will ever want to hire me? If not for my magic, I have no use in anything. I cannot read. I cannot write. I cannot work. I cannot do anything of value other than kill . Murder, magic, mayhem—that is all I am capable of.”

“I don’t know what we will do, but we will find a way?—”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I will only be useful on the battlefield. I am content there.” He pushed back a strand of her hair that had gone astray with the frigid wind. A trail of heat brushed over her skin by his touch. “I am a monster, Princess. I would not make a good husband for you. Nor a good lover, nor a good … anything.”

“But—” Her throat thickened with emotion and she found it difficult to speak. She had known it wouldn’t be easy—that escaping would just be the beginning—but she didn’t want to rush back to reality. Back to Father’s vicious court where they both were nothing. Where she was only good for marriage, and he was only good for killing. “Feng Mian, I … I want you.”

“And I want you,” he murmured, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb. “But you are a princess. You are meant for more than just me.”

“Why are you talking like that? Didn’t you tell me that I should love myself? That all of Father’s court was wrong to treat me unfairly? So why are you now speaking like this too?” Her hands curled into fists and she slammed them against his chest lightly. “Listen to me, Feng Mian. I don’t know how it will work, but we will make it work. My father’s court cannot keep us apart, and you cannot keep us apart either, with your depressing talks of being a monster. You are more than that.”

Feng Mian appeared like he wanted to say more—to argue with her—but something passed over his face quickly, and he jerked his face to the left, eyebrows pulling together. He tensed, and she did too, following his attention to the barren bushes and trees surrounding them, darkness bleeding between them.

“We cannot talk for too long. We must hurry out of here,” he said, grabbing her hand, and a burst of warmth spread over her once more, spreading down to her toes. “Wyer and his forces are still after us. We are on foot, while they are on horses. It will not take them long to find us. The only reason they haven’t so far is because of my magic.”

Zhi Ruo and Feng Mian quickly hurried through the forest, and she got the sense that he was all too eager to escape from their conversation. She could feel his magic pulsing into her through their joined hands, warming her body and flesh. She was sure that the only reason they hadn’t frozen to death was because of him.

Their breath steamed from their mouths, appearing hazy in the night sky. Zhi Ruo tried keeping up with his long strides, her body weak and quaking. She wasn’t sure how he was able to keep up his pace, especially since they had been starved and emaciated due to the Kadians.

“Did you carry me the whole time?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How long was I gone?”

He hesitated. “A few days. I lost count.”

“Did you … heal me?”

“I did.”

They continued for a while after that, their feet kicking up snow and packed earth. Feng Mian waved a hand behind them every now and then, causing a rush of shadows to hide their tracks. Sweat dampened his forehead and his breathing became more labored with time. He yanked out a drawstring bag from his pocket and handed it to her.

“What’s this?” She took it from him, pulling the string gently to find small cubes of yellow. She picked up one of them and inspected it.

“It’s food.” He frowned even as he said it.

“Food?” She sniffed it, and crinkled her nose at the sharp scent. “What type of food? Something fermented?”

“I don’t know. I heard the Kadians call it cheese .”

She took a bite of the cube and almost wanted to spit it out; it was such a strange flavor. Piquant, tangy, and sour—she didn’t know how the Kadians stomached it, but she wasn’t a fan. She had never seen anything like it in their cuisine.

“What is it made of?” She turned the cheese in her hand, her steps slowing as fatigue crept into her muscles. They must have walked for an hour at this point.

“I don’t know.”

“Strange.”

“Indeed. I was able to steal it from a few Kadians.” He took out a small hunk of bread from his pocket and handed it to her, which she gratefully took and munched on. “There were two Kadians who ended up tracking us. I think they knew some sort of tracking magic, because I don’t know how else they found us. I killed them about two days ago.”

“Oh.” A few months ago, that news might have turned her stomach, made her want to retch and forget that she was eating a dead man’s meal, but she had seen too much at this point to care for their deaths.

“Do you even know where we’re headed?” she asked.

He sighed this time, long and hard. “I don’t know for sure, Princess. But far away from here, at least. I can sense them a few miles behind us. Wyer is likely keeping his distance because of my magic. At this point, I’m just trying to get away from him.”

