Page 3 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“Do you have any idea who it will be?”

“No one important,” she murmured.

Her only hope was that she married someone who would give her some freedom from this cursed place. She didn’t care for titles and such, even though everyone else in the palace seemed to think she was a power-hungry, wicked girl. All she had ever wanted was love and for someone to take her far away from thisvicious court. If it wasn’t for Liena … she would never want to be here.

“I hope whoever he is, he’ll let me take you with me.” She gave Liena a tightlipped smile. It was meant to be a lighthearted, hope-filled comment, but it only made the back of her eyes burn more. She sounded miserable to even her own ears.

“Oh, Princess.” Liena’s own eyes filled with tears and she pulled Zhi Ruo into a quick embrace.

Don’t cry.

Zhi Ruo smiled when they pulled away from each other, even as her heart felt like it was being torn apart. She hated crying in front of anyone, even Liena. She hated the idea of being vulnerable to anyone; it was a habit formed from years of being in Father’s cutthroat court, where anyone would hook onto her insecurities, doubts, and weaknesses, and exploit them.

“Well, you should get some rest,” Liena finally said once she had polished all of the jewelry, organized it, and placed it back on her vanity. She led Zhi Ruo back to her bed and helped her under the covers. “Sleep well, Princess.”

“You too.”

It was only when she was completely alone, Liena having retired for the night, that Zhi Ruo finally allowed herself to cry against her pillowcase. One day, she prayed, she would never have to feel this way. Useless, abandoned, and forgotten.

2

Zhi Ruo hatedfeeling so small in a room filled with Father’s nobles. Everyone mingled within their small groups and conversed with one another. They ate at the tables clustered around the grand hall, their hands sticky with honeyed rice-cakes and powdery cookies. At the center of the hall, dozens of dancers dressed in red robes moved in unison, their bodies undulating to the sound of the music. They wove a tale together with their movements. Zhi Ruo hung to the back, alone and watching with barely concealed sorrow. She wanted to join the groups of people, wanted to talk to the giggling girls around her age who batted their lashes at the young nobles. But she could only glue herself to the wall, hoping nobody noticed her.

Up on the gold-plated dais, Father sat on a throne of emerald-green and silver silks—the colors of the MuRong dynasty. He wore bright royal purple robes with silver accents, his hair-crown glinting with gold and his lined, handsome face carved severely with his usual upturned scowl. He always appeared like that, like nothing could ever satisfy him.

Lady Ning, Ying Yue’s mother, and two of Father’s youngest and newest concubines, whose names Zhi Ruo couldn’t remember, sat on a velvet couch beside his throne. Lady Ningfanned herself with a bejeweled silk fan as she peered down at everyone with narrowed eyes. A pink tinge covered her cheeks, showing through her powdery white makeup.

When her eyes met Zhi Ruo’s through the crowd, her red-painted lips curled into a vicious sneer. Zhi Ruo quickly averted her gaze, her heart racing unexpectedly. She didn’t want to be a target today.

She slipped through the crowds of people, hoping to disappear within the numbers, and headed toward the balcony doors, but even as she drew close to it, she couldn’t shake Lady Ning’s pointed glare. She had just touched the dragon-shaped handle of the balcony doors when her brother’s harsh and cutting voice called for her.

“Zhi Ruo.”

Her spine stiffened and she could feel the crisscross scars on her back prickle. Slowly, she turned to him in rigid, jerky movements. Crown Prince Wanqing walked toward her, the crowds of people clearing a path for him. His long scarlet robes fluttered behind him with every forceful step. Ying Yue clung to his arm, her ever-present grin spread over her blush-rouged lips. A tiny blood-red lotus was drawn between her brows.

“I heard you cut the hand off of a noble yesterday,” Wanqing said, stopping a foot away from her. His dark gaze flicked to her hand, and then to the glass balcony doors, his eyes narrowing. “Trying to escape?”

“Of course not.” Zhi Ruo dropped her grip from the door handle and lowered herself to a bow. “Good evening, brother.”

Her legs trembled as she remained bowed down. Did he realize she had stolen his dagger? Her heart raced even faster. She didn’t want to imagine what he would do—what kind of rage he would fly into—if he realized she had taken something that belonged to him. She was grateful she had decided not to bringit with her tonight; the last thing she needed was for him to have proof of her crime.

But Wanqing only looked down at her in disgust. Not in rage. Just … revulsion.

That was good—he didn’t know, then.

“How much longer will you tarnish our royal name with your wicked acts of insolence?” His tone grew harsher with each syllable. “Have we not told you several times already that you mustbehave?”

Ying Yue’s grin sharpened. She seemed to enjoy seeing Zhi Ruo bowed low in front of her, though it wasn’t for Ying Yue she was forced to lower herself, but for their brother.

“Rise,” Wanqing snapped, seeming to grow tired of her silence. “And explain yourself.”

Zhi Ruo straightened and placed her suddenly clammy hands on her thighs to keep them from trembling. She could see people in her peripheral vision watching and chuckling to themselves, no doubt entertained.

“I didn’t cut off his hand,” she said, finding her voice. Her words were nearly drowned by the loud music and the chatter of everyone deeper in the room. She shifted on her feet as Wanqing tilted his head to the side, his silver hair-crown gleaming under the orangey torchlights. “I cut his finger?—”

Her brother laughed cruelly, his eyes darkening. “Ah, you didn’t cut his hand off, but hisfinger. Oh, how that makes the situation so much better,dearsister.” Sarcasm dripped from his words like venom. He stepped closer, and she shrank back. “Should I remind you of your place? How dare you lift your hand against a noble. Have you learned nothing from the past? I explicitly told you, yesterday, that you are tobehave.”

Zhi Ruo stared down at her feet, her cheeks blooming with heat as more people were drawn to this humiliating display.

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