Page 23 of Dynasty of the Wicked (The Wicked Princess #1)

23

Physician Wu frowned at the cuts on Zhi Ruo’s arm as he applied a bitter-smelling salve onto the gashes. She winced as his wrinkled fingers pressed against the injury. He didn’t say anything as he bound the rest of her arm. Not until she was completely bandaged.

“It should heal fine,” he said, voice clipped.

“Thank you.”

“Hmph.”

She could tell he wasn’t particularly pleased with her, especially not after the way Feng Mian had forced the man to take an oath. The entire time she’d been there in the physician tent—five minutes maximum—he had barely spoken to her, only grunting responses here and there. There were a few soldiers napping on some of the beds, but nothing dire that needed his immediate attention.

“You may go,” he finally said when she hadn’t moved off the bed.

Zhi Ruo hesitated and pulled down her sleeve over the bulky bandages. Her other arm, the numb one, was still causing her issues; her fingers felt stiff most of the time. “Is … is there any medication that can help with …”

“Yes?” He waved his hand when she didn’t continue. “What is it?”

“Err.” A blush began to spread over her face and she glanced over at the others in the long tent. Three soldiers were scattered inside. One on the furthest cot, and two others a few cots away from her. She twiddled her fingers together.

Physician Wu sighed, long and hard, and stroked his long, wiry white beard. An impatient tic, she realized. “Well, Lady Zhi? What is it? I have work to do.”

“Something to prevent …” She didn’t know why she was having such a hard time vocalizing what she wanted, but her embarrassment got the better of her. Probably because, even though her and Feng Mian were married, it was strange to admit to others that they were … active with each other.

“Pregnancy?” He lifted a bushy eyebrow.

She nodded mutely, her face feeling hot.

“Do you think you are with child?” He stared at her stomach, as if it would swell at any minute.

“No,” she said. “But I would like to prevent it.”

“Why?”

She blinked up at him, unprepared for such a blunt response. “Well, I … I am afraid.”

“Of what your father will think?” he asked sharply.

Zhi Ruo flinched, her gaze skating over to the others in the room, but they weren’t paying attention. And even if they were, it wasn’t like they knew her father was the emperor.

“You are a married woman,” he continued in stride, grabbing the jars of salve, the mortar and pestle he had used to grind some herbs, and the loose bindings he hadn’t used. “It will do you some good to have a child. Especially considering Lord Zheng doesn’t seem to have long to live, with the way he fights in battle. Perhaps it would be good to give him a child before he …” He waved the jar with a shrug as he turned around and put his tools away. “You know. His eventual demise.”

She followed behind him, her brows knitted together as fear seized her. “What do you mean? Do you think he will die?”

“Eventually.” Physician Wu shrugged, placing his items onto the long table on the far side of the tent. “You do not know this, Lady Zhi, but your husband is a beast out there. He has no awareness besides killing his enemies. There are many times in battle when he has multiple almost lethal wounds on his body, and yet it only spurs him forward. That curse of his … it truly is terrifying. He does not feel pain whilst feeling the rush of his curse. At least that is what I believe.”

It was something she had feared, that Feng Mian had no regard for his own life so he fought brazenly. A shiver ran down her spine. “I still do not wish to be with child so soon.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t want a child with Feng Mian—eventually, she would have loved to have a family with him, one that they could love and nurture, unlike the cruel families they had been given—but the timing wasn’t right.

If her father heard of her marriage, she was sure he’d be upset, furious, even, since she didn’t marry the man he had picked out for her. If she was with child … she could only imagine what horrors her father would do. She could imagine him taking the child and using him, or her, as a means to torture and control Zhi Ruo. She couldn’t be with child until she was completely safe—from her father, Chanming, and everyone who would try to harm her.

Physician Wu nodded slowly. “Well, it is certainly better for Lord Li that you aren’t pregnant,” he muttered, low enough so only she heard. He sifted through his vials and held one out for her. It was murky and dark. “This will help prevent you from becoming pregnant. But, if you are currently with child, this will effectively kill the baby.”

“I have …” She licked her lips. “We have only been active for about two days. Does that … does that mean I can become with child that soon?”

“No, you should be fine.” He handed it to her. “But be cautious when using these types of treatments. Continuous usage can make you infertile.”

She gaped at him. “Well, I do want children eventually.”

