Page 5 of Dynasty of the Wicked (The Wicked Princess #1)

5

Minutes later, two Kadians entered the hallway of their dungeon space and Zhi Ruo braced herself into the corner of the wall to make herself seem even smaller. The two soldiers shouted something when they found the corpse. One of the soldiers was short and stout with a doughy, young face, while the other was lanky and tall, though not as impressive and foreboding as Feng Mian, who sat on the floor of the cell unperturbed, even as the Kadians hurled insults at him.

“Shit!” The shorter of the two drew his sword and pointed it at their cell, his eyes narrowing to slits. “I don’t know why we keep this bastard alive if all he does is keep causing trouble,” he sneered to his partner in their tongue, before barking at Feng Mian, “ Hey! Get up! ”

“Do you understand them?” Feng Mian asked her quietly.

“Get up!”

The other soldier dragged the corpse by the ankle, and a stream of semi-thickened blood followed in its wake. Zhi Ruo’s stomach turned and she hugged herself deeper against the wall.

“Princess, I’m talking to you.” Feng Mian was glancing in her direction, though his unfocused gaze didn’t fall on her completely.

Zhi Ruo blinked back, her eyebrows pulling together as the two soldiers shouted something—the taller one complained about the heavy body, while the stout one cursed and didn’t seem to know what to do. What had Feng Mian asked of her?

“Do you know their language?” he asked again.

“Wha—” She could see the shorter soldier yanking out a ring of keys from his waist. “Y-yes. Do you?”

“I do.”

“So you should understand that they’re furious,” she said slowly, watching from the corner of her eye as the soldier jammed a key into the padlock, cursed again, and tried for another. Her heart picked up in pace. “Do you think you can overpower them and kill them too?”

“It’s worth a try.” The corner of his mouth rose, and then twitched into a frown. “But use this opportunity to escape, if you can.”

She ground her teeth together to keep from scowling at him; as if he truly cared about her. She couldn’t be fooled by his occasional kindness—it was only meant to further his own freedom.

Feng Mian jumped up to his feet, his hands clenched together tightly. Apprehension swirled in the pit of her belly and she continued to hug the wall. If the soldiers both jammed themselves inside here, she wouldn’t have much space to escape without them noticing. But since both of them had their swords on them … she feared she would get caught in the crossfire.

But Feng Mian had a blade on him, she reminded herself.

Even now, she could see him angling his foot where he had slipped the knife in away from their line of sight. Surely, he could snatch it and slit their throat. They wouldn’t expect him to?—

“Hey!” The old prisoner grasped the bars of the cell and pointed at Feng Mian. “This one’s got a knife on him!” he shouted in their tongue. “He’ll cut you!”

The soldier messing with the padlock froze, lifted his gaze to Feng Mian, and then the corner of his mouth curled into a snarl. “You bastard .”

The second soldier cursed and dropped the body he had been trying to haul down the hallway. With one fluid swoop, he drew his own sword, stepped over the corpse, and came to stand beside his companion. Both sent apprehensive glares at her cellmate.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Feng Mian muttered under his breath.

“Don’t do anything careless,” the shorter of the two snapped, aiming his sword through the slats. “I’ll skewer you like a pig.” Another string of curses followed, half of which Zhi Ruo didn’t completely understand.

The soldier twisted the key with one hand while keeping an eye on Feng Mian, and the padlock clicked open.

Zhi Ruo’s heart thudded loudly. Sweat beaded down her breasts and soaked through her armpits. She glanced between Feng Mian, whose body was tense like a spring, and the two scowling soldiers.

The two soldiers exchanged quick glances and the shorter one kicked the door open and leaped inside, his sword pointed at Feng Mian. The second soldier barreled in after him. They instantly crowded the cramped cell.

“Give the weapon here, blind bastard.” The soldier twisted the sword in his hand, his stance tensing when Feng Mian didn’t move. “I know you can understand me.”

