Page 20 of Dynasty of the Wicked (The Wicked Princess #1)

20

Zhi Ruo waited for him to deny it, to tell her that she was being absurd, but he didn’t say anything. Just kept his head down, his white hair curtaining the side of his face. She wanted to reach forward and push back the blood-stained strands, to cup his face and ask him if he was really a part of this. But she squashed that urge, her hands trembling.

“So you really are loyal to him?” Her head spun and she suddenly needed to puke again. “But Feng Mian, he’s treasonous. My father will kill him and everyone loyal to him. Your father?—”

His lip curled back, that word seeming to sober his stiff composure. “I’m already disgraced, Princess. What’s better than aligning myself with their greatest enemy? We will make a new dynasty together.”

She really needed to puke now. She rubbed her forehead, breathing out through her nostrils. “Feng Mian,” she warbled, “he’s … he’s an enemy to the royal family!”

“So what?”

“So what?” Zhi Ruo repeated, touching her chest. She dropped her voice to an angry, desperate whisper. “ I’m a royal, remember? Or did you conveniently forget that?”

“I know, but you’re … you’re not like them.”

“Like them? Like who? My family?” She tried to keep her voice under control, tried to keep the panic out of it, but she felt like she was teetering off the edge. “Did you forget who I am? Feng Mian—” Was he plotting for her family’s death? Was he plotting for her death? Her mind was reeling, trying to think of excuses for him.

But Li Chanming was dangerous, the kind of person who would kill her and her whole family without a thought. Who had treasonously named himself a royal, despite never being accepted as a legitimate heir—though, after seeing him today, she was mostly positive that he was, in fact, her father’s son and therefore her half-brother. He would kill any link to the royal family for his claim to be legitimate enough to win the throne. If it wasn’t for this war with Kadios, he might be dead by now, killed by her father’s forces?—

Unless he had purposefully used this warring time to make a claim to the throne. It was only during chaos like this that he would be able to garner support for protecting the border, for protecting the people against an invasion. And the attack on the palace a few weeks ago …

She clamped a hand over her mouth, all too aware that she was breathing in deeply.

“Princess?” Feng Mian hesitantly clasped his hand in hers; her hand seemed so small nestled within his larger, calloused one. He rubbed her numb fingers. “Are you?—”

“Did he attack the palace? Did he hire all of those people?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Her whole body was trembling, vibrating like a buzzing insect. She watched his face carefully. “The attack on the palace. The day I was kidnapped … Did he plan all of that? Did he hire those assassins?”

His silver eyes flashed with something. “I was already a prisoner by then.”

Her heart sank. “You didn’t answer the question.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Zhi Ruo ripped her hand away from his, her stomach clenching. “You knew?” The betrayal and hurt was clear in her voice, nearly shrill in the quiet tent. “You knew he was orchestrating an attack on the palace? You knew he was trying to kill me?”

“Not you.” His hands balled together on his lap.

“Oh, but just my whole family.” Zhi Ruo laughed bitterly, her eyes watering. “I was just supposed to be collateral damage?”

“No.” He cursed. “Look, Princess, I didn’t even know you back then?—”

“But you know me now! You knew me when we first met in the dungeons! You knew me when we—” When he married her, kissed her, made love with her. He knew that his leader was planning her demise. He knew that she was never supposed to be a part of a future that he was fighting for. At least not as she was. “Was it all a lie?”

She hadn’t meant to sob, but it ripped from her throat and her face crumpled. Pressure built in the back of her eyes. Was he just using her to free himself from the Kadians? Did he sleep with her just because it had been a while since he had been with anyone? Was he planning something sinister with her?

“No, no .”

“No to what? That you didn’t know it was me, or that it was all a lie?” Her voice was shrill when she spoke.

“Shh, not so loud?—”

“Which is it?”

“Princess … Not now, come on.”

“No.” She grabbed the front of his tunic, shaking him slightly. “Tell me!”