“You will probably be fine.”

She closed her hand over the vial and tucked it into one of the hidden pockets of her skirt. She was uncertain when she wanted children with Feng Mian. Their future together was already so confusing and conflicting. If Feng Mian continued to serve under Chanming, their relationship would remain rocky. If Chanming was defeated, and Feng Mian wasn’t branded as a traitor, then they could live together in the Zheng estate, if his father allowed it. Maybe they could start a family then. But … but if Chanming became emperor, then what?

“Is something else bothering you?” Physician Wu ran a damp cloth over the surface of his table and then began moving onto the other beds, where he wiped down the bed frames. “You are free to leave. Unless you need something else from me?”

Zhi Ruo shook her head. “No … I …” She touched the bandages around her arm, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through her limb. She wondered, briefly, why that dragon-child was in the camp, and what his purpose was.

Physician Wu’s gaze tracked down to her arm and he frowned, slowing in his task of cleaning. “It is none of my business, but … but you must stay away from that creature.”

A row of goosebumps rose on her body. “You know of … of the dragon-creature?”

“Everyone here does.” He scrubbed at dark, crusted splotches of blood on one of the bed frames. “Lord Li totes him around in hopes that he will grow to be a powerful dragon, but the demon has never transformed once, and he only hurts everyone around him.”

“Why is he kept locked away?”

“Did you not hear me? He attacks everyone.” He pointed a crinkled finger at her own dressings. “You were attacked last night, weren’t you? It’s clear to see.”

Zhi Ruo hid her arm behind her, as if that was enough to mask the truth. “Where is he kept? Is anyone allowed near him?”

“Why are you interested in him?”

She had no idea. Maybe a part of her felt sympathy for the creature, and maybe another part of her was intrigued. She was sure it was him that had been calling to her, begging her for help. Or maybe it was something magic related. Either way, she wanted to see him again.

When she didn’t answer, he clucked his tongue. “He’s kept chained to a pole during the day. Lord Li was told it was good to give the beast sunlight, so he keeps him on display in the center of the camp. You won’t miss him if you keep searching. Everyone avoids him.”

“Thank you.” She bobbed her head in his direction, but he only waved her off, frowning. She hurried outside the tent, a cold current making her skirts slap against her chilled legs. Feng Mian had left early that morning for a meeting with Chanming to discuss war strategies on pushing the Kadians out of their lands.

Zhi Ruo tugged her cloak tighter around her body; this one was Feng Mian’s, and it was made of wolf’s fur, the material thick and warm. She hurried down the camp, scanning the milling ruddy-faced soldiers as they ate, laughed, sparred. White steam clouded from their mouths, disappearing with every wintry wave carrying soft flurries.

Like Physician Wu had predicted, it didn’t take long for her to find the dragon. He sat on the ground, hunched over with his hands tucked over his feet, reminding her of a cat. His dark hair spilled over to the snow, the strands stringy and knotted at the ends. In the sunlight, his scales appeared even more apparent, the black and silver lining his arms, feet, and parts of his face like armor.

She paused to stare at the child. Chains were attached to the manacles on his wrists, and they were wrapped around the wooden pole that had been recently pounded into the partially frozen earth. It didn’t look strong enough to hold him back, but the dragon-child remained sitting, sharp teeth bared at anyone who drew close to him by accident.

As if he could sense her, his red gaze shifted in her direction. He glared at her, and she was sure he was growling. She inched closer to him, stopping when she was about four feet away. He was still dressed in thin rags. Her cloak was nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning,” she murmured.

He hissed, spittle and embers sparking onto the ground a foot away. She reeled back and stared at the creature. He could breathe fire, she remembered. Why didn’t he burn everyone down, then? He clearly didn’t want to be here.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” she asked quietly.

He continued to glare.

“You are such an angry little beast.” She crouched down until she was at his level. She wanted to reach forward and comb his knotted hair, but she was sure she’d lose her hand if she tried that. “I wonder if I would have become like that, too, if I continued to …”

The words dried up in her mouth. She had been a prisoner in her father’s vicious court, and she had slowly become loathsome toward everyone, particularly her family. Maybe, if enough time had passed, she would become like him. Snapping at anyone who drew near. Baring her teeth at every outstretched hand. And never trusting a soul.

“I see you’re not wearing the cloak I gave you.”