The taller of the two licked his lips, glancing back at the darkening hallway. Zhi Ruo could sense his nervousness by the tightness of his shoulders, the way he stayed further back than his partner, as if he could run away if it came down to it. But Feng Mian was blind, could he read the man as easily as she could?

“Feng—” she started, but the tall one snapped his attention to her and aimed his sword at her.

“Stay put,” he snapped, Adam’s apple bobbing. He seemed to have no trouble corralling her in place. “Hey, what if she has a weapon too?”

The dough-faced soldier glanced at her sidelong, the corner of his mouth lifting into a snicker. “Strip her down. Might as well enjoy the view.”

All the color drained from her face. Her hands flew to her chest, eyes widening at the cruel grin glinting off their faces. The old prisoner in the next cell hooted and cackled.

A muscle on Feng Mian’s jaw twitched. “You wouldn’t dare ,” he growled in their language. “Touch her and I’ll fucking kill you.”

The stout soldier’s brows came together in confusion—either at the threat, or that Feng Mian knew his language.

It was all the distraction Feng Mian needed to lunge forward with a snarl. The soldier cursed and slashed his head, but Feng Mian was too fast and ducked before the blade could even reach him. The sword smacked into the wall and rang loudly. He twisted around, swinging his weapon with him as he went. The sword sliced Feng Mian’s bicep and a rush of blood bloomed over his dark clothes, splattering the floor as he rolled away from another slash.

Zhi Ruo didn’t have time to watch the fight because the other soldier stalked toward her, his sword angled toward her throat.

“Get undressed.” He shot a worried glance in Feng Mian’s direction. They didn’t have much room. One wrong move and anyone could get cut.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins. “ No .”

“What?” Clearly not expecting that answer, he lowered his sword.

Just then, the shorter soldier knocked into the other one. The tall one’s sword struck the space above her head and she just barely bobbed down as the sword dragged over the wall as he tumbled forward.

“Focus on this fucker!” the stouter one shouted, elbowing his companion as they righted themselves. They kept their swords drawn toward Feng Mian.

Feng Mian breathed out heavily, a gash on his shoulder. He held the small knife he had nabbed from the corpse in front of himself defensively.

“Forget the girl,” the man continued. “Wait until— damn it !”

Feng Mian shot forward, quick and lithe, and struck the man’s face. The soldier barely jerked away, forcing down his sword toward the blind man.

Zhi Ruo dropped down to her knees with a yelp as another wayward sword was flung in her direction. The two soldiers circled Feng Mian and attacked him with all their might. They should have won immediately. The odds were stacked in their favor, but Feng Mian was faster, stronger, and somehow more terrifying than the two swordsmen.

Hugging the wall, she crept closer to the exit. The clang of steel biting steel, swords ricocheting off the bars and walls, and heavy breathing filled the tight space. Blood streamed down in thick splatters from all three of them.

She grasped the swinging door just as the old prisoner shouted, “She’s trying to escape! She’s trying to escape!”

The tall soldier cursed something, but Zhi Ruo didn’t hear it. She shoved the door open with her shoulder and lurched to her full height in the same second. She ran two steps, her eyes adjusting to the short dark hallway, lit by only a single sconce. The was a staircase at the end of the corridor and she could see a crack of light at the door at the top. It warped and shifted in the damp, cavern-like hall.

Freedom was so close. Just two dozen feet away.

She took another step forward, her gaze locked on the stairwell, when her head jerked back violently and her world spun. Pain clawed at her scalp and she tried grasping the fingers that were lodged deep into her tangled hair. The man yanked her back, her body slamming into his.

“You bitch ,” he snarled, breathing heavily into her neck. He tightened his grip while she flailed.

She was so close .

“Let me go!” She elbowed him as hard as she could. He cursed loudly, angrier than before, as he reined her back by the hair and tossed her against the wall like a ragdoll. Her back smashed into the hard surface and she crumpled onto the floor. Stars danced in her waning vision as the man stooped down in front of her. He grasped another handful of her hair and pulled her head back so she was staring up at him.

