Page 19 of Dynasty of the Wicked (The Wicked Princess #1)

19

The ghastly black figures of the ghouls, the screaming Kadian solders, the hills of white—all of it was ripped from her eyes in a split second, replaced by beige and forest-green tents, soldiers in dark uniforms, and a blaze of fire. The sounds of shrieks, bones and sinews snapping, and gurgling blood disappeared. The smells of death and decay were replaced with cooked chicken, woodsmoke, and sweat. The change was so violent that Zhi Ruo’s stomach seized and she vomited in the next second; Feng Mian held onto her waist as she doubled over, her head feeling like it was going to split open. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in heavily.

Where were they? What had happened?

She could hear people murmuring, someone shouting something, and the popping and crackling of fire. She peeled her eyes open and was met with dozens of Huo soldiers staring at them wide-eyed. She blinked, and slowly looked around her surroundings, her queasiness increasing with her confusion. They were in a war camp. Green and silver MuRong banners streamed with the wind, erected beside giant tents.

“Feng Mian?” A man approached them, his dark hair slicked back into a high bun, a silver crown pinning his hair in place, and eyes like starless night. A slow, dimpled smile spread on his face. “Feng Mian! Where have you been? Took you long enough.”

“I know.” Feng Mian’s shoulders sagged, and he winced, as if suddenly feeling the pain of battle. There was blood streaked on his face, and his shoulder was bleeding.

The man paused in front of them, his gloved hands going to his hips as he inspected them both. Zhi Ruo couldn’t stop staring at him, her chest tight and uncomfortable. He looked just like her father—so similar to the point that she was terrified that it was Father. A youthful, more promising, smiling version of him.

Fear made her stomach coil tighter and she resisted the waves of nausea that rolled over her. She trembled, a deep-seated panic telling her that she needed to lower herself onto her knees and lower her gaze—no one was allowed to meet the emperor’s gaze unprompted, and he had seen her use magic, hadn’t he?

Spit collected in her mouth, and she heaved again, vomiting into a puddle beside the slush-ice and frozen mud. Bitter bile coated her tongue and she shivered.

“Ah, warping isn’t easy on the stomach,” the man continued cheerily. He clapped Feng Mian on the shoulder; Feng Mian stiffened, hissing in an inhale. The man paused, staring at the injury. “Right, you were in battle? We can talk after your wounds are taken care of. Lanying, can you take them to the infirmary?”

“On it,” a singsong female voice lulled from the crowd.

Zhi Ruo’s eyebrows tugged together. Did he say warping ? She had heard about it before, but had never witnessed it herself. It was high magic that allowed the user to instantaneously go to a different location. It was a complicated, extremely difficult type of magic that practically nobody used because of how dangerous it was. There were so many stories of trained mages making mistakes and leaving limbs or other body parts behind. She didn’t know if she should be impressed that Feng Mian had been able to successfully warp them somewhere, or horrified at the risk he had taken.

Feng Mian pressed a gentle hand on her lower back. “Are you well enough to walk?”

“I am,” she croaked, straightening. She peered over at the man, and quickly averted her gaze when he turned to her.

“We should all chat once you’re both recovered,” the man said, still smiling. “It’s good to have you back, Feng Mian.”

Feng Mian only nodded back.

A woman with bone-straight, shoulder-length hair came to stand beside the man, a grin twisting her thin lips. “Yes, Feng Mian, good to see you.”

Feng Mian scowled. “Just lead the way, Lanying.”

The woman, Lanying, flashed her snaggletoothed smile at Zhi Ruo and waved them both forward. Feng Mian remained rooted in place and Zhi Ruo had to tug him in her direction. There were probably too many people for him to know who was who, and what meant what. They followed the woman through the crowds; people stared at them as they went, and a few greeted Feng Mian, who grunted a response back.

“You’ve lost so much weight,” Lanying said, glancing over her shoulder at them. She had a sword strapped to her waist and metal armor that shone like it was brand-new. “And who are you, by the way?”

Zhi Ruo opened her mouth to say something, but Feng Mian was quicker. “My wife.”

Lanying gasped, spinning around to face them, eyes wide. “ Wife ?”

“Yes,” he gritted out, a scowl forming on his face. “No need to sound so shocked.”

“Well, I am shocked.” The woman placed a hand on her chest. “Who, in their right mind, would want to marry you ?”

“Fuck you, Lanying,” he snapped.