He pushed her hands off roughly, his silver eyes narrowing. “Yes, I knew. I knew who you were and that Chanming was planning on killing you all. I even knew that whatever assassins Chanming had hired had failed and gotten greedy when they decided to sell you to the Kadians. I knew they’d fucked up when you were alive.”

Zhi Ruo’s hands went slack as they dropped down on her lap. She stared at him, unblinking, as those words registered to her. She had never felt such a sharp, terrible betrayal. It bit into her very core, twisting like a cold, serrated knife. Tears streamed down her face. “You … knew?”

“Yes, I knew,” he snarled. “But that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t real .”

“Why should I believe you?” she said, another ugly sob wrenching from deep within her. “You never even told me you loved me, so why should I believe that you?—”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her shoulders hunched together and she pressed her palms over her stinging eyes. She wanted to scream loudly, to hit him, to entice some sort of reaction out of him, but she couldn’t bring herself to even look at him. Her heart was breaking; she could feel the shards shattering within her chest, poking at her flesh and slicing through.

“Prin—” Feng Mian started, voice softening, when he suddenly lifted his chin, angling his head toward the entrance. A scowl formed on his face and he rose to his feet. “Someone is coming.”

Zhi Ruo couldn’t stop crying even if she wanted to. She didn’t know what to feel anymore. Did he even care for her? Or was he just stringing her along so he could present her to Li Chanming? He had clearly used her to escape; she should have known something was off when he first offered to marry her for his magic. He was her enemy, him and Li Chanming and everyone in this camp.

“Is everything all right?” a smooth, velvety voice asked.

She stiffened, raising her tear-stained face to meet the black gaze of the False Emperor. He wore a polite smile, though his eyebrows were pulled together in concern. Unlike Father, he seemed to smile more often, but he had something in him that reminded her of Father—that cutting, manipulative gleam in his eyes. He had ordered her and her siblings to die. She remembered a knife buried in Wanqing’s forehead. Father’s concubine’s head rolling on the polished floors. The assassins approaching her with shiny, blood-slickened daggers.

A shudder ran through her body.

“Everything’s fine,” Feng Mian said, voice clipped.

Chanming raised his brows. “It doesn’t look fine to me. Your wife is crying and you’re sitting there looking dumb.” When Feng Mian didn’t say anything, he continued, “Lanying told me all about it. That you have a wife .” He said it like it was a joke, and maybe it was, because she had no idea who Feng Mian was anymore.

“Yes, so?”

“I thought I’d introduce myself.” Another diplomatic smile, but it looked like he was trying not to burst into laughter. It sickened her.

“No need. She knows who the hell you are.” Feng Mian’s frown deepened. “Can you leave us?”

“My name is Li Chanming,” he said, ignoring Feng Mian and lowering his head in respect, eyes twinkling. “I’m terribly sorry if my brute of a friend here made you cry. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call for me or anyone here.”

He almost sounded genuine, but Zhi Ruo had lived in a vicious court. Had grown up in it, and had watched her cruel siblings play as diplomats. She could spot the honeyed lies on his tongue. If he knew who she really was, she was sure he’d slice her throat with that dagger strapped to his waist.

“Thank you,” she croaked, swiping her damp cheeks with her hands. She averted her gaze, an old habit given how unnervingly similar he looked to Father. She also didn’t want him to stare too long at her and try to find similarities in their appearances. Even though they looked nothing alike, they were siblings, after all.

“Your name, sweet lady?”

Feng Mian stiffened. “Chanming?—”

“Shush, you.” He offered her another dimpled smile. “My lady?”

“Zhi—” Her panic flared and she screwed her mouth shut.

“Zhi? A beautiful name. We’ve prepared a tent for you, Zhi. If you don’t mind, I’ll be taking Feng Mian away to have a little chat. To catch up.” It was like he was courteously telling her she was dismissed. She didn’t like it at all. Under normal circumstances, she outranked him. And yet … he was planning on becoming the next emperor.

