Page 57 of Dynasty of the Wicked

Nausea and fear rolled over her. It would kill her—she could tell that much from one look. And it was hungry.

She didn’t think twice, she bolted toward Feng Mian, who was plowing through the snow, turning left and right in search for her.

“Feng Mian! Feng Mian!” She bit back a scream as she rolled away from another ghoul, its spindly fingers grazing her shoulder. She shivered, a white-cold pain numbing her arm, as if the life had been drained from her flesh. The dagger dropped from her hand, and she didn’t bother looking at the injury as she sprinted faster, thighs burning, calves tightening.

She crashed into his body and he instantly wrapped his arms around her. The ghouls seemed to be ignoring him, likely because he had summoned them, but she had a haunting idea that once these specters ate away the life of all these soldiers … they would turn on him too.

He pulled her back, breathing heavy. She could see the curse had spread up his neck, nearly brushing at his chin. “Did they touch you?”

“No—” But then she remembered her shoulder, and she flinched, trying to move her stiff fingers. “Yes. Yes, they did.”

The space around his eyes tightened and he exhaled shakily. “Okay, we need to get out of here.Now.”

“Okay—”

He grabbed her face in his hands, panicked, and indecision flickering over his gray eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”

“No, no. We can talk later.” She placed her hand atop his. “We have to leave. Should we find a horse that’s alive?”

He didn’t have to tell her about how apologetic he was for summoning these creatures; he had done it for their survival. But there was something about his expression that made her pause, that made her wonder if there was some other reason he was apologizing. But she quickly banished that thought.

“No.” He closed his eyes. “They’ll catch us and kill us.”

She shivered again. So she was right, they would kill them too, once they were done with everyone else.

“I didn’t want to do this, and I’m so sorry, but you will be in danger once I do—” He grasped her face tightly, brushing his lips against hers swiftly. “When we arrive there, you mustn’t tell them your real name. You are not a MuRong, do you understand me? You are not a princess, nor are you Zhi Ruo. Pick another name.Please.”

“What—What are you talking about?” She licked her lips, confused, trying hard not to stare at the ghouls whipping around them in steaks of black. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t have time to answer. She could feel the flicker of his magic spreading over her body, nausea rolling in her stomach tightly. His mouth opened, but she barely heard the words as their surroundings changed violently.

“I’m sorry.”

19

The ghastly blackfigures of the ghouls, the screaming Kadian solders, the hills of white—all of it was ripped from her eyes in a split second, replaced by beige and forest-green tents, soldiers in dark uniforms, and a blaze of fire. The sounds of shrieks, bones and sinews snapping, and gurgling blood disappeared. The smells of death and decay were replaced with cooked chicken, woodsmoke, and sweat. The change was so violent that Zhi Ruo’s stomach seized and she vomited in the next second; Feng Mian held onto her waist as she doubled over, her head feeling like it was going to split open. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in heavily.

Where were they? What had happened?

She could hear people murmuring, someone shouting something, and the popping and crackling of fire. She peeled her eyes open and was met with dozens of Huo soldiers staring at them wide-eyed. She blinked, and slowly looked around her surroundings, her queasiness increasing with her confusion. They were in a war camp. Green and silver MuRong banners streamed with the wind, erected beside giant tents.

“Feng Mian?” A man approached them, his dark hair slicked back into a high bun, a silver crown pinning his hair in place, andeyes like starless night. A slow, dimpled smile spread on his face. “Feng Mian! Where have you been? Took you long enough.”

“I know.” Feng Mian’s shoulders sagged, and he winced, as if suddenly feeling the pain of battle. There was blood streaked on his face, and his shoulder was bleeding.

The man paused in front of them, his gloved hands going to his hips as he inspected them both. Zhi Ruo couldn’t stop staring at him, her chest tight and uncomfortable. He looked just like her father—so similar to the point that she was terrified that itwasFather. A youthful, more promising,smilingversion of him.

Fear made her stomach coil tighter and she resisted the waves of nausea that rolled over her. She trembled, a deep-seated panic telling her that she needed to lower herself onto her knees and lower her gaze—no one was allowed to meet the emperor’s gaze unprompted, and he had seen her use magic, hadn’t he?

Spit collected in her mouth, and she heaved again, vomiting into a puddle beside the slush-ice and frozen mud. Bitter bile coated her tongue and she shivered.

“Ah, warping isn’t easy on the stomach,” the man continued cheerily. He clapped Feng Mian on the shoulder; Feng Mian stiffened, hissing in an inhale. The man paused, staring at the injury. “Right, you were in battle? We can talk after your wounds are taken care of. Lanying, can you take them to the infirmary?”

“On it,” a singsong female voice lulled from the crowd.

Zhi Ruo’s eyebrows tugged together. Did he saywarping? She had heard about it before, but had never witnessed it herself. It was high magic that allowed the user to instantaneously go to a different location. It was a complicated, extremely difficult type of magic that practically nobody used because of how dangerous it was. There were so many stories of trained mages making mistakes and leaving limbs or other body parts behind. She didn’t know if she should be impressed that Feng Mian hadbeen able to successfully warp them somewhere, or horrified at the risk he had taken.

Feng Mian pressed a gentle hand on her lower back. “Are you well enough to walk?”

---