Lanying giggled and parted the flap of one of the tents open, ushering them inside. Lines of unused beds filled the tent. An old man with a hunched back sat at the end of the tent on a stool, his leathered fingers unfurling a yellowed scroll. Upon their entrance, he glanced over at them, his bushy brows pushing further up his crinkled forehead.

“Ah, Lady Lanying,” he said, squinting at the both of them with a gasp. “Lord Zheng! Oh my, I heard you were captured?” He jumped to his feet and waved to the beds. “Please, have a seat. Both of you.” Then to Lanying. “ All of you.”

Lanying plopped down one of the thin mattresses while Feng Mian helped Zhi Ruo onto the one closest to them. He motioned to Zhi Ruo, his mouth pursed into a straight line. “She’s nauseous.”

“Oh?” The older man shifted his brown eyes to her. “Pregnancy, perhaps?”

Zhi Ruo’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and even Feng Mian stiffened. “Not possible,” she said with a short laugh, while Lanying watched them both carefully, no longer grinning.

“Not possible?” the old man asked.

“Yes.” Her cheeks grew hot as everyone stared at her. She didn’t know much about pregnancy, but seeing as how she had lost her virginity just last night, she doubted she could be pregnant this soon. It just wasn’t possible.

“It’s because I warped her here.” Feng Mian shifted on his feet, a sudden tiredness on his face. He slowly lowered himself on the empty bed beside her. “We were fighting Wyer’s forces and I had no choice but to summon the ghouls. It … it all happened so fast, and I had to warp us here.”

“Ghouls?” All the color drained from Lanying’s face. “Why did you?—”

“It’s a long, long story.” He sighed, and Zhi Ruo’s discomfort rose.

They were in a war camp, with people who clearly knew him, and she was … an outsider to it all. She had known, of course, that Feng Mian had a life outside of her, and that he belonged to some sort of military unit, but seeing him like this, talking to these people who she didn’t even know, made her feel uneasy. It made her realize that she didn’t really know much about him at all.

Lanying tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and Zhi Ruo noticed the lines of rings pierced along the shell of her ear, all of them glimmering bright silver even in the dim lighting of the tent.

“We can talk about the details later,” Lanying said. “But why didn’t you warp here sooner? We’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Not sick enough,” he said with a scoff.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he snapped, his lips curling into a frown. “Where the fuck were you all when I was rotting in that prison cell?”

She reeled back, two splotches of red coloring her cheeks. “Well, we were fighting a war , Feng Mian.”

“You were probably fucking Chanming the whole time, while I was getting tortured by those bastards.”

“ W-What ?”

The physician fiddled with his fingers, clearly uncomfortable with the line of conversation, while Lanying stared at Feng Mian with her mouth hanging ajar. Finally, she lurched to her feet and stomped over to the entrance of the tent.

“You’re as foulmouthed as ever. I feel sorry for even worrying about you,” she seethed, before disappearing off.

A moment of silence followed the wake of her exit. The physician cleared his throat and smoothed his hands over his knees. “May I check your injuries, Lord Zheng?”

“Check her first.” Feng Mian waved to Zhi Ruo. The blood on his shoulder had already dried to some degree, dark scarlet blooming over the injury, and there were spots of red caking his brilliant hair, his cheeks, and his neck. The black curse mark continued to pulse beneath his flesh; it was outlined on his throat vividly now.

“Are you injured, dear?” he asked her, his gaze raking over her soiled, bloodied, damp clothes.

She tried flexing her fingers but found she could barely move her right hand, dull pain shooting up the stiff limb. A grimace ran over her body as she remembered the ghoul’s gangly fingers slicing through the flesh of her shoulder—it had barely grazed her, and yet her whole arm was numb, tingling, and tender.

“My right arm,” she said hoarsely, her throat dry. “I can’t really move it. I was also attacked by some sort of magic …”

The physician approached her, pausing. “Is it all right if I look?”

She hesitated. She had her royal tattoo on her left shoulder, and if he saw that, he would know for sure that she was a royal. How would she hide it from him?

“Physician Wu.” Feng Mian’s voice was low, his expression pulled taut. “I need your word that you will not tell a soul what you see here.”

The old man wove his fingers together, gaze flicking between the two of them. “Lord Zheng, is something the matter?”

“I need your word.”

