Page 5 of Dynasty of the Wicked

The smell of aromatic, garlicky food, burning incense, and woodsmoke pervaded the air. Her stomach grumbled and she breathed through her nose. She would have to ask Liena to send food to her room later tonight.

“Your Majesty, this is a wonderful display of—” one of the nobles rambled, bowing in front of her father once more.

Zhi Ruo tuned out the rest of his words and wished he would hurry up. Nobles always loved to flatter her father and it was actually expected of them to keep singing praises of him. All the false commendations and saccharine lies were thinly veiled behind hand rubbing, tight-lipped smiles, and crinkled, greedy eyes. She wondered, momentarily, if Father enjoyed the praise or he ever grew bored of it. Judging by his nonchalant expression, the stiffness of his face, and the perpetual sneer curling his lips, she assumed the latter.

She would never like to have people bowing down to her while speaking like that.

Finally, the two nobles lowered their heads again and shuffled out of the way. Zhi Ruo’s stomach twisted with apprehension like it always did whenever she was in her father’s presence and she stepped forward, nearly tripping on her skirt. She quickly dropped down to a bow, hoping nobody witnessed yet another embarrassing moment.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” Zhi Ruo said.

She could feel Father’s disinterested gaze linger on her for a moment, before shifting elsewhere. Bored, already.

Zhi Ruo tentatively raised her head, only to find Lady Ning fanning herself with her bejeweled fan and staring at her intently. The iridescent gems glowed in different shades of purple, orange, and yellow in the dim lighting.

“Zhi Ruo,” Lady Ning purred. “A pleasure and a surprise to see you here among all these festivities. A shame that you couldn’t behave for even one night. I heard, you know, what happened yesterday.” She clicked the fan shut and leaned forward, her bosom heaving in her skintight dress. The fabric fluttered down her legs in shades of silver and blue, like ripplingwater. “An awful shame for that poor, poor noble.” She clucked her tongue.

Lady Ning was Father’s favorite concubine and had been for the past twenty years. Zhi Ruo had heard rumors that Lady Ning was the one who had poisoned her mother when she was pregnant with her, and then again a decade later. She had succeeded the second time.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, dear?”

Zhi Ruo ducked her chin close to her chest and let the loose strands of hair fall over her face. Her hands grew sweaty and her legs numb in the uncomfortable crouching position. “No, Lady Ning,” she all but whispered.

“Hm?” Lady Ning leaned forward even more, a delightful craze in her doe-like brown eyes—a trait she shared with her daughter, Ying Yue.

“I have nothing to say, Lady Ning.”

“You never have anything interesting to say, do you?” Lady Ningtskedloudly and snapped her hand fan open again. She was beautiful, with hair as black as midnight, skin as clear and pale as snow, and eyes as light as honey—but it was shocking how her features twisted harshly whenever she targeted Zhi Ruo.

The two other concubines sitting beside her giggled as they peered down at her from their position so high up.

“A beautiful dress choice,” one of the concubines said with another giggle. “It suits you.”

“How gaudy,” the other whisper-shouted to the other, pretending to be demure about it. They both sniggered again.

Zhi Ruo’s cheeks bloomed with heat and she kept her head low. In truth, she hadn’t decided on her wardrobe; all of her dresses were picked by Lady Ning and Empress Fung. The two ladies despised each other, but they seemed to have the same taste when it concerned Zhi Ruo, because they only dressed her in overly garish dresses that were ridiculously ornamentaland had clashing colors. Lime greens and yellows, fuchsias and vermilions, bright oranges and browns—whatever combination was the most hideous, they ensured she received.

“How much longer are you going to stall?” Father snapped, finally turning to her. His mouth bowed into another scowl, this time deeper than usual, and the lines around his lips and cheeks pulled taut in displeasure.

“Apologies, Father,” she said quickly, bowing again.

She could hear the nobles lined up behind her tut their tongues and murmur; she didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that they were rolling their eyes or showing their impatience. She made way to leave, but Father’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Ah, wait.”

She jerkily turned to face him again. What now?

“I have found a suitable match for you. Lord Chen.” He reached forward and took a drink from a servant who stooped low in front of him with a platter of tea, assorted nuts, and fresh fruits. He sipped the drink, not even bothering to watch her. “He’ll marry you in a week’s time. Behave yourself until then.”

Zhi Ruo’s stomach coiled into a tighter knot and her limbs grew loose as she lowered her head. Hearing him say it out loud further cemented her fate; a fate twisted in misery and despair. She didn’t want to fall into the arms of an old, decrepit, heartless man.

“Rejoice, dear!” Lady Ning flashed a toothy grin. “We’ve found use for you yet!”

A chorus of laughter bubbled around the dais, and even Father snorted a chuckle at that. The servant shuffled over to Lady Ning and the concubines and offered them the platter, which they took the drinks from without even glancing at him.

Zhi Ruo bit her bottom lip to keep her strangled sob at bay. The pressure in the back of her eyes built, but she refused to cryin front of these people. She refused to let them see how much they beat down on her.

She had just spun on her heels to leave when a shrill, earsplitting shriek erupted in the hall. She whipped her head in the direction of it, only for another scream to break out. Soon, a cacophony of screams filled the hall.

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