Maybe he would succeed.

She nodded. “I … All right.”

“Sleep. It’ll do you some good, and then we can talk about how you met Feng Mian, and how you both married each other.” Another twinkle in his eyes. Like it was so damned funny that Feng Mian had chosen her as his bride, as his wife.

And maybe it really was just a big joke. A cruel, cruel joke.

The tent the army had provided her was spacious, with a thick, padded mattress in one corner, fur blankets all around the floor, and a small pile of red coals close to the bed, warming the room. Lanying, the woman she had met earlier, had supplied her with a pot full of warm water, in which she’d taken a slow sponge bath, and then she had stripped out of her clothes and into a set of warm wool dresses. Lanying had offered her leathers like the soldiers wore, but she couldn’t bring herself to wear them. Not when they belonged to her family’s enemies.

She scarfed down the bowl of hot, savory broth Lanying had brought her. The other woman sat across from her, watching as she slurped the greasy noodles and crisp vegetables.

“You look like you haven’t eaten properly in days. All skin and bones.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, stretching her long legs in front of her. “What made you want to marry Feng Mian, of all people? Is he a good lay, or something?”

Zhi Ruo nearly choked on the broth. “What?” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, blinking over at the brazen woman.

“You know. A good fuck.” She raised an eyebrow as if she wasn’t sure why Zhi Ruo was so flustered. “Wait. Did you guys not do it?”

A blush stained her face, and a slow smile spread over Lanying’s face.

“Ah, so you did .” She all but cackled, bringing her thighs to her chest and tucking her chin over her kneecaps. “I just can’t believe you’d marry such a bastard like him. You look like a respectable woman. So I thought, well, hell, maybe the only reason you’re with him is because he can please you.”

She didn’t want to think of their night together, not after discovering the truth. Her mouth tasted like ash. “It’s not like that.”

“Then? I mean, Feng Mian might be pretty, I’ll give him that, but that’s about it. Once he opens his mouth, it’s like a monster is born.”

Even though Zhi Ruo wanted to hurt Feng Mian for the way he had hurt her, she didn’t like the way Lanying was talking about him. She stared down at the noodles bobbing above the oily surface of her broth. “We didn’t have a choice.”

Her throat tightened and she didn’t know how much she should say to the woman. She didn’t know what Feng Mian was planning on telling Chanming, and she suspected their stories needed to be the same … But then again, why did it matter? Feng Mian was aligned with them all. He could have her killed if he revealed the truth. A pathetic, pathetic part of her clung to that as hope.

“Did he … force you?” Lanying tilted her head, concern washing over her face. “I mean, hell, that man is twisted, but I didn’t think?—”

“No, that’s not it.” Her hands tightened around the bowl and she took a long, tentative slurp. When she finished the food, she placed the empty bowl on the floor and laced her fingers together. “We, um, did some sort of magic marriage where we share magic.”

“Ah.” She bobbed her head. “That sounds about right.”

A pause.

“Wait. Why did you need to do that?”

Zhi Ruo hesitated again. “What do you mean?”

“Okay, I think the better question is … How did you meet? What situation were you both in that you needed to resort to that?”

Her head was starting to hurt. She just wanted to crawl under the fur covers and fall asleep for hours. Days, maybe. Her gaze drifted to the bed, and then back to the expectant woman.

“We were imprisoned together by the Kadians. We both needed to escape.” She silently hoped that Lanying didn’t probe any further, but the glimmer in the other woman’s eyes told her she wanted more details. “Anyway, how is the war effort going? I haven’t heard anything since, well, you know.”

“Since you were imprisoned?”

“Yes.” She shifted against the embroidered cushions.

“Why were you imprisoned in the first place? I don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t seem …” Lanying waved her hand, glancing at Zhi Ruo’s simple clothes, and then at her face.

