Page 55 of Dynasty of the Wicked

He tilted his head in the direction behind them, his pretty mouth pursing together, smile fading. “There are … dozens of them, that much I can ascertain. I will try to take on the brunt of them and leech them of their life. You … you must use your magic to kill as many as you can, too.” A hand squeeze. “Don’t let your magic run wild, Princess, because you might not be able to control it like last time. If at any point you feel like you can’t fight … find me, and I will take care of it.”

Take care of it.

She didn’t want to think about what he meant by that. How were they supposed to fight against an army by themselves? She had fought as hard as she could last time, and had killed countless Kadians, but that had been accidental. Her magic hadconsumed her, spreading chaos to everyone around her. She wasn’t sure if she could repeat it.

But she didn’t have time to think about that, because Wyer’s army crested the top of the hill in the distance, and her stomach dropped at the sheer size of them. Dozens of soldiers rode on horses who clomped and plowed through the thick snow. She gripped Feng Mian’s hand tighter. The army had spotted them, she was sure.

He exhaled deeply, releasing her hand and flexing his fingers. There was a wild sheen in his eyes. “Are you ready?”

They would be upon them in minutes.

Zhi Ruo willed her magic to come to the surface, but only sheer panic reared its head. Her hands trembled and she clasped her stiff fingers together to feel something. “I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

She quickly took out the daggers she had stored in the cloak’s pocket and fastened her hands around the leather hilts. They were too heavy for her, and she felt clumsy just holding them, but it was better than nothing. She still didn’t have a clear grasp on her magic, so she felt better with a weapon.

Zhi Ruo stared at the horizon of horses and riders. There must have been a hundred of them—maybe one-hundred-and-fifty. So definitely not the whole army, but enough to make her insides roil with nausea.

Wyer was in the front of the pack, bluish-green magic bursting from his hands as he cleared a path along the snowy landscape. She wished in that moment that she could go back to a few hours ago, when she was snuggled in Feng Mian’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder, with the occasional feather-like kiss against her temple. She forced herself to think back to that, and how she wanted to protect it, to have that moment again.

She could feel something swirl beneath the surface of her skin, as if ready to explode. A breath raked out of her shakily, painfully, as Wyer’s army closed in.

Feng Mian raised his hand, and the black veins on his skin stood out more, thickening and raising in ugly lines. And then, a blast of shadows burst from him.

Zhi Ruo was blown backward as a sea of writhing, screaming, shadows engulfed the first wave of soldiers. She tightened her clammy hands on the daggers, eyes widening as everything became consumed in black. She blinked, but before relief could get the better of her, Wyer and a few dozen soldiers broke through the chaos, no longer riding their horses. Blue magic glowed from their bodies, protecting them against the blackness that leeched life out of their comrades.

The army surrounded them instantly, and Feng Mian drew his blade the next second, clashing against the nearest soldier. Zhi Ruo tripped backward as a soldier cleaved his sword where she had stood, her heart hammering in her chest. One of the daggers slipped from her hand as she rolled away from his second attack.

“Don’t kill her,” Wyer snarled, coming from her left. Veins throbbed on his neck. He shoved his soldier toward Feng Mian, never ripping his gaze from her. “She’smine.”

She scrambled to her feet, circling Wyer and raising her one dagger up at him. In her peripheral vision, Feng Mian’s shadows lashed out at anyone who drew near to them, causing the soldiers to fall to their knees, their faces bloodless as they collapsed. Only those with magic seemed to be able to trespass close to them. But Feng Mian dealt with them, his magic whipping around them in a circle, lashing at anyone who drew closer.

Wyer’s lips peeled back into a snarl. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me,Princess?” He spat the word out like poison, his eyes narrowing to slits.

He lunged at her, sword aimed at her shoulder, and she barely stepped away, her legs leaden and numb in the cold. She raised her free hand and Wyer leaped backward, his sword raised defensively.

She expected a torrent of magic to writhe from the edges of her rage, to blast him into smithereens, but nothing happened.

Her panic swelled.

Wyer’s mouth curved higher, sharper. “Having trouble?”

He flicked his wrist and green spears of magic shot toward her. The magic hit her square in the chest, the shoulder, and the leg, before disappearing. A scream erupted from her throat as she was flung backward and a crippling pain shocked through her system, making her toes curl and her limbs seize. Shadows danced in the corners of her vision—she wasn’t sure if it was Feng Mian’s magic, or her own consciousness fading.

She could hear Wyer approach her, his boots crunching beneath the snow. In the distance, Feng Mian grunted and roared in battle, steel clashing with steel, the cries of Kadians erupting all around them.

Zhi Ruo gritted her teeth together, blinking at the snow-filtered sky. A swirl of dark magic vibrated on her fingertips. She tried grasping the weapon that she had been holding, but she must have dropped it, because her hands were empty.

“You shouldn’t have tried to run,” Wyer sneered, voice drawing closer. “You should have remained as you were. I always track down what’s mine, and you are no exception,Princess.”

She rolled onto her stomach, gasping at the sharp jabs throbbing where she had been hit, and clenched her teeth together to keep from screaming. She pushed herself into a sitting position, but another flash of glowing green magichurtled her back to the ground. Her mouth opened to scream as white-hot pain dug into her shoulder, but no sound came out. Her muscles contracted, her body going stiff with shock and pain again.

“You useless, stupidbitch,” he continued, cracking his wrists.

Her magic roared, singing in her veins, screaming at her to use it. But she was stuck, mouth wide open, body turning cold and frozen.

“You killed dozens of my men. Do you really think you can ever escape from me?”

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