Page 84 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“Am I sure? Yes, yes I am.” She tried to smile, and even though she knew he couldn’t see it, she hoped that he could hear it in her voice. “I wish for us to be together through it all. Regardless of …”

She didn’t finish her sentence. She couldn’t say the words out loud.

“I understand.”

He placed his thumb over his wrist, and the thick, cursed veins running over his fingers, over his skin, pulsed and writhed. A small tendril lashed out from him and burrowed itself into her flesh. She gasped at the pinprick sensation. The darkness swirled beneath her skin before contracting and settling into a crescent moon shape.

Zhi Ruo pulled her hand away, her wide eyes set on the mark. She ran her finger over it, but it felt like skin, like a tattoo. And yet she could feel the coldness of it deep in her bones. A slow smile spread over her face.

“You can tell where I am now?”

“I can.”

“I’m sure this will be useful,” she said. “Like, if I am away at your father’s estate, you can tell that I am far away and safe.”

“Yes.” He touched her cheek. “It will bring me great ease to know that you are safe.”

“And if I die? Would you be able to tell?”

Feng Mian stiffened like she had slapped him. “I … I would be able to tell.”

“Don’t worry.” She placed her hand over his. “I don’t plan on dying. At least not easily.” She had meant for it to come out in a teasing manner, but it sounded strained and strangled, like she didn’t believe it herself. And even Feng Mian looked uncomfortable, pained, at the prospect.

The clanking of chains reminded her they weren’t alone. The dragon shifted into a different sitting position, the heavy chains dragging over the floor with the motion. He yawned, his mouth growing wide and showcasing his unnatural teeth.

“Drakkon,” she began. “You shouldn’t yawn so brazenly. It’s considered rude.”

“He’s a dragon. Our manners don’t matter to him.” The corner of Feng Mian’s mouth rose. “And Drakkon?”

“I’ve been thinking of names,” she admitted sheepishly. “I haven’t thought of anything better, so far.”

Feng Mian opened his mouth to speak, but his expression dropped and he tilted his head to the side. At the same time, the dragon’s ears twitched and he straightened, his eyes becoming alert.

“What—” Zhi Ruo began, but a wave of dense, wintry magic jolted her senses. A shiver ran down her spine, freezing her fingers and toes, and making her skin crawl. It only lasted a split second, but she could tell, even with her inexperience, that it didn’t belong to any of them. Not even Feng Mian’s cursed magic felt … thisoff. Like death itself.

Before she could ask what was happening, the ground began to tremble and a giant explosion sounded in the distance. She gasped, grabbing a hold of Feng Mian’s arm just as another blast sounded.

“Feng Mian?—”

“The Kadians.” His eyes widened. “They’re attacking.”

26

Feng Mianand Zhi Ruo ran outside the tent just as a ball of green fire was lobbed through the air and struck one of the tents several feet away. The blast knocked them both off their feet, sending them crashing onto the ground in a heap. Smoke filled the air, intermingled with shouts and screams. Fire roared all around them. She struggled to her knees, staring around in horror. Tents were ablaze, soldiers ran with their swords drawn, and the air was heavy with dark magic and deathly coldness.

Feng Mian rose to his feet, dragging her up with one arm. “I need to get you somewhere safe.”

“No.” Zhi Ruo clutched his arm as another blast of greenish fire destroyed another section of the camp. “I’m not leaving you! I can fight, too.”

He seemed to weigh his options, his brow heavy with worry. “Princess, something’s not right. Their magic was never this—” He pushed her to the ground as another wave of death-like magic wafted over the air, a hissing scream following in its wake. “Thisstrong.”

The snow seeped into the back of her cloak and dress and the smell of burning flesh and charcoal filled her nostrils with an ashy taste. Her body trembled as she picked herself up.

“I still want to fight,” she said.

“But—”

“We don’t have time to argue. Just accept my help.” Zhi Ruo gritted her teeth and stared off at the distance. They were at one end of the camp, and the fighting seemed to be focused on the opposite end; which force was attacking them this brazenly? The green fire reminded her of Wyer, but … but he was dead.

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