“Let’s see what you’re hiding under these rags,” he growled. His dark brown eyes were lit with animosity and battle fervor. He was too much of a coward to face Feng Mian alone, but he had no qualms pushing Zhi Ruo around when she was half his size.

“Let me go!” she snapped, digging her fingernails across his face with a swipe.

He shouted and released her, grabbing his face. She scrambled up on her knees to launch herself back in the hallway, but he slapped her, hard. Her face whipped to the side and crashed into the wall. Pain erupted on her cheek and the back of her head. The iron tang of blood filled her mouth and she blinked back tears of pain. The man was shouting something at her, but she couldn’t focus. All she could do was swing her arms and fists and legs.

The man punched her again and again, and this time, the fight left her limbs and her body slumped to the floor. Her face throbbed and she could taste the blood streaming down her mouth. Her eye had swollen shut immediately. A soft groan escaped her lips.

Everything hurt.

She had never been brutally attacked like this. Even back in the royal palace when that noble had groped her, she hadn’t felt this weak, this powerless .

The soldier straddled her and grasped the front of her dress and ripped it. The sound resonated in the tight space loudly, almost crashing over the clang of steel. The rush of cold seeped over her exposed breasts, goosebumps running over her flesh like wildfire.

The tension in the room immediately thickened. Zhi Ruo protested weakly, but she could barely move her hands. Her mouth was so full of blood she was practically choking on it.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to be here right now. She wanted to disappear into the floors. Into the wind itself. Somewhere far away from this place that smelled like rot, death, and despair.

“Don’t—” Feng Mian snarled. His voice grew louder, overpowering everything. “ Don’t. You. Fucking. Touch. Her .”

His roar seemed to awaken something within her. She snapped her eyes open just in time to see the soldier turn his head to look at Feng Mian.

Everything happened so fast. Feng Mian flung something at them; it whizzed through the bars and lodged straight into the man’s eye. The man jerked back, gasping loudly. Blood gushed over Zhi Ruo’s face, and she stared in horror at the knife sticking out of the man’s eye socket. He touched his face with trembling hands, the pain seeming to register on his face a second too late.

A scream ripped from his throat. He bucked back, pale hands smearing the blood over his face. “M-my eye! My eye!” he screamed.

Zhi Ruo didn’t know what overcame her. Adrenaline rushed through her veins. Her body trembled with it, a high settling over her bones and flesh. Rage built in the back of her throat.

She didn’t want to be powerless.

Her hand curled around the hilt of the blade sticking out of his eye and she yanked it out. Blood rushed over the pulpy wound, and his shrieks intensified. He tried rising off her, but she drove the knife straight into his neck before he could. It jammed in through tendons and bones and flesh. Blood slipped down her fingers and she grunted, shoving her weight into the thrust as he toppled against the wall beside them. She squirmed out from under him, watching as he clutched his bloodied throat. Red, sticky, hot blood bathed her dress and spread over the floor like a sick painting.

She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving up and down, her hands trembling with panic, rage, and adrenaline.

She watched as he died, his hands closing over his throat to try to stop the bleeding. The life slowly seeped out from his eyes.

“Princess!” Feng Mian tackled the remaining soldier. “Run away!”

They both were covered in blood, their bodies bruised and battered and cut. They rolled on the floor, punching, kicking and grunting.

Zhi Ruo turned to the end of the hall, where the doorway was. But she couldn’t rush down there. Not after everything that had transpired.

She didn’t think twice. She scrambled over the floor by the dead soldier, her eyes straining in the dark to see where he had dropped his sword. In his haste to capture her and violate her, he had released it. Finally, she found it on the floor outside the entrance of their cell. Her heart panged. Feng Mian wouldn’t have been able to see it here, so close to his grasp.

Scooping up the heavy blade, she rushed back inside the cell. The short soldier was atop Feng Mian, straddling him like the other soldier had done to her. He threw his whole weight behind his sword as he pressed it against Feng Mian’s throat. The sharp edge of the weapon bit into her cellmate’s hands. The weapon drew closer to his throat. Soon, his hands wouldn’t be able to take it, and his throat would be slit.