“Lord Zheng.” Physician Wu’s brushy eyebrows pulled together quizzically, and Zhi Ruo could tell he was offended by the lack of trust Feng Mian had in him, but he pushed that hurt aside and nodded slowly. “All right, all right. You have my word.”

Feng Mian held his hand out, black wisps of shadows curling above his fingertips like smoke. “Your word, then? That you will never utter or try to reveal our secret here?”

Physician Wu stared at his outstretched hand. “Lord Zheng, is it necessary to bind me to an oath?”

“It is.”

“All right.” He reluctantly pressed his palm against Feng Mian’s, and a twirl of smoke-like blackness crawled up his skin, twirling above his heart and then disappearing into his mouth. The older man sputtered like he had tasted something foul, before wiping his lips.

Feng Mian rose to his feet and yanked the curtains to section her bed off from the rest of the tent. Although nobody was here but them, it was probably better to make sure nobody could intrude and see something they shouldn’t.

“Dear, please undress so I may see your wounds,” he said, glancing over at Feng Mian. “It is probably best that you leave, Lord Zheng. I do not want to dishonor the lady by having you present while she is disrobed.”

“I’m blind.” He lifted an eyebrow and Zhi Ruo resisted the urge to grin. She might have even laughed, but she found that she was too nauseous, confused, and shocked to do anything but stare and grin.

“I’m aware.” The physician nodded. “But it is still improper.”

“But—” Feng Mian’s attention drew to her and a slow smile curved his lips. “She is my wife and, I assure you, I know her body better than anyone else. So I will stay.”

Physician Wu blinked, surprised, before nodding. “Ah, very well. Then you shall stay, so long as the lady is all right with that?”

“I am,” Zhi Ruo said, a blush spreading over her face. It was strange to have Feng Mian introduce her as his wife to all of these people. It made it all the more real that they were a couple. Because when they were alone, in the prison cell, in the cabin, or slogging through thick snow, it was easy to feel that they were a couple in those moments, but not outside of that. Because the outside world knew nothing of their marriage—but now, it wasn’t a secret.

She eased off the sleeve of her dress, wincing as numbing pain shot through her shoulder and arms, making her fingers jerk reflexively. Breathing out deeply, she slipped the dress off until it hung down to her waist. Her hands went to her breasts, covering as much as she could, before she dared spare a glance at the old man.

His eyes were wide and trained on the royal tattoo on her shoulder. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, but no words came out. The white-washed curtains behind him seemed to blend in with his suddenly pallid complexion.

“You … Well.” He nodded slowly, rubbing his clammy hands on his thighs. “I can see why you wanted to keep it hidden.”

Normally, all Huo citizens would be thrilled to have a royal in their presence, but these people … these people didn’t seem to care. In fact, she was in danger here.

Feng Mian’s posture remained stiff and he waved at Zhi Ruo. “The examination?”

“Yes, yes.” He lifted her arm and she gasped in pain, squeezing her eyes shut. He nodded again, moving her fingers, and then other parts of her body. He examined her from head to toe, before disappearing through the curtains to one end of the tent, and coming back with a small vial and a jar. “The magicked attacks will heal, though they have bruised you. It is more like a phantom pain than anything else, but that doesn’t mean the pain isn’t there . Time will heal them. What I am more concerned about is the ghoul’s attacks. Ghouls attack your very soul, so the damage is much more severe.”

She had no idea what he meant, but it sounded grim, and she could only bob her head slowly. “Will I be healed?”

“Eventually. We can speed up the process by having someone heal you with magic.” He placed the medicines on the bedside table. “There is no one here who can help with that, but even if you do not receive help here, I’m sure you can find someone. Lord Zheng is not skilled in healing.”

Feng Mian’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

“Here, dear.” Physician Wu had uncorked the vial and held it out to her, which she hesitantly took. “This will help with the pain and nausea.”

She was just about to take a swig of it when Feng Mian snatched the vial from her hand. She yelped back in surprise. He sniffed the contents, much to Physician Wu’s horror.

“L-Lord Zheng?” The old man swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“I have to make sure you’re not trying to poison her.” Feng Mian lowered the glass vial, his eyes narrowing. “You made an oath that you wouldn’t tell a soul, not that you wouldn’t harm her.”

“I am a physician .” He sounded hurt, betrayed, and offended, and his mouth trembled.

“A physician is able to heal just as readily as he is able to kill.”

“I swear that I only have good intentions toward the lady,” he continued. “But if you don’t trust me, I will gladly leave?—”

“No, you will heal her.”

