Page 18 of Dynasty of the Wicked (The Wicked Princess #1)

18

They trekked through the frozen landscape, plowing through snow up to their knees. Zhi Ruo’s thighs and calves burned, and her hope dwindled as the scenery became less wooded and more open-spaced with hills and valleys. She could imagine it being vast farmland, which wouldn’t serve them well against a chasing army. Her breath streamed out of her mouth in thick clouds, becoming more exasperated the more they waded through powdery snow.

Her boots were too big for her; she had taken them off one of the corpses yesterday, and had discarded her thin, ruined slippers, but she wondered briefly if it would have been better to keep her old ones. At least then she wouldn’t have snow and ice-slush slipping into the wide gap between her shins and the shaft of the boot, freezing her toes.

Feng Mian’s hand tightened in hers and his magic pulsed between them, sending warmth through her goosebump-ridden flesh. His cheeks were ruddy and wind-chapped, and when he tilted his head in her direction, a pang of worry shot through her.

“They’ll be here soon.”

Zhi Ruo stiffened, her hand going slack in his. “No … No .”

“I can’t tell how many there are, but their numbers are great.” He stopped in his tracks and she almost collapsed beside him. All around them was a tundra of whiteness with a few thin, skeletal trees. They couldn’t hide anywhere and if the army did come upon them now, they could easily be surrounded.

“Are you suggesting we … give up?” Her voice was ripped away by a powerful wind that caused her hair to lash over her face. “Because I will never go back there. Never .”

Her body shuddered at the thought of what Wyer would do to her if he captured them again—torture her, beat her, or assault her in front of his army. Her stomach clenched together and she wanted to vomit, her head feeling light.

A laugh rumbled up his chest despite the grim situation. His lips curved up. “Give up? Come on, Princess, you know me better than that.”

Of course Feng Mian wouldn’t give up. A relieved sigh escaped her lips nonetheless. To know that he still had a fighting spirit within himself. Even as the odds were stacked against their favor.

He tilted his head in the direction behind them, his pretty mouth pursing together, smile fading. “There are … dozens of them, that much I can ascertain. I will try to take on the brunt of them and leech them of their life. You … you must use your magic to kill as many as you can, too.” A hand squeeze. “Don’t let your magic run wild, Princess, because you might not be able to control it like last time. If at any point you feel like you can’t fight … find me, and I will take care of it.”

Take care of it .

She didn’t want to think about what he meant by that. How were they supposed to fight against an army by themselves? She had fought as hard as she could last time, and had killed countless Kadians, but that had been accidental. Her magic had consumed her, spreading chaos to everyone around her. She wasn’t sure if she could repeat it.

But she didn’t have time to think about that, because Wyer’s army crested the top of the hill in the distance, and her stomach dropped at the sheer size of them. Dozens of soldiers rode on horses who clomped and plowed through the thick snow. She gripped Feng Mian’s hand tighter. The army had spotted them, she was sure.

He exhaled deeply, releasing her hand and flexing his fingers. There was a wild sheen in his eyes. “Are you ready?”

They would be upon them in minutes.

Zhi Ruo willed her magic to come to the surface, but only sheer panic reared its head. Her hands trembled and she clasped her stiff fingers together to feel something. “I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

She quickly took out the daggers she had stored in the cloak’s pocket and fastened her hands around the leather hilts. They were too heavy for her, and she felt clumsy just holding them, but it was better than nothing. She still didn’t have a clear grasp on her magic, so she felt better with a weapon.

Zhi Ruo stared at the horizon of horses and riders. There must have been a hundred of them—maybe one-hundred-and-fifty. So definitely not the whole army, but enough to make her insides roil with nausea.

Wyer was in the front of the pack, bluish-green magic bursting from his hands as he cleared a path along the snowy landscape. She wished in that moment that she could go back to a few hours ago, when she was snuggled in Feng Mian’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder, with the occasional feather-like kiss against her temple. She forced herself to think back to that, and how she wanted to protect it, to have that moment again.

