Page 46 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“No.” She slipped her hand in his and he hauled her up to her feet. Her knees were wet, her torn skirts flimsy against the winter chill. The material had thinned even more during her captivity; more sections of it frayed and useless.

“We will have to—” He whipped his head in one direction. “Down?—”

An arrow whizzed past them both, thwacking straight into a partially frozen tree beside them. Feng Mian muttered a curse and shoved them both to the ground; an outbreak of arrows followed in its wake. Feng Mian waved his hand and the arrows stopped midair before spinning around and releasing back at whoever was attacking them.

Zhi Ruo scrambled in the snow, gaze skating to the darkness. A fire bobbed in the distance, and she could hear the steps of booted feet crunching over ice and dried branches

Feng Mian remained stiff beside her, his head canting slightly. “Fuck,” he snarled. “There’s ten of them.”

Time slowed. Feng Mian lurched to his feet just as the Kadian soldiers burst through the clearing, their swords drawn and a fire glowing in the hands of one. Zhi Ruo was slow to come to her feet. The first soldier ran toward them, but Feng Mian ducked beneath his sword and grabbed his face with one hand. Shadows writhed from him, spreading into the soldier and leaching his life away in the next second. Feng Mian hid beneath the now-dead soldier’s body, and shoved another arrow toward another enemy.

Zhi Ruo rose to her feet, sweat slicking her brows and body. She raised her hand, willing the shadows to work like they had previously, but nothing happened. Her mind blanked—how had she done it before? She couldn’t even remember.

“Zhi Ruo!” Feng Mian crashed into her, sending her hurtling to the ground. Another blaze of arrows followed, and Feng Mian hissed in pain. She didn’t have time to think, to do anything—he was already back on his feet, moving again, shadows ripping through his hands toward the men. An arrow lodged into his shoulder. Her eyes grew wide.

It was her fault.

She tried to move again, but her limbs felt heavy. She tried to get the magic to work in her hands again, but she couldn’t. She could barely feel the warmth of it on her fingertips.

Feng Mian fought the soldiers, his magic whipping around him like a whirlwind, trapping them and making them collapse on the snow. He swung his sword toward the men, cutting through limbs and hands with ease.

One of the soldiers approached her, his daggers drawn and his sharp, green eyes zeroed in on her. She struggled to her feet, flicking her hand in front of herself, willing the magic to come and consume him. Magic sputtered at her fingertips, falling like ash onto the snow.

“You are weak here,” he said, raising his sharp blades. “Come with me quietly, and you will not get hurt.”

She backed away; in the edges of her vision, Feng Mian was fighting four of them, the other five were twisted on the ground.

“Come now,Princess.” He raced toward her.

Zhi Ruo repressed the urge to scream and ducked as his dagger slashed the air above her head. He kneed her in the stomach and she keeled over, pain erupting in her belly. He grasped the back of her head and yanked her face up to him. His lips twisted into a sneer. “Come quietly, or?—”

“Never!” she screamed, her hands pressing on his chest. A burst of angry dark magic crashed through her fingers, hurtling the soldier back. He crashed into one of the trees with a sick crack, and fell forward in the snow. He didn’t move again and when she dragged herself to where he was and prodded him with her foot, she realized that his neck was bowed backward. She cringed, turning away.

Shadowy magic continued to drip from her hands, and she could barely catch her breath. It was like most of her energy had been leeched by that one attack. She steadied herself by grabbing a nearby tree, her gaze skating over to Feng Mian.

There were only two soldiers left. One of them was limping, his hand missing and half his face bathed in blood. The other fought Feng Mian with vigor, their swords clashing with one another in quick succession.

Zhi Ruo aimed her shadowy magic at the weaker soldier, but her magic dried up in that moment and along with it, her energy, disappearing altogether. She fell to her knees, her breaths coming in quick gasps. Darkness ebbed in the corners of her vision and she squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of nausea rolled over her.

No, she had to be useful. She couldn’t leave Feng Mian to fight alone.

She tried to send a sea of magic toward the fighting soldiers, tried to immerse them in dark magic, to suffocate them where they stood. But she was completely drained of magic.

She crawled over to the dead soldier and yanked his daggers out from his stiff fingers. She had just risen back to her feet, weapons in hand, when she realized that the fighting was over. Feng Mian stood alone in the clearing, his chest rising and falling, hands coated in blood and veined black with cursed magic. The Kadian corpses formed a giant, ominous circle around him.

“Princess?” He stepped forward, his injured shoulder slumping forward and his face wracking with pain. The arrow was still sticking out of him, though the shaft had broken in half at some point. “Are you injured?”

“No.” Tears filled her eyes and she staggered toward him. She stopped when she was a foot away, her hands shaking as she stared at the arrow wound and the blood darkening his clothes. His hands twitched, the curse spreading further down his fingers.

“You’re hurt,” she choked out, staring at the pulsing shadows beneath his flesh. The daggers slipped out of her hands and plunked into the soft, blood-stained snow. The wind howled, sending a wave of frozen flurries to pellet them both. “Feng Mian, the curse?—”

“It’s nothing.” He gathered her in his arms, breathing in her scent sharply. He could barely support his own weight, and she tried to hold her ground for him. He continued to breathe heavily, his arms quivering from fatigue; he smelled of blood, sweat, and battle. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep track of them all and then I didn’t know where you went. I was terrified I would accidentally?—”

Feng Mian didn’t speak for a moment, and she wondered whether he didn’t want to, or if the words wouldn’t comeout. She touched the back of his head gently, threading her fingers through the silken, moon-like strands. “That you would accidentally hurt me?”

“If I am unable to keep track of you, then … then I cannot tell the difference between you and—” He shuddered, and his breath pooled out of him like thick, white clouds. He gestured toward the corpses surrounding them, and another gust of wind carrying icy flakes blew against them. “I have hurt, and even killed, my comrades before. When I am overcome with bloodlust, it is difficult for me to differentiate between friend and foe. My power seeks to leech the life out of everything in its path. I truly become a monster.”

She shivered, the wintry chill penetrating through her thin clothes, even more so now that Feng Mian’s magic wasn’t keeping them warm anymore. But also because of his words, because if he became a destructive beast who couldn’t tell the difference between her and their enemies … then she would have to keep that in mind for next time.

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