Page 6 of Dynasty of the Wicked

Movement exploded all around her. Men garbed in black with gleaming swords crowded the hall in seconds, their faces masked, and their movements quick as they wove through the masses. Nobles pushed and shoved, trying desperately to escape. Blasts of green fire shot overhead, burning the MuRong banners and ribbons.

Father jumped to his feet; all the color drained from his face, and he shouted, “G-Guards! My guards, in formation,now!”

Zhi Ruo froze in place, her gaze skating from the veiled intruders to the burning banners and then to the chaos surrounding her. This couldn’t be real. Intruders within the palace? There was no way people could infiltrate this deep. There was no way?—

Someone shoved into her shoulder as they ran, and she staggered to the floor, her knees buckling over the cold polished wood. It snapped her out of her reverie. She pushed herself up to her feet, but another person barreled into her, spinning her back to the floor. Her heart raced, her body trembling.

Where were her guards?

She raised her head in time to see Ying Yue and Wanqing huddled close together, two guards circling them protectively as they fought off three masked intruders. Wanqing clutched his arm; blood bloomed over his torn robes. She had never seen such frightened expressions on her siblings’ faces.

One of the assassins threw something that flashed. One second Wanqing was standing beside Ying Yue, and the next he collapsed on the floor. The hilt of a dagger was buried in hisforehead. Dark blood bathed his face in seconds, dripping down his head and pooling on the floor. The hem of Ying Yue’s soft pink skirt was immediately drenched in his blood.

Her sister’s mouth dropped into an O, her eyes staring at the corpse.

Wanqing … her brother … was now … dead?

Zhi Ruo tried to rise again, but one of the screaming concubines jumped off the dais and tripped over her bent body. The woman stumbled, rolled, and tried scrambling to her feet, but one of the intruders was in front of her in a split second. Zhi Ruo watched in horror as the man sliced his sword through the air.

Zing.

The concubine’s head bounced on the floor, her mouth agape, tears still clinging to her lashes and streaks of blood following the wake of her rolling.

Zhi Ruo clamped over her mouth with trembling hands.

This couldn’t be happening.

The woman’s severed head landed a few feet away from Zhi Ruo’s feet. A scream released from her throat and she fell on her rear, scrambling backward on her hands. The woman’s eyes, which had been alight with glee ten minutes ago, were now glassy and transfixed on Zhi Ruo.

Her hands slipped on sticky, hot blood and her elbows gave out beneath her, causing her to fall flat on her back. On the ceiling, the banners of silver and emerald-green were up in flames, sparks and ash crumbling into the smoky, fogged room.

Zhi Ruo flipped on her stomach and pushed herself to her feet. The discord of screams continued to clash in the background. Her hair had fallen out of its elaborate updo.

“H-help!” she shouted, turning her head toward the royal guards who were pushing past guests. “Someone?—”

Her scream was stuck in her throat and time slowed as one of the intruders lurched onto the dais where Father was, a sword glinting silver in his hand, and sank the blade into his stomach. Father coughed, blood trickling down the sides of his mouth. Blood darkened his purple robes, making them appear black. The assassin yanked the blade back and was about to jab again, when a royal guard tackled him off the platform, landing a few feet away from Zhi Ruo.

Father crumpled on the stage, his fingers splayed over his stomach as blood gushed from the wound. Zhi Ruo turned jerkily to the royal guard and assassin rolling on the floor beside her. The guard jammed a short knife into the assassin’s throat and pulled back; blood sprayed immediately, and Zhi Ruo inhaled sharply as it splattered over her face.

Her legs buckled and she fell to the floor. Fear paralyzed her, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything other than the numbing sensation spreading over her chest.

It was like a nightmare was unfolding around her, but no matter how many times she pinched her arm, she couldn’t wake.

The guard turned to her, then to her father, and then to Wanqing. His mouth hardened, something flickering in his gaze.

“Protect the princess!” he shouted at the other guards.

He lurched up to his feet. Through all the horror, a semblance of relief amalgamated in her chest and she tried standing again. It was the push she needed to jolt her into action. She would be protected; this guard and the other royal guards would defend her. She could somehow escape this macabre scene with their help.

But just as she was thinking that, the guard ran past her and all the other guards in the vicinity formed a semi-circle around Ying Yue. They all drew their swords, fighting off the blades of the assassins.

“Protect the princess!” one of the guards shouted again.

It was like a slap to the face. Zhi Ruo inhaled sharply, reeling backward. They weren’t protecting her at all, but were all up in arms for her perfect sister. Something cracked within her that moment, spreading all over her chest like spidery webs. The pain was too much, each inhale feeling like she was breathing fire.

She wasn’t going to die here.

She refused to die.

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