They didn’t talk again for a while, both of them turning their focus to treading through the thick snow and wayward winds. Zhi Ruo found herself wanting to ask him more about their earlier conversation, but exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders and it took all her energy to put one foot in front of the other.

Zhi Ruo tripped over an ice-crusted root covered with fluffy snow and landed in a pile of slushy ice. She gasped, her elbows deep into the flurries of snow and frost. The coldness drenched through her sleeves and the front of her dress. She pushed herself onto her hands and knees, the blustering wind making her frozen, wind-chapped face feel even more rigid.

“Here,” Feng Mian said as he stretched his hand out for her. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” She slipped her hand in his and he hauled her up to her feet. Her knees were wet, her torn skirts flimsy against the winter chill. The material had thinned even more during her captivity; more sections of it frayed and useless.

“We will have to—” He whipped his head in one direction. “ Down ?—”

An arrow whizzed past them both, thwacking straight into a partially frozen tree beside them. Feng Mian muttered a curse and shoved them both to the ground; an outbreak of arrows followed in its wake. Feng Mian waved his hand and the arrows stopped midair before spinning around and releasing back at whoever was attacking them.

Zhi Ruo scrambled in the snow, gaze skating to the darkness. A fire bobbed in the distance, and she could hear the steps of booted feet crunching over ice and dried branches

Feng Mian remained stiff beside her, his head canting slightly. “ Fuck ,” he snarled. “There’s ten of them.”

Time slowed. Feng Mian lurched to his feet just as the Kadian soldiers burst through the clearing, their swords drawn and a fire glowing in the hands of one. Zhi Ruo was slow to come to her feet. The first soldier ran toward them, but Feng Mian ducked beneath his sword and grabbed his face with one hand. Shadows writhed from him, spreading into the soldier and leaching his life away in the next second. Feng Mian hid beneath the now-dead soldier’s body, and shoved another arrow toward another enemy.

Zhi Ruo rose to her feet, sweat slicking her brows and body. She raised her hand, willing the shadows to work like they had previously, but nothing happened. Her mind blanked—how had she done it before? She couldn’t even remember.

“Zhi Ruo!” Feng Mian crashed into her, sending her hurtling to the ground. Another blaze of arrows followed, and Feng Mian hissed in pain. She didn’t have time to think, to do anything—he was already back on his feet, moving again, shadows ripping through his hands toward the men. An arrow lodged into his shoulder. Her eyes grew wide.

It was her fault .

She tried to move again, but her limbs felt heavy. She tried to get the magic to work in her hands again, but she couldn’t. She could barely feel the warmth of it on her fingertips.

Feng Mian fought the soldiers, his magic whipping around him like a whirlwind, trapping them and making them collapse on the snow. He swung his sword toward the men, cutting through limbs and hands with ease.

One of the soldiers approached her, his daggers drawn and his sharp, green eyes zeroed in on her. She struggled to her feet, flicking her hand in front of herself, willing the magic to come and consume him. Magic sputtered at her fingertips, falling like ash onto the snow.

“You are weak here,” he said, raising his sharp blades. “Come with me quietly, and you will not get hurt.”

She backed away; in the edges of her vision, Feng Mian was fighting four of them, the other five were twisted on the ground.

“Come now, Princess .” He raced toward her.

Zhi Ruo repressed the urge to scream and ducked as his dagger slashed the air above her head. He kneed her in the stomach and she keeled over, pain erupting in her belly. He grasped the back of her head and yanked her face up to him. His lips twisted into a sneer. “Come quietly, or?—”

“Never!” she screamed, her hands pressing on his chest. A burst of angry dark magic crashed through her fingers, hurtling the soldier back. He crashed into one of the trees with a sick crack, and fell forward in the snow. He didn’t move again and when she dragged herself to where he was and prodded him with her foot, she realized that his neck was bowed backward. She cringed, turning away.

Shadowy magic continued to drip from her hands, and she could barely catch her breath. It was like most of her energy had been leeched by that one attack. She steadied herself by grabbing a nearby tree, her gaze skating over to Feng Mian.

There were only two soldiers left. One of them was limping, his hand missing and half his face bathed in blood. The other fought Feng Mian with vigor, their swords clashing with one another in quick succession.