Zhi Ruo raised the sword in her hand and released a guttural scream as she slammed it into the man’s back. It slashed over his back, but not deep enough. The man shouted, the shock and pain making him weaken his hold on his own sword. Feng Mian shoved the man off him and the soldier staggered onto his knees, his sword dragging across the floor. Zhi Ruo aimed the tip of the sword at his stomach.

She slammed into his thick body. The impact rattled up to her elbows and she watched as the soldier’s eyes widened.

Slowly, she sank to the floor with him, not releasing her hold on the handle.

“Die,” she seethed, twisting the blade.

Blood gurgled from his mouth. She released her death-like grip from the sword and stumbled away, her back smacking against Feng Mian. He grasped her shoulder, steadying her.

“Are you … okay?” he breathed out, sweat beading over his face and body. She could feel his blood seeping into her shoulders.

The adrenaline began fading, but she continued to quiver. A torrent of confusing emotions rushed over her—panic, fear, horror, power—but she didn’t have time to tarry in her thoughts.

“We have to escape,” she found herself saying. The two men were dead. Their glassy eyes stared straight at her. Her stomach clenched. “We have to?—”

Feng Mian clamped his wounded hands on her shoulder and turned her around so she was facing him. His blind gaze focused on nothing in particular, but she could see the concern shining in them. His eyebrows pulled together.

“Calm yourself. You just killed two people.”

“I-I know, but we have to?—”

“Give yourself a second to breathe .”

She didn’t even realize she was inhaling sharply, her breaths barely filling her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the tattered parts of her dress over her bare breasts. There was so much blood everywhere. She could smell it in the air, thick and perfused. It stained her hands, her body, the floor. Everything her eye could see was tainted with it.

“I …” She really didn’t have time for this. “I can panic some other time—” The words rushed out of her rapidly, like she needed to flush them out and move on. “Look, we don’t have much time?—”

“We will escape, both you and I, Princess. I need you to be calm for what happens next. When we leave here, it’s only going to be harder out there.” He touched her chin with a gentle hand and raised her head. He gestured in the general direction of the corpses. “You did what you had to. These men deserved it.”

“I—” She didn’t even know what to say. Her attention kept straying to the dead bodies.

“I should have protected you.” He breathed out shakily and she realized that it was probably taking everything in him to keep standing. There were gashes on his thighs—the material of his pants darkened with blood—and he was paler than before. “You shouldn’t have their putrid, low-borne blood tainting your hands. Forgive me, I should have killed them.”

Her throat closed up, a lightheaded feeling budding over her. “Feng Mian?—”

She didn’t know this man, but she somehow felt closer to him than before. They had fought together in a life and death situation; she was sure that counted for something.

Feng Mian touched the drying blood on her face, the bruises that littered her cheeks, her swollen eye, her split lip. A shadow darkened over his features. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it shut.

Zhi Ruo grasped his hand in hers lightly. “We must hurry. I am well now, thank you.”

Nodding, they both headed toward the corridor. Feng Mian paused to wrench the sword out of one of the bodies while Zhi Ruo wrangled the knife out of the other man’s neck. She tried not to stare too long at his mangled throat, his wounded eye, or the glassy one.

The old prisoner rattled his bars, wide eyes latched onto them. “Release me too! Please!”

“Fuck off,” Feng Mian sneered, stepping over one of the corpses.

Anger surged through Zhi Ruo, but she chose to ignore the old man. Let him rot in his cell, she decided, hurrying down the hallway. She climbed up the steps two at a time, her heart stuck in her throat.

Feng Mian touched the doorknob and froze. “Wait?—”

“What?”

“There are people outside.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can sense people and—well, it doesn’t matter.” He waved his calloused, bloodied hand and jerked his chin at the door. “There are … hundreds of people close by. I think we’re in the lower levels of a building.”