“I don’t seem important?” Her voice came out small. Barely a squeak.

Lanying smiled apologetically. “I didn’t say that .”

“I’m, um, the daughter of a small noble,” she rushed, smoothing down her skirts. “The Kadians didn’t know any better. Anyway, is there any news of the war efforts? I heard from the prison that the royal family was attacked?”

Lanying pursed her lips together, rocking slightly forward and back like a gleeful child. She unfurled herself like a cat, slow and graceful. “Hm. Let’s see … the emperor was stabbed, but the old bastard survived, somehow. Though, I’ve heard he’s at death’s door. Bedridden and shit.” She blinked, glancing over at her sharply. “Ah, sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t say that? It is treason, right?”

Zhi Ruo could only offer a weak smile. She remembered how the assassin had slid his blade into Father’s stomach, and how Father had fallen to his knees. She could still smell the iron in the air, the tension thickening the room, the screams?—

“The crown prince died, and a few other distant, lesser important royals. The only ones who survived are the two princesses,” the woman rattled off. “Oh, and the emperor wanted to see his daughter married off to someone wealthy and powerful, so he could have an heir as soon as possible, so there was supposed to be a giant wedding about two weeks ago? But the princess disappeared a few days before the wedding. Apparently, that devastated the emperor, and he got even more sick.”

All at once, the color drained from her face. “A … a wedding?”

“Yes, a grand one.” She crinkled her nose. “Can you believe that? They were throwing a grandiose fucking wedding while we’re in the middle of a war . There were celebrations for weeks . It makes me sick to my stomach. Here we are dying for our empire, while the emperor is out throwing a fucking wedding of all things for his daughter. Like, I understand he needs an heir, and it’s not like people stop living their lives when things get tough—I mean, hey, look at you, you got married in the thick of war too, right? But let’s be reasonable here. Why throw a lavish wedding while everyone in the empire is suffering? Just shows you how out of touch he is with reality. How much of a slap it is to the face of everyone here who lost their homes, are starving, or have lost their loved ones to this war.”

Zhi Ruo was barely listening to her, her nausea returning full force. Father was throwing a wedding for Ying Yue? All while she had been imprisoned. Did he even … care? She had always suspected that Father truly hated her, abhorred her presence, wished she was never born. But, a small part of her had hoped that it wasn’t true. That maybe he was just cold and stoic, but that he had a sliver of love for her that was buried deep in his love for Ying Yue.

She blinked away the stinging in her eyes. “Ah, that … that sounds just like him.”

“I know what you mean.” The woman sighed, long and hard.

Her head swam. Ying Yue was missing? She had no doubt in her mind that she had likely grown tired of all the wedding festivities and decided to lay low and hide in her mother’s estates, or maybe she was looking for a reason for everyone to pay more attention to her. She highly, highly doubted Ying Yue had gotten kidnapped and imprisoned like Zhi Ruo.

“Do you mind if I go to sleep?” she asked suddenly, no longer in the mood to pretend that everything was okay. Or that her heart wasn’t broken. She pointed to the bed. “I’m honestly just … exhausted.”

“Oh, right. Right.” Lanying clambered to her feet, dusting off her pants. She grinned down at her and scooped up the empty bowl. “I’ll take that away. You just focus on recovering, all right? Sleep well.” And with a wink, she scurried off.

Zhi Ruo didn’t wait another second before crawling over to the fur blankets and slipping underneath them. She pulled them to her chin and curled into a tight ball, a shuddered breath releasing from her body. And like that, she began trembling. The sobs she expected didn’t come; instead, a numbing, deep-seated exhaustion won over her sadness.

Her mind whirled with thoughts of Feng Mian and how he had betrayed her. Their conversations played in her mind, playing tricks on her, making her feel crazy the more she tried to analyze. But all too soon, her eyelids grew heavy, and she fell into a dreamless slumber.