Page 42 of Dynasty of the Wicked

Her whole world became swamped in darkness. She thrashed against it, letting more shadows bleed into the snowy white environment. Letting her magic corrupt and destroy everything in her path. She didn’t care anymore about anything. She was vengeance itself— powerful, fatal, and unforgiving.

She wanted the world to burn and bleed the same way she had her whole life. She wanted to relish this feeling—the rawpower that leaked from her, the strength to destroy that ran through her veins. It was exhilarating, tantalizing, intoxicating.

“Princess!Princess!”

Zhi Ruo raised her hand, sending wave after wave of dark magic to consume everything around her.

“Princess!”

Another blast of magic to her left, then her right. She could hear the screams of the soldiers. The devouring of flesh as she corrupted them with her magic. She savored it, knowing that she was causing them so much pain.Especiallyafter the weeks of agony she had endured by their hands.

“Zhi Ruo!” Feng Mian was suddenly in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. He shook her gently. He was saying something, his pretty mouth parting, but the words didn’t reach her. He looked … terrified, but she wasn’t sure why.

She reached forward and touched his cheek. Shadows welled over her flesh, flicking out in every direction; they warped around Feng Mian, seeming to understand that he wasn’t her target. Blood and purple bruises littered his beautiful face.

Zhi Ruo took his face in her hands. “I love you,” she murmured, her magic continuing to run amok behind her, beside her, and everywhere else. It didn’t matter anymore, she decided.

His eyes widened, the silver appearing all the more vivid against the backsplash of black and purple shadows.

“Snap out of it!” he shouted, shaking her. “You’ll kill yourself like this!”

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t sure if she told him that or not, but she released him. Her life truly didn’t matter; it was better this way, for her to take this entire camp down with her. If she would die anyway, she’d rather take all her enemies with her.

She pulled away from him, walking in the sea of black, her gaze skating over everything to seek Wyer, but she couldn’t find him.

Feng Mian grabbed her hand. “Stop!Zhi Ruo!”

He continued to shout at her, screaming something, but his words didn’t reach her. She couldn’t understand why he appeared so panicked. Wasn’t this good? Wasn’t this what he wanted? For her to unleash her magic and free them?

Oh, his bindings.

Zhi Ruo grabbed the cuffs on his wrists and all at once, her shadows wrapped around them, cracking the metal with a giant burst.There, she thought, letting go of his hands. Now he was free.

But he continued to yell at her, even as his own magic pulsed in his flesh, even as the veins in his hands darkened with black. Finally, he took her face in his hands, and her flesh burned where he touched. She struggled against him, confused. Why was he hurting her? Didn’t he want this?

He pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed the top of her head gently—so ever gently, such a contrast to the chaos around them. For a moment, in the quiet, it was a glorious feeling—the feeling of his protective grip, the magic within her racing at the rhythm of his heart, seeming to recognize him, seeming to sing for him—and then she felt it. All of her magic began draining. The great power she had amassed was quickly dying off—going tohim.

She tried pulling away, but he held her tight. Then, her body started convulsing. She threw her head back, mouth open to scream, but nothing came out.

More darkness ebbed in the corner of her vision, but whether it was her magic, his magic, or her consciousness fading, she didn’t know.

Right when she thought she would burst into shadows herself, Feng Mian brushed another kiss on her head. “You are the light of my dark, dark world. There’s no need for you to succumb to my curse.”

13

Ying Yue was laughingat her again. Zhi Ruo wasn’t sure what it was about this time, but she was sure she had done something wrong. Maybe said something weird, or made a strange gesture that was rude. She could feel eyes turning toward her, and her clumsy, clammy fingers wove together onto her lap. She was only thirteen, and her only companion as of late was Liena, her maid. This was her first time at an outing with girls her age; she had been grateful when Ying Yue had invited her, but now she wasn’t so sure. Was she simply invited so she could be their entertainment? The laughing stock?

She shoved those ideas aside; how ridiculous. Ying Yue was her sister. Of course she had good intentions when it came to her.

Ying Yue grinned sharply, her innocent doe-like eyes appearing like two half-crescent moons. “Zhi Ruo, you look … beautiful in such a dress,” she giggled, and the other girls around them did the same, staring at her bright green dress. It was a dress that Ying Yue’s mother had chosen for her.

Zhi Ruo fidgeted in her seat. She was in the gardens, drinking tea with other noble ladies. She was supposed to behappy, she reminded herself. She was supposed to make friends here.

“Thank you.” She forced a smile and sipped her bitter tea.

“What is His Majesty planning for your birthday this year, Princess Ying Yue?” one of the girls asked, inching closer to her and smiling at her excitedly. Every year, an extravagant celebration was thrown to commemorate the birth of the emperor’s favored daughter. Even though Zhi Ruo was only a few weeks younger than Ying Yue, Father never threw a celebration for her. He never even invited her for dinner, either.

Ying Yue lifted her shoulder. “I asked him if we can have a giant party. Similar to a festival. Would you all like to come?”

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