She could feel something swirl beneath the surface of her skin, as if ready to explode. A breath raked out of her shakily, painfully, as Wyer’s army closed in.

Feng Mian raised his hand, and the black veins on his skin stood out more, thickening and raising in ugly lines. And then, a blast of shadows burst from him.

Zhi Ruo was blown backward as a sea of writhing, screaming, shadows engulfed the first wave of soldiers. She tightened her clammy hands on the daggers, eyes widening as everything became consumed in black. She blinked, but before relief could get the better of her, Wyer and a few dozen soldiers broke through the chaos, no longer riding their horses. Blue magic glowed from their bodies, protecting them against the blackness that leeched life out of their comrades.

The army surrounded them instantly, and Feng Mian drew his blade the next second, clashing against the nearest soldier. Zhi Ruo tripped backward as a soldier cleaved his sword where she had stood, her heart hammering in her chest. One of the daggers slipped from her hand as she rolled away from his second attack.

“Don’t kill her,” Wyer snarled, coming from her left. Veins throbbed on his neck. He shoved his soldier toward Feng Mian, never ripping his gaze from her. “She’s mine .”

She scrambled to her feet, circling Wyer and raising her one dagger up at him. In her peripheral vision, Feng Mian’s shadows lashed out at anyone who drew near to them, causing the soldiers to fall to their knees, their faces bloodless as they collapsed. Only those with magic seemed to be able to trespass close to them. But Feng Mian dealt with them, his magic whipping around them in a circle, lashing at anyone who drew closer.

Wyer’s lips peeled back into a snarl. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me, Princess ?” He spat the word out like poison, his eyes narrowing to slits.

He lunged at her, sword aimed at her shoulder, and she barely stepped away, her legs leaden and numb in the cold. She raised her free hand and Wyer leaped backward, his sword raised defensively.

She expected a torrent of magic to writhe from the edges of her rage, to blast him into smithereens, but nothing happened.

Her panic swelled.

Wyer’s mouth curved higher, sharper. “Having trouble?”

He flicked his wrist and green spears of magic shot toward her. The magic hit her square in the chest, the shoulder, and the leg, before disappearing. A scream erupted from her throat as she was flung backward and a crippling pain shocked through her system, making her toes curl and her limbs seize. Shadows danced in the corners of her vision—she wasn’t sure if it was Feng Mian’s magic, or her own consciousness fading.

She could hear Wyer approach her, his boots crunching beneath the snow. In the distance, Feng Mian grunted and roared in battle, steel clashing with steel, the cries of Kadians erupting all around them.

Zhi Ruo gritted her teeth together, blinking at the snow-filtered sky. A swirl of dark magic vibrated on her fingertips. She tried grasping the weapon that she had been holding, but she must have dropped it, because her hands were empty.

“You shouldn’t have tried to run,” Wyer sneered, voice drawing closer. “You should have remained as you were. I always track down what’s mine, and you are no exception, Princess .”

She rolled onto her stomach, gasping at the sharp jabs throbbing where she had been hit, and clenched her teeth together to keep from screaming. She pushed herself into a sitting position, but another flash of glowing green magic hurtled her back to the ground. Her mouth opened to scream as white-hot pain dug into her shoulder, but no sound came out. Her muscles contracted, her body going stiff with shock and pain again.

“You useless, stupid bitch ,” he continued, cracking his wrists.

Her magic roared, singing in her veins, screaming at her to use it. But she was stuck, mouth wide open, body turning cold and frozen.

“You killed dozens of my men. Do you really think you can ever escape from me?”

She could barely hear his threats, her mind overcome with midnight shadows which twirled and curdled her own blood. It was as if a mist was curtaining her gaze, tunneling her vision as more magic leaked into the fibers of her being. She could feel it spreading, inch by inch, throughout her body. Her magic thrived with the pain, seeming to grow, and grow, until she couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Finally, a delayed scream ripped from her mouth and she sprang up to her feet with a strength she didn’t know she had. She didn’t know when it happened, or how, but she was suddenly in front of Wyer, her fingers wrapped around his throat.