“What now?” Zhi Ruo shifted on her feet and the floorboards of the stairs creaked and groaned, the wood moldering and dipping in the center.

Feng Mian gritted his teeth together. “We sure as hell can’t stay here and rot in this place.”

She tightened her hold on the knife. They didn’t stand much of a chance against hundreds of soldiers. And the more she looked at Feng Mian, the more injuries she noticed—his hands were cut badly, he was holding his sword loosely, likely due to the injuries, and he wasn’t putting weight on one of his legs. Not to mention he was covered in blood. How long could he even last in battle? Despite that, she still said, “You try to fight anyone who draws near. I’ll look for a horse and we can try to run as far as possible. I’m smaller, so they might not notice me slipping by.”

“You want me to be flashy and distract them?”

“Exactly.”

He released a shaking breath, strengthened his hold on his sword and then slowly pushed the door open. He motioned for her toward the thin crack of the opened door, and she almost forgot, once again, that he was blind. She would have to be his eyes.

Zhi Ruo was suddenly all too aware that Feng Mian was close to her, his breath fanning over her bare neck, his broad chest inches away from her back. His warmth radiated against her, warming her down to her toes. It was completely inappropriate for her to be thinking these things, especially considering the timing.

She squinted in the bright light that filled the room. It was a small two-windowed house of sorts. There was a hearth on one side, a table with platters of breads and hard yellow blocks on the other, and two windows overlooking a snowy background. An older soldier with shocking gold and gray-streaked hair sat next to the fire on a single, wooden chair, his head tucked against his chest as he snoozed loudly.

“There’s one soldier,” she murmured, shooting a furtive glance at Feng Mian. He was too close. Blood splatters dotted his chin and neck, and she wasn’t sure if it was his blood or the others’. The scent of sweat, and iron, and something deep and earthy and musky filled her nostrils. Heat crept up her face at his closeness. She needed to focus, she told herself, staring intently at the sleeping Kadian. How could she be distracted by Feng Mian when her life was literally on the line?

Feng Mian splayed his hand on the center of the door and slowly eased it open, being careful not to make a sound. Despite his efforts, the door screeched open. Both of them tensed, but the soldier’s snores remained consistent and he didn’t move. Carefully, Feng Mian swept into the room and Zhi Ruo trailed behind him. She could hear the old man in the dungeon howling something, so she turned around and softly shut the door. A loud, wet, thud made her whirl around.

The soldier’s head rolled a few feet away from her. She gasped sharply, one hand flying to her mouth and the other holding up the knife as if that could do anything. Feng Mian lifted an eyebrow at her. The soldier’s body remained slumped on the chair, except now there was a flood of blood drenching his entire uniform.

It was ghastly. Even in death, the man appeared asleep.

She scrunched her nose at the strong smell of blood. “You didn’t have to …”

“Kill him?” Feng Mian swung his sword and a spatter of red painted the wall immediately. “He’s the enemy. Never forget that.”

“But …” She opened her mouth to say more—that he hadn’t been doing anything to warrant his death—but it sounded ridiculous even in her mind. She was imprisoned by the Kadians. They were her enemies, after all. She instead nodded, then whispered, “Never mind. You’re right.”

Feng Mian hesitated a moment longer, before motioning to one of the walls. “Which way is the door? Or … is there even a door?”

“There are two windows and a door.” She crouched down, careful not to get more blood on the tattered, blood-stiffened hem of her dress. It sounded silly—she was already soaked in blood, so it shouldn’t have mattered.

She inched closer to one of the windows. Feng Mian followed behind her, keeping low to the floor, his sword balanced just an inch from the sticky floorboards.

Zhi Ruo poked her head up to stare out of the snow-crusted window and almost immediately dropped down to the floor. Her heart pounded loudly, the color draining from her face. Like Feng Mian had said, hundreds of Kadian soldiers surrounded the place. Beige tents were erected all around, with Kadians circling fires, sitting on makeshift seats, moving material from one location to the next, sharpening their swords, and tending to horses. They were in the middle of a military camp.