“Lord Zheng …”

Zhi Ruo grimaced at the interaction between the two. “Feng Mian, I think it’s fine.”

He hesitated before handing the vial back to her. A look of mistrust shone in his eyes. “This wouldn’t be the first time someone lied and betrayed me.”

The physician huffed and rose to his feet. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the look on Feng Mian’s face made him simply gesture toward the second jar on the nightstand. “That is herb ointment to help with the various cuts and bruises on your body. Now, if you both will excuse me, I have other patients to tend to.”

He swiftly exited the tent, making it two people who Feng Mian had offended and made storm off. Zhi Ruo pursed her lips and gave him a steady look, though she was aware he couldn’t see her scowl. Nonetheless, he frowned back.

“You are too trusting, especially for a royal.” He sat beside her on her bed, his fingers grazing the injury to her shoulder where the ghoul had attacked her. He took the second jar off the nightstand table and sniffed it, his nose crinkling. “Smells like shit, so it’s probably safe.”

“You didn’t have to be so rude,” she said with a sigh, bringing the vial of dark liquid to her nose. It smelled strongly of bitter herbs. She didn’t have to taste it to know it was foul.

“Like I said, you are too trusting.” He gently scooped the thick ointment out of the vial and stroked her injury. She hissed in pain, tightening her hold on the bottle and curving her free hand on the edge of the bed. The medicine burned, causing her muscles to seize momentarily.

She drank the bitter concoction as Feng Mian continued prodding her injuries with the medicine. As she expected, it was rancid tasting, the fumes going straight to her nose. She gagged, smacking her mouth together to get rid of the sticky, gross residue stuck in her mouth.

“I have never been targeted before,” she said. “I’m not important enough to be assassinated.”

“Things are different here.” His lips flattened into a straight line. “When I was younger, I was attacked several times. Some assassins from my father, some from my father’s concubine, and once or twice from distant relatives vying for the heir title.”

It wasn’t a unique experience, she was sure. She had heard countless tales of nobles and heirs who had been assassinated by family members who wanted their position. If she remembered correctly, he was the son of General Zheng’s first wife. All of General Zheng’s other children were daughters from his second wife.

“How were you able to survive?” She placed a gentle hand on top of his.

“My mother protected me. She will kill anyone who gets in my way.” He lifted his shoulders. “But being around her … is difficult. She wished to give birth to a powerful son after years of infertility, and then she had me, and I was a great, great disappointment to my mother and father. He ended up taking another wife, or concubine, or whoever the fuck that bitch is.” He helped Zhi Ruo pull her dress back on, his finger skimming over her neck. There was a faraway look on his face. “My mother would have killed her too, and I think she tried to a few times, but my father always protected that woman. Unfortunately, it caused a big rift between my parents that never mended. Can you imagine that? A couple who is so in love with each other that they remain together even after a decade of infertility? Only to be torn apart by a cursed, blind son like me.”

Zhi Ruo touched the side of his face with her uninjured hand, her thumb grazing over his cheek, easing the harsh expression off. “Don’t speak about yourself like that. They were supposed to protect you, and they failed.”

“My mother tried,” he said, softer this time. She could see the pain in his eyes, though there was a stronger emotion that burned in his gaze, that made his jaw screw together—a rage she had seen in him several times before. “But at the same time, she viewed me as someone incapable of doing anything. Someone who always needed to be protected. Someone … useless.”

“Feng Mian?—”

He shook his head. “We can talk about this all later. We need to first figure out what we’re going to do moving forward.”

She had dreaded this conversation, because a part of her already knew what he was hiding from her. She didn’t want to face it; she wished she could remain ignorant and simply feel safe here. But she needed to hear it from him.

“I agree.” She dropped her hands onto her lap. Her arm tingled, her numb fingers resting in one hand. “You tell me that I am unsafe here, that I am unwelcome, that I must hide my name. Normally, these conditions wouldn’t make sense.”

His shoulders stiffened. Mouth screwed tight together.

Everyone in the empire would be more than happy to help a royal in hopes that the emperor would reward them and remember them. Almost everyone.

“You are aligned with Li Chanming,” she murmured, staring at her husband, her love.

He winced, but didn’t deny it.

Her mouth felt dry, the bitter taste from the medicine still coating her heavy tongue. “The man who pledged to usurp my father, and the man who wishes to kill the royal family. The False Emperor.”