Page 36 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“I understand you’re angry that … that the old man was killed by someone other than you, or that you were?—”

“You thinkthat’swhy I’m mad?”

She stilled, staring over at him with wide eyes.

A muscle on his jaw jumped. He opened his mouth to speak, clamped it shut, and then tried again, his rage barely suppressed. “I have always been a spectacle toeveryone. A failure and disappointment to my father. A jest for my sisters and a blind fool to my peers. They have all treated me like an exhibition, waiting for me to fail in front of their eyes. I never wantedyouto see that too. For my worth to be diminished into …that.”

“Feng Mian—” Her chest tightened at his painful words. She needed him to understand that she would never see him that way. That he wasn’t a spectacle to her. That he was much more than that.

“Don’t.” His lips curled back as he growled, “Don’t pity me. Not you.”

“I don’t pity you.” She lowered the cloth. “I would never pity you.”

She was silent as she cleaned his wound. She didn’t know what to say to make him feel better, so she remained silent. They weren’t close enough for her to know how he liked to be comforted.

“I’m sorry,” Zhi Ruo whispered once the wound was clean. She plopped the wet cloth beside her and reached for the needle.

“Sorry for what?” he breathed.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” She tightened her hold on the needle as she remembered him fighting those soldiers, how they had laughed at him and kicked him. How he had been severely outnumbered. How they had made a show out of him.

And she hated that he had gone through something similar when he was younger. It was true that nobody in Huo society would favor anyone who had a disability. She could imagine how they must have laughed at him.

Feng Mian pressed his lips together into a straight line and said nothing.

She tried slipping the coarse thread into the narrow opening of the needle, but her hands trembled and she had to stop several times to just breathe. She had never stitched someone’s flesh together, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to do it now either. She had learned some basic stitching as a child, but would she be able to pull the needle through his skin and muscle? The thought nauseated her.

Feng Mian suddenly reached out and grasped her hand.

Zhi Ruo lifted her head to find him staring in her direction. “I’ll get to it—” she started.

“Breathe. It’ll be okay.”

Zhi Ruo’s breath caught in her throat.

“It’s not that difficult. Just think of it like sewing a handkerchief.”

“I …” She nodded, but then remembered he couldn’t see that motion. “Yes.”

She crept even closer to him, toward his body warmth, and positioned herself beside his arm. She released a shuddered breath and placed the point of the needle against the gash, her fingers quivering.

“Can you talk to me?” Zhi Ruo asked, lowering the needle. “I just need something to distract myself. Like … how do you fight so well?”

“Hm? Practice.” He flexed his fingers while she placed the needle’s point against his arm. “I trained my ass off. That’s how. But that’s probably not what you’re asking.”

“No, I’m not.” She exhaled and poked the needle into his flesh. He stiffened at the contact. She wanted to ask him about his father, his siblings, and what he had gone through, but she knew he wouldn’t open up to her. She also didn’t want to tell him about her own traumas, about her own feelings of failure. It was better to distract him with other thoughts.

“I can feel things.” Feng Mian’s white lashes lowered to touch his cheeks. “I can tell that you’re in front of me. I can tell that there are three guards outside this tent. I can tell that five feet in that direction”—he pointed to his left with his uninjured arm— “is a man.”

Zhi Ruo pulled the needle out. One stitch down, many more to go. “So,” she murmured, gaze fixated on the blood seepingfrom the wound, “you use magic for that? To sense people, I mean.”

“Sort of. It’s hard to explain.” Feng Mian sighed and his warm breath tickled her face. “I was born blind, but for a long time I’ve been able to feel the things around me. I can feel the life energy of all living things. And when I spread my energy around me, I can get a read on my surroundings.”

Another stitch down. Her fingers stopped shaking. “Are there limitations?”

“Of course. For example, I might know that there’s a wall of some sort in front of me, but I have no idea if it’s sturdy or flimsy, or if there're weapons hooked to it or not. I might know that there’s a hill in front of me, but I don’t know if it’s a natural hill, a hill of corpses, or rocks. I can get an understanding of my surroundings, but not that well. I’m still blind, after all. But that’s where I use my other senses.”

Zhi Ruo was so focused on the next stitch so she didn’t notice Feng Mian lift his hand until he grazed her cheek with calloused fingers. She gasped, eyes flying to his face. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe as his finger trailed over to her ear, his touch feathery light and his expression … tender. Like he was exploring her slowly.

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