Page 30 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“You could become very powerful.”

9

Direct sunlight slippedthrough the tears in the cloth tent, casting strips of blinding white along the prison cage Zhi Ruo sat in. She hugged her knees to her chest. Feng Mian remained asleep on a pile of hay; in the light, she could make out the fading purple and yellow bruises on his skin. The old man was curled into a ball in the other corner of the cage, as far away from them as possible.

Zhi Ruo hugged her knees to her chest and stared at Feng Mian’s sleeping face. He was beautiful, and something in her heart squeezed tightly the more she stared. She wasmarriedto him, but she didn’t feel like a wife, or a partner, or anything, really, because they weren’t truly married. Not in the sense that they’d had a wedding, or a feast, or hundreds of guests to congratulate them. It was all a ruse.

Coupled with the fact that she had no idea when Wyer would whisk her out of this tent, force her to marry him, and then do whatever he pleased with her … she couldn’t sleep. So many people wanted to use her, even Feng Mian, to some extent.

Feng Mian had married her so she could use his magic to free them both.

Wyer wanted to marry her so he could have a legitimate claim to her father’s lands.

Father wanted to marry her off to Lord Chen to strengthen his ties to the Chen family.

She was nothing more than a pawn for men.

At least she had chosen to marry Feng Mian, she reasoned, tracing circles into the dirt and flurries of snow that had travelled to the bottom of the cage. At least he was … kind to her. At least they had some sort of connection, even if it was based on their united goal to free themselves. But after they were free, would he feel the same? Would he cast her aside like everyone else in her life? Would she be forced to marry Lord Chen when all of this was over?

Her mind was a raveled mess. Fear. Panic. Nausea. She hated everything. She hated her fate. She hated the Kadians, this war, everyone who had helped to make her life hell.

Tucking her chin against her knees, she tried to calm the apprehension building in the pit of her stomach.

“The false emperor will kill you all.”

She lifted her gaze to the old man in the corner of the cage. He was similarly curled into a ball, his beady black eyes latched onto her. His mangled ear was bandaged up, the bindings oozing with blood and yellow discharge.

“Excuse me?” she said. “Who?”

He glared at her. “The false emperor. Therealemperor.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He will find the dragon’s power and take over this empire for good.” The old man rocked forward and back; his cracked lips tightly pursed together until they were white. “He deserves the throne more than your cursed father does. Hewillrise to power.”

She stared at him a moment longer, uneasiness stirring in her chest. “Are you referring to Li Chanming?” she asked slowly.

Li Chanming was a traitor to the empire, a lord of some lands near the border who claimed to have a legitimate right to her father’s throne. Father had planned to kill the man, but then this war with Kadios had erupted and their forces were spread thin, and Father had reckoned it would be better to have the man killed by the Kadians instead, because as much as he abhorred the young lord, at least he fought the Kadians away from his lands. Eventually, he would be killed off, since he was in the thick of battle against the enemy kingdom.

The thought of him, the false emperor, as some called him, made her queasy all over again. “Do you work under Li Chanming?”

“I did.” The old man continued rocking. “But then these bastards caught me trying to flee. We were in battle and we … it doesn’t matter. He will rise to power.”

“He will die by the Kadians,” Zhi Ruo said slowly. “If it wasn’t for the war, he would have had his head cut off a long time ago, ever since he started spouting that he was the true heir to the throne. If he and his armies happen to survive the Kadian war, my father will apprehend him and have him killed either way. The man has a death sentence.”

“Your father can try all he wants, but no one can defeat a dragon.”

Dragons were powerful, mythical creatures that rarely meddled in human affairs. She doubted Li Chanming had a dragon on his side; they were arrogant, solitary beasts that would rather burn villages for fun rather than have anything to do with humans.

The old man began murmuring strange things to himself, about dragons and battle and how he had no choice but to run. Zhi Ruo inched closer to Feng Mian, unsure of what the prisoner would do to her without Feng Mian’s protection. Shecouldfight him, she reasoned. He was just a single old man, after all.

Minutes passed, before Feng Mian began to stir and rub the side of his face. His unseeing silver eyes fluttered open and he stretched his long legs. In the lighting, his snow-like hair appeared enchanting, like the moon itself had blessed him.

He sat upright stiffly. “Someone’s coming.”

Suddenly, the flap of the tent ripped open and three men entered with chains in their hands. Zhi Ruo stiffened, her heart picking up in pace as they approached their cage. One of the men held a key, and the other two touched the hilts of their swords as they scowled at Feng Mian.

“Come on, time for some entertainment,” the one with the key sneered, jamming it into the padlock. “And don’t you dare try to run or attack us, blind bastard. We’ll sever your fingers if you try.”

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