Page 70 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“Then you should put it on me. Not on this dress, since it’s ripped, but maybe a different one.” She pulled back at the strips of torn fabric stuck into the cuts on her forearm, grimacing the whole time.

Feng Mian’s mouth pursed together into a firm line, and she had the sense that he could tell she was in pain, even though he couldn’t see it. Or maybe her mentioning the rips in her dress had reminded him of it. She had no way of knowing, and she didn’t want to revisit that particular line of conversation, so she pushed her way inside the tent.

“I’ll call Physician Wu,” he said at the entrance of their room.

“I’m fine?—”

“Why did you leave in the middle of the night?” Feng Mian curled his hands together, his expression flickering between cool indifference to silent anger. He couldn’t completely shutter his emotions, because she could read him clearly, maybe better than before, when she’d only seen him through rose-tinted lenses.

“Because,” she gritted out, “I can? I’m not a prisoner here.”

“You’re not,” he agreed. “But … you didn’t tell me.”

“Am Isupposedto?” She sat down on the bedding and yanked at the sleeve of her dress. It tore easily, the rips loud in the quiet of night. She tore off more sections and slowly bound her wound with clumsy, awkward motions. “I am married to you, yes, but we only married so we could escape. Now that we’re no longer in Wyer’s clutches, why do we need to remain married? Wouldn’t it be easier to divorce and move on with our lives?”

He flinched like she had slapped him, inhaling sharply. “What?”

“You heard me.” Zhi Ruo pinned him with a harsh look and she wished he could see how angry she was, but she instead triedto add as much vitriol to her tone instead. “We don’t need to be married anymore. We can stop this farce.”

“You … are serious?”

“Why are you pretending to be so shocked?” She laughed bitterly as she continued to bandage herself with the remnants of her torn sleeve. “You don’t love me, Feng Mian. What reason do we have to remain married? Surely, you didn’t think I would stay with you just because I have nowhere else to go? In case you forgot, I’m not a nobody. I don’tneedyou. If you don’t love me, then there’s no reason for us to be together.”

“I don’t … I don’t want to separate.” His voice was barely a whisper.

Zhi Ruo snorted. “Why? You seem to care for me, but you don’t love me. So maybe you just want someone to warm your bed? Is that it? Well, in that case, I’m sure you can find plenty?—”

“Stop.” He stepped further into the room. The only light source was the moonlight filtering through the thinner sections of the tent, and it warped across the angry planes of his face. “I am not with you for that reason. I … I care for you, Zhi Ruo, and I wish to be with you.”

“You are confused,” she spat, “and until your confusion clears, there is no reason for us to be together. You care for me, but you don’t love me. You wish to die on the battlefield, but you want to live long enough for your friend to sit on the throne. You wish to die for your friend, you wish to sleep with me, you wish for … for so many things that conflict with one another.”

“Everything is complicated.”

“No, things areverysimple. You are just too much of a coward to see things as they are. You are indecisive and unworthy?—”

Her words were cut off; he was in front of her in a split second. He towered over her, his mouth curled into a snarl, and his hands balled together. Even like this, full of unadulteratedrage, he was beautiful. His silvery eyes flashed. “Donotcall me a coward, Zhi Ruo.”

“Have I struck a nerve?” She peered up at him with a frown. She didn’t know what it was that pushed her to keep poking at his wounds, but she couldn’t stop. Not when he had hurt her so badly. Not when she wanted to hurt him back. “You are a coward, Zheng Feng Mian, and nothing you do will convince me otherwise. You have betrayed me and my trust, so how can you be anything but unworthy?”

He dropped down until he was sitting on his heels, almost at her level, and grasped her chin roughly, turning her so she could stare up at him. Maybe he realized what effect he had on her. That when she looked at him, it hurt to breathe sometimes.

“You are a cruel woman,” he hissed.

“And you are a cruel man.” She slapped his hand away. “You say you don’t love me, but you hate when anyone disrespects me. You hate being without me. And you hate when I’m hurt. It sounds to me like you do love me, but you are too terrified to admit it. Because admitting it means you have to choose between me and Chanming, and in your mind, you’ve already promised Chanming the throne, haven’t you? But I am getting in the way of it now, and itconfusesyou.”

Feng Mian clenched his teeth together. The black streaks on his neck stood out, and she wondered, briefly, how much of his curse Chanming had aggravated. How many times had Feng Mian used his magic for Chanming’s cause? How much of his life did he give up every time he fought for him? It twisted her stomach and made her sick.

“You have never chosen yourself, have you?” All the harshness deflated from her voice, replaced with sadness. She blinked away the stinging of her unshed tears. If he valued himself, would he choose her instead of helping her half-brotherusurp the throne? But maybe she was too arrogant and hopeful to think that way—to think that his happiness was with her.

“I have told you since the beginning, Princess,” he seethed, “I can love no one. I am a monster.”

“You are not a monster.” She glared at him harder this time, hoping he could feel the cutting edge of it. “You are just scared.”

“I am not scared, Zhi Ruo.”

“You told me yourself.” Zhi Ruo pushed herself onto her knees, leveling her stare with his. She hooked her hands onto his shoulders, her fingers digging into the soft material of his robes. The military uniform clung to his lean figure. “You are scared of me. What I do to you.”

His scowl darkened.

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