Zhi Ruo aimed her shadowy magic at the weaker soldier, but her magic dried up in that moment and along with it, her energy, disappearing altogether. She fell to her knees, her breaths coming in quick gasps. Darkness ebbed in the corners of her vision and she squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of nausea rolled over her.

No, she had to be useful. She couldn’t leave Feng Mian to fight alone.

She tried to send a sea of magic toward the fighting soldiers, tried to immerse them in dark magic, to suffocate them where they stood. But she was completely drained of magic.

She crawled over to the dead soldier and yanked his daggers out from his stiff fingers. She had just risen back to her feet, weapons in hand, when she realized that the fighting was over. Feng Mian stood alone in the clearing, his chest rising and falling, hands coated in blood and veined black with cursed magic. The Kadian corpses formed a giant, ominous circle around him.

“Princess?” He stepped forward, his injured shoulder slumping forward and his face wracking with pain. The arrow was still sticking out of him, though the shaft had broken in half at some point. “Are you injured?”

“No.” Tears filled her eyes and she staggered toward him. She stopped when she was a foot away, her hands shaking as she stared at the arrow wound and the blood darkening his clothes. His hands twitched, the curse spreading further down his fingers.

“You’re hurt,” she choked out, staring at the pulsing shadows beneath his flesh. The daggers slipped out of her hands and plunked into the soft, blood-stained snow. The wind howled, sending a wave of frozen flurries to pellet them both. “Feng Mian, the curse?—”

“It’s nothing.” He gathered her in his arms, breathing in her scent sharply. He could barely support his own weight, and she tried to hold her ground for him. He continued to breathe heavily, his arms quivering from fatigue; he smelled of blood, sweat, and battle. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep track of them all and then I didn’t know where you went. I was terrified I would accidentally?—”

Feng Mian didn’t speak for a moment, and she wondered whether he didn’t want to, or if the words wouldn’t come out. She touched the back of his head gently, threading her fingers through the silken, moon-like strands. “That you would accidentally hurt me?”

“If I am unable to keep track of you, then … then I cannot tell the difference between you and—” He shuddered, and his breath pooled out of him like thick, white clouds. He gestured toward the corpses surrounding them, and another gust of wind carrying icy flakes blew against them. “I have hurt, and even killed, my comrades before. When I am overcome with bloodlust, it is difficult for me to differentiate between friend and foe. My power seeks to leech the life out of everything in its path. I truly become a monster.”

She shivered, the wintry chill penetrating through her thin clothes, even more so now that Feng Mian’s magic wasn’t keeping them warm anymore. But also because of his words, because if he became a destructive beast who couldn’t tell the difference between her and their enemies … then she would have to keep that in mind for next time.

“You aren’t a monster, Feng Mian,” Zhi Ruo finally said.

“Even your lies are too sweet,” he murmured.

“Feng Mian …” She wanted to argue with him, but found she was too exhausted. Her wet dress clung to her body uncomfortably, and her quivering muscles and skin felt rough against the freezing winds. She closed her eyes and rested the side of her face on his chest. “You will never be a monster to me, and I don’t want to argue with you about it either.”

He chuckled softly. “Are you telling me to be quiet?”

“Yes.” She pulled back to stare up at him; even in the dark, his hair and eyes shone silver. “We need to treat your injuries.”

“We have to move first.” His expression turned grim and he pursed his lips together, his head turning toward the bodies. “If they were able to find us this easily, then Wyer is close by.”

“The snow is getting worse.” Tension knotted in the pit of her stomach as she tipped her head back to stare at the misty sky, heavy with fluttering snow. She could imagine being trapped in a snowstorm, unable to escape the frost and hail.

“We can use that to our advantage. If we are unable to advance, then so is Wyer.” He pointed in the direction they were headed. “I feel in the distance that there is a small … building, or shed, of some sorts, in that direction. Maybe one mile away? We will have to brave through this weather to reach it. It will only worsen.”

They stood like that for a moment, holding onto each other tightly, as if they would lose each other—or part from one another too soon. But eventually, they stripped the corpses of their heavy furs, clothes, and boots, slipping on the apparel of the dead. And then, they headed out into the blustering winds and thickening snow.