He slapped her fingers away, lurching back on his feet. His eyes were wide, a trembling hand touching his bruised throat.

“What—”

Her grin stretched, black shadows whipping over the snow in thick streaks. It was like she had no control of her body. She moved without thinking, without prompt. She was in front of him again, fists swinging. He held up his hand to deflect, or to catch her fist, but her punch crushed through bone easily. A howl of pain escaped him as he staggered back, a look of shock flashing over his once-cruel face.

She jumped forward, punching him again. This time, he dodged, his sword raised to put more distance between them. She felt like she was on fire, the magic leaking out of her in bursts of black, thickening and coating everything she touched. Jab after jab, she moved on instinct. He hit her with his own magic, but she barely felt a thing, her shadows softening the blows. Or maybe her brain had shut everything off other than to kill .

She had no idea which it was and, frankly, she didn’t care.

Wyer tackled her, green flames burning from his fingertips as he wrestled her wrists onto the ground, pinning her in place with his heavy body. He growled, a bluish aura steaming off his body like a barrier.

“Stop resisting,” he hissed.

Her body felt like a cauldron, ready to boil and bubble forth. She yanked her wrists away, but his magic fastened her in place. She snarled incoherently, trying in vain to escape.

A cruel smile spread on his face. “You are better this way. Pinned underneath me, with nowhere to run.”

Rage like she had never felt before burst from within her, somewhere deep and dark, where all her scars and terrible memories were stored. She could feel her skin tightening, her muscles clenching, and her mind going blank as a red, blood-like anger overtook everything .

“I will never be yours!” she shouted from deep within herself.

She shoved him off her, wave after wave of inky black death frothing from her hands. He screamed, falling to the ground several feet from her. She rose to her feet slowly, more undulations of power rising from her being. She curled her fists together, and uncurled, and did it again. Her breathing slowed.

She felt so powerful in that moment. Time seemed to slow. Wyer was writhing on the ground, her shadows attacking him like blackish specters, their hands clawing at his face, his arms, and his chest. The other Kadians fought against Feng Mian and his magic; their numbers had dwindled down to a few dozen.

Hope surged in her chest.

She snapped her attention back to Wyer, willing her shadows to consume him more. To drain his life like Feng Mian’s cursed magic had always done. “You are an accursed, loathsome excuse of a man,” she said with enough vitriol to burn him to the ground. “And if you think I will be your queen and reign beside you—you are more of a fool than I thought. I am the villain to you Kadians, and a royal among my people. I will never be yours.”

Wyer screamed, his nails raking over his face as the wisps of black magic ate away at his flesh, draining his life slowly. His skin was beginning to turn discolored and gray, his eyes a dull blue. And yet he was still alive, thrashing and rolling on the ground.

Zhi Ruo’s breathing became labored and she raised her head to stare at the others; Feng Mian was dueling three soldiers and the rest were combatting ghastly humanoid monsters he had conjured. She blinked back in shock at the shadowed beings. They twisted their long limbs in unnatural, bent positions, their mouths an open chasm of dripping blood. And their screams—they echoed through her own bloodlust, sending ripples of goosebumps over her flesh.

How much of Feng Mian’s life was he trading for these monsters? The thought sent a shudder down her spine, and she clenched her fists together tightly to keep from trembling in fear and panic. She had to fight too, before his magic ran out and the curse spread all the way over him.

Zhi Ruo picked up her discarded daggers and headed toward the first soldier closest to her. He fought against the phantom-like creature, his sword sliding through the shadowy figure. A puddle of blood oozed out of the eyes and mouth holes of the creature’s ghastly, grinning face. It lunged at the man, who shrieked and fell to the ground, his limbs flailing in every direction as the creature stuck its face near his and drew his blood. Zhi Ruo’s steps faltered, her horror rising as the man’s eyes rolled backward, his life and blood draining from him in seconds.

