Page 17 of Dynasty of the Wicked (The Wicked Princess #1)

17

Zhi Ruo awoke to the sound of the blusterous winds rattling the windows; she groggily peeled her eyes open, blinking at the early morning light streaming through the fogged, frost-tinged glass panes. The fire flickered softly in the hearth, Feng Mian’s magic no longer causing it to burst and pop. In the quiet like this, it was easy to forget that they were on the run, that they weren’t safe yet.

She turned her head to find Feng Mian fast asleep beside her, one arm serving as her pillow, and the other one draped over the hard muscles of his abdomen. His silvery-white lashes brushed over his cheeks, and the black magic pulsing beneath his skin appeared darker, angrier, in the morning light. The blanket only covered half his body, since Zhi Ruo had somehow tangled herself in it more than him. She grinned, pushing the blanket over his bare chest.

For a moment, she wished that things were different. That they were in their own home, waking up in each other’s arms like this, with the sun blinking through the windows at them, and a calm ambience surrounding them. She would have loved to wake up like this—to see him, to nuzzle her face against his neck and breathe in his scent.

Zhi Ruo sat up slowly, every muscle in her body aching. The hard floor hadn’t done her any favors, not even with the inch-thick straw sleeping mat. The draft chilled her naked body and she hugged herself, suppressing a shiver. They had barely slept, interlocked in each other’s arms all night long. A flush spread over her face at the memory of it. She had no idea … that she was capable of such things. Or that sex was this … intimate, vulnerable, passionate, and romantic. She couldn’t even think of the cruder version of Feng Mian’s words without blushing—that they had fucked . It sounded too … vulgar and unromantic, but she wondered if he only saw it that way, and that she was the only one who thought of it romantically.

She shook those thoughts from her head; she didn’t have the luxury of concerning herself with those worries—they were on the run. She needed to focus. She couldn’t think about his body, or if he loved her, or …

Subconsciously, her gaze trailed over to the hard planes of his chest. The padded bandages around his shoulder had seeped blood at some point from their coupling, but he hadn’t seemed to mind. Her face flushed with more heat.

If anyone back in the palace found out … what would they think? That she’d had sex with the Zheng family’s cursed heir? Ying Yue would definitely gasp and gossip with the others. Liena, her maidservant, would probably be aghast.

But she was also married to him. What would they think of that ?

Zhi Ruo ran a hand over her face; she shouldn’t even be thinking about what other people would say, but it was a hard habit to let go. When it came to Father’s court, she always needed to be on her toes. Rumors were enough to get her in trouble, sometimes, so she tried to listen to what others were saying about her. She never wanted to be caught off guard again.

Feng Mian groaned softly, rubbing the side of his face. “Princess? Is it morning?” His voice came out slow and sleep laden. He rolled over on his side toward her, his hand stretching out to touch her thigh.

“It’s morning,” she said, lying back down in his arms.

He pulled her closer to his chest and burrowed his face in her hair. “You smell so fucking good,” he murmured.

The corner of her mouth rose, her cheeks still flaming. She twirled a strand of his silken, white hair between her fingers, watching as the morning light caught in it. “I wish we could lie like this forever.” She noticed the way he tensed. “Maybe someday,” she ventured, her voice becoming small, hopeful.

He didn’t say anything, the sleepiness slowly ebbing from his face. He tightened his hold on her, his lips pressing into a firm line. Her chest pulled tight, and even though she told herself that they didn’t have time to talk about their feelings, it stung that he wasn’t saying anything. For a moment, all her feelings of inadequacy rushed over her in waves. He had probably only slept with her because that’s what men were like. He didn’t care for her—he hadn’t even told her he loved her, even though she had told him several times. And now, when she brought up being together in the future, he was silent. He didn’t want her. He didn’t?—

Feng Mian combed her hair with his deft fingers, framing the side of her face carefully. “If I survive, Princess,” he murmured, pressing his thumb against her cheek. “But you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that I will die in a year or so. This curse will consume me eventually.”

Cracks formed in her heart and she inadvertently curled her fingers into a fist over his chest. Breathing hurt, the possibility of losing him shattered something deep within her. “Don’t talk like that,” she whispered, hating the wobble in her voice.

He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her gently, before pulling back. “I don’t want to hurt you, but?—”

She placed her fingers over his lips. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it.”

Silence filled the space between them. She swallowed down the hard lump in her throat and stared up at the ceiling, suddenly aware of how chilly it was in the small home.

She had to admit that it was rather pathetic that she had latched onto him so tightly—they barely knew each other, and his prior words rang in her ear: Have you been so starved of love that you look for it in places it doesn’t exist ? Maybe it didn’t exist yet, but she had hope. He cared for her. And no matter how pathetic it was that she clung to the first person who had shown her attention, she knew deep down that this was different. If he had been somebody else, she wouldn’t have fallen in love. It was because it was him that she’d fallen so hard. He was like her in many ways. Imprisoned. Abandoned. An outcast in society. A disappointment to his family.

She loved him, and she definitely didn’t want to lose him.

Feng Mian traced lazy circles over her stomach, distracting her from her gloomy thoughts. His fingers travelled further up, his hand cupping her breast, teasing the hard peaks with his thumb and forefinger. “I love the way you feel,” he murmured against her. “Especially when you writhe beneath me.”

A blush spread over her cheeks. “Feng Mian, don’t we have to go?”

He sighed, releasing his hold on her and instead hugging her body close to him. “I don’t really want to.”

“But what if the Kadians—” She stopped herself, her gaze darting to the window. Was it her imagination, or did she hear something?

Feng Mian stilled beside her, his once languid expression turning alarmed. He jerked into a sitting position and Zhi Ruo scrambled up with him, wide eyes trained on the door, and then to him.

“Put your clothes on,” he said.

“Wh-What’s happening? Are they here?” She hurried over to the trunk and snatched the gray dress with the red sash that she had picked out earlier. Meanwhile, Feng Mian threw his clothes on as well, grabbing the sword he had stolen from one of the Kadian corpses.

“They’re close. It feels like the whole fucking army is after us.” He released a string of curses, louder this time, as he jammed his arms through the sleeves of his coat. “I should have noticed.”

“They have horses,” she pulled her cloak over her body, clasping the hook with trembling fingers. Of course they would be faster than them, but she hadn’t thought Wyer would put much effort into catching them. An unsettling dread filled her, and she swallowed hard, grabbing the daggers she had taken from one of the Kadian assailants.

“And magic,” he grumbled. “ Damn it .”

“Why are they trying so hard to catch us?”

“Not us .” He jammed his feet into his leather boots. “ You .”

Zhi Ruo shivered as she slipped her feet into a pair of boots that were much too big. Wyer needed her for his delusional plan of taking over Huo and appointing himself as king; having her as his bride made his potential reign more legitimate. She hated the idea of it.

“Come on.” Feng Mian held his hand out to her just as he yanked the door to the house open. A blast of snow-laden, wintry air blew inside the house, flurries covering the hardwood floor in seconds. Zhi Ruo stepped forward, glancing back at where they had lain just minutes ago. Her throat thickened with unsaid anxieties, and she turned away, slipping her hand in his.