He narrowed his eyes, but at least he stopped growling. That was a good sign.

“Do you have a name?”

No response.

“I cannot keep calling you dragon-child.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. It would be rather presumptuous for her to assume he had no name, and thus name him herself, but maybe she could give him a nickname? What other choice did she have if he wouldn’t supply his name? “What about Drakkon?”

The child stared at her. Blinked. And continued staring.

Her cheeks reddened in response. “It’s a perfectly decent nickname. I know, I know, it simply means Dragon in the Kadian and Sanguis tongue … But it sounds good, doesn’t it?”

He tilted his head.

“The Kadians are our enemies,” she replied after a moment, “so maybe it’s not best to use their language … But you don’t look like you’re from our empire.”

It was true. The people of Huo generally had dark hair—which the child possessed—but their features were different from his. Their faces weren’t as sharp, their noses weren’t as pointed, and their ears … well, she was certain nobody in the world had sharpened ears like he did. So maybe he didn’t fit Kadian standards either.

“All right, it seems you don’t approve.” She frowned. Names that meant dragon. She glanced at the snow, at the soldiers passing them by and giving curious looks, and then at the white sky. “What about Hanlong? It means cold, and dragon?”

He growled, low and throaty.

“You don’t like that?” She tapped her chin. “Shenlong? It means spirit dragon. Bailong? White dragon. Tianlong? That sounds rather celestial, don’t you think? It means heavenly dragon. It’s a mighty name.”

The dragon shifted his red eyes to someone in the distance, his mouth curling back to reveal his sharp teeth once more. He flexed his claws, scraping them against the icy ground.

Snow crunched behind her and she quickly glanced over her shoulder to find Lanying walking over to them, her hand pressed on the hilt of her sword. She stopped a few feet away from Zhi Ruo.

“Making friends with the dragon, I see,” she said with a grin.

Zhi Ruo rose to her feet, dusting off the snow from her shoulders. “I was trying to talk to him. Does he have a name?”

She snorted. “A name? He doesn’t need one. He’s a dragon.”

“But … he seems to understand me.” She motioned to the child, who peered up at them with abhorrent blood-red eyes. The slits down the center seemed thinner than they had last night, likely because it was bright outside.

“Dragons are intelligent, but he is still a beast.” Lanying lifted her shoulders. “It’s best you don’t interact with him too much. He’s chomped off fingers from curious soldiers before. Some took pity on him and, well, they paid for it.”

Zhi Ruo inadvertently touched her injured arm, but quickly dropped her hand. “Don’t you think it’s cruel to have him wear nothing but threadbare clothes in the dead of winter? He must be freezing.”

“He is a dragon.” Lanying gave her a strange look. “He is always warm.”

“But …” She turned back to the dragon, whose toes were red with cold. No matter how much power he must have had, she was certain the wintry chill was getting to him.

“Even if he was cold, who would be able to get close enough to put a cloak on him? Or blankets?” Lanying raked a hand through her silk-liket hair. She flicked off pieces of ice clinging to the damp ends. “We take decent enough care of him, considering he’s an animal.”

An uneasiness pulled at her chest. “But … he is a child .”

“He may look like that.” Lanying thrust a hand in his direction. “But that is not his true form. Chanming accidentally cursed him to be like that.”

Zhi Ruo paused, the gears in her brain coming to a grinding halt. “What?”

“It’s a long story, but do you really think it’s easy to capture a dragon? Chanming needed one, and while trying to capture it, he accidentally killed the mother, and then …” She waved another hand at the child. “Took the child, since he couldn’t leave empty handed. He had to restrain the beast, and whilst using his magic, accidentally restricted him a bit too much. And now the dragon won’t go back to his normal form.”

She said it so flippantly, like retelling a casual story from a week ago, and not a traumatic experience the dragon must have felt. Of course he hated humans, she could imagine, since they were the ones who’d killed his mother, forced him into a humanoid form, and continued to imprison him. A shudder ran down her spine and she blinked back the unexpected burning in the back of her eyes.

“Anyhow.” Lanying tucked her bone-straight hair behind her reddened ears, and breathed warm air against her wind-chapped fingers. “Chanming wants to talk to you.”

A coldness swept over her and she swallowed down the panic clawing up her throat. She hoped Lanying didn’t notice, and she shifted on her feet, the snow and ice cracking beneath her boots. “What does he want with me?”