She resisted the urge to vomit, turning her attention to another soldier, but they too were being consumed by the dark creatures. It was then that she saw Feng Mian a dozen feet away wrenching his blade out of the chest of one of the soldiers he was fighting. He shifted his attention to his surroundings, panic drawn all over his face.

Her heart stuttered.

“Feng Mian—” she began, voice raspy.

“Zhi Ruo! Princess! Where are you?!” He spun around, his blind eyes tracking nothing. “Zhi Ruo!”

“Here!” She stumbled forward through thick blood-colored snow and shadow magic that stained the surroundings in wisps of rotting brown and purple. At the edges of her vision, Kadians fought the creatures, a cacophony of screams filling the early morning air. “Feng Mian!”

He whipped his head in her direction, eyes wide, breath coming out in small gasps. He held his hand out. He was a dozen feet away. “Come here! Don’t go near the ghouls!”

The creatures were ghouls, then. But she had no idea what that meant. Only that they were dangerous and blood sucking.

As if on cue, the ghoul that had been feasting on the closest Kadian soldier to her tilted its head in her direction. Its mouth was curved into a grisly grin. A shock jolted through her system. These things were from nightmares—pure evil.

The creature lunged at her. She bit back a scream, reeling away as the ghost-like shadowy figure missed her by a hair’s breadth. A death-like coldness followed in its wake, leeching whatever warmth she had. Her legs felt leaden, stuck, as she stared at the creature; it slowly turned around, its mouth open to scream high-pitched.

Nausea and fear rolled over her. It would kill her—she could tell that much from one look. And it was hungry.

She didn’t think twice, she bolted toward Feng Mian, who was plowing through the snow, turning left and right in search for her.

“Feng Mian! Feng Mian!” She bit back a scream as she rolled away from another ghoul, its spindly fingers grazing her shoulder. She shivered, a white-cold pain numbing her arm, as if the life had been drained from her flesh. The dagger dropped from her hand, and she didn’t bother looking at the injury as she sprinted faster, thighs burning, calves tightening.

She crashed into his body and he instantly wrapped his arms around her. The ghouls seemed to be ignoring him, likely because he had summoned them, but she had a haunting idea that once these specters ate away the life of all these soldiers … they would turn on him too.

He pulled her back, breathing heavy. She could see the curse had spread up his neck, nearly brushing at his chin. “Did they touch you?”

“No—” But then she remembered her shoulder, and she flinched, trying to move her stiff fingers. “Yes. Yes, they did.”

The space around his eyes tightened and he exhaled shakily. “Okay, we need to get out of here. Now .”

“Okay—”

He grabbed her face in his hands, panicked, and indecision flickering over his gray eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”

“No, no. We can talk later.” She placed her hand atop his. “We have to leave. Should we find a horse that’s alive?”

He didn’t have to tell her about how apologetic he was for summoning these creatures; he had done it for their survival. But there was something about his expression that made her pause, that made her wonder if there was some other reason he was apologizing. But she quickly banished that thought.

“No.” He closed his eyes. “They’ll catch us and kill us.”

She shivered again. So she was right, they would kill them too, once they were done with everyone else.

“I didn’t want to do this, and I’m so sorry, but you will be in danger once I do—” He grasped her face tightly, brushing his lips against hers swiftly. “When we arrive there, you mustn’t tell them your real name. You are not a MuRong, do you understand me? You are not a princess, nor are you Zhi Ruo. Pick another name. Please .”

“What—What are you talking about?” She licked her lips, confused, trying hard not to stare at the ghouls whipping around them in steaks of black. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t have time to answer. She could feel the flicker of his magic spreading over her body, nausea rolling in her stomach tightly. His mouth opened, but she barely heard the words as their surroundings changed violently.

“ I’m sorry .”