“No clue, but I’m sure?—”

Someone bumped into Lanying, who crashed against Zhi Ruo, and they both stumbled to the ground. Zhi Ruo yelped, her elbows gnashing against the frozen ground, and the back of her head smacking into a pile of hardened snow. It all happened so fast. One second they were standing there, and the next she was staring up at the vault of grayish white skies. A scream ripped through the air, a snarl sounding above her. A splatter of warmth against her cheek shocked her into sitting upright.

The dragon-child had his mouth on Lanying’s arm, blood gushing from the wound as he bit down, hard, his other hand slicing against her armor, denting it. Lanying struggled with the hilt of her sword, but she was on the ground at an awkward angle, and the creature clawed at her face, her arms, and chest, howling and snarling.

Zhi Ruo’s eyes widened. Blood flicked over the snow in bright splotches. Lanying’s screams became shriller. Soldiers gasped, but none of them drew closer.

She scrambled onto her knees, rushing over to the both of them. Zhi Ruo reached forward and grabbed the child around the chest, yanking him off Lanying. The dragon child was surprisingly light. He hissed and snarled, claws flailing as Zhi Ruo dragged him away. One of the soldiers took that opportunity to yank Lanying’s foot and drag her away from the dragon-child. Zhi Ruo held onto him tightly, even as his nails grazed her.

“Stop it! Stop!” she shouted into his ear.

His claws outstretched toward Lanying. He continued roaring.

“ Stop !” Zhi Ruo fell backward, still holding the writhing child. He didn’t hurt her, he only struggled to get out of her grasp. His chains were cold and slick with Lanying’s blood, and his clothes were spotted with it too.

“ That’s enough !” a voice boomed and a crack of magic filled the air.

Zhi Ruo screamed as heat singed her arms and she recoiled from the dragon, rolling onto the icy ground. The smell of burning flesh pervaded the air and she gagged, her chest and arms sweltering. The dragon-child seized on the ground, his arms and limbs straightening as something seemed to paralyze him. A pained howl escaped from his mouth. The veins of his neck stood out as he trembled, stuck in an incapacitated, bent position. Hazy, smoke-like magic clung to his arms and legs, burning him.

Chanming shoved his way through the parting crowds. He took one look at Lanying, Zhi Ruo, and the dragon-child, his nostrils flaring as anger shifted over his expression. He snapped his fingers, and the dragon-child flailed on the ground, screaming more loudly, more gutturally.

“How dare you,” he seethed, face warping. “You know you’re not supposed to attack anyone!”

Zhi Ruo pushed herself onto her knees; her arms stung from the magicked attack, and she watched, helplessly, as Chanming continued snapping his fingers, magic thickening in the air around the boy. The dragon-child’s flesh turned red, the whites of his eyes bleeding.

“S-stop,” she whispered. She watched, in horror, as the boy curled into a ball, tears streaming down his face as he wailed. “Stop!”

Chanming didn’t seem to be listening. He continued sending wave after wave of torturous magic at the boy. The air grew dense with it. “You stupid, insolent dog ,” he hissed, hurling more insults. “How long must I torment you for you to behave ? How long must it take for you to learn ?”

“Stop! You’re being too cruel!”

He turned his attention to her momentarily. “He disobeyed.”

He looked so much like Father that she wanted to vomit right then and there. Her muscles froze, and she resisted the urge to bow down to him, to curl her body inward like the dragon-child’s and beg for forgiveness.

But the dragon’s cries broke something within her.

“Stop!” Zhi Ruo ran to the dragon-child, whipping her hand over the dense magic. All at once, her own magic flared, shadows whipping from her hand and distorting over Chanming’s. She coiled her body protectively over the child, turning to glare at Chanming. “What are you doing? He’s a child!”

The dragon-child whimpered in her arms.

Chanming’s eyes widened, then his eyebrows pulled together in puzzlement. “Did you just …”

“He is a child !” she shouted again, holding him tighter. Her magic streamed to the ground, swirling in thin wisps around them, creating a circular barrier. “He doesn’t know any better!”

Chanming scowled, hands curling and gaze flicking over to his men. The soldiers began whispering amongst each other, and she realized she had made a mistake. It was never a good thing to question the authority of the leader in the area, and right now, Chanming was in charge.