Page 85 of Dynasty of the Wicked

Feng Mian let out a frustrated growl. “Fine. Please, just stick with me, then.”

They had taken a few steps toward the fighting, when Zhi Ruo froze and tugged at his hand. “The dragon! We can’t leave him behind?—”

“He’ll be fine?—”

“No.” Ash and greenish flames danced all around them, only solidifying her fears. She could imagine him, all alone, chained, while his tent went up in bursts of fire. He wouldn’t be able to fight back, or do anything. “We can’t leave him behind.”

“Chanming won’t allow that?—”

“Chanming also doesn’t want him dead.” She released his hand and headed back to the tent before he could protest.

Zhi Ruo shoved through the tent flap to find the dragon already on his feet, his claws out and his mouth curled back. When he saw her, his hands lowered, but he remained as alert as he was before. She rushed over to him without thinking, but he didn’t strike her like he did with Lanying, not even when she picked up the heavy chains and tried to yank them off his small wrists.

“Zhi Ruo,” Feng Mian said impatiently. “We have to go.”

“I know.” She tried pouring her magic into the chains to make them break, but she couldn’t think straight. Her heart raced and her fingers shook violently. “Come on,” she begged, wishing for her magic to crack the chains in half.

Feng Mian reached her in the next second and grabbed one of the dragon’s arms. The dragon hissed, lurched forward and sank his teeth into his forearm. Feng Mian cursed out loud, blood dripping down his arm, and grabbed one of the manacles. It cracked and shattered into a dozen pieces, which clanked onto the ground. Still, the dragon didn’t release his arm; if anything, he seemed to bite harder, a growl reverberating in his chest.

“Stop! He’s trying to help!” Zhi Ruo shouted as she tried yanking the dragon off him.

Feng Mian grabbed the second manacle and did the same, his face twisted in pain. “This is why I don’t trust the bastard,” he hissed, tossing the broken chains onto the ground. “You can let me go now.”

The dragon pulled back. Blood dribbled down his chin and coated his sharp teeth. He glared at Feng Mian.

Zhi Ruo snatched the dragon’s wrist. “We have to go,” she begged, hoping,praying, that he didn’t lash out at them both and cause any more damage. She hadn’t thought this would be the result of freeing him. She hadn’t thought that Feng Mian would be hurt because she wanted to free him—if she had been able to break his chains, if she could control her magic, then … then …

She banished that thought. She didn’t have time to spiral into doubts about her abilities.

Another explosion shook the ground, this time closer than before. Zhi Ruo’s ears rang from it, and her heart jumped to her throat. Feng Mian’s expression clouded, and he grabbed Zhi Ruo’s other hand, tugging her toward the entrance.

“Don’t stray too far from me,” he said, shoving through the tent. A cold, wintry gust blew over them. It carried the smell of bitter smoke. “If the dragon runs, let him. It’s not worth chasing him down. Just focus on staying alive.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He turned to her sharply, snow catching on his brows. “If I’m captured, or if I die, you need to get the hell out of here. Find safety somewhere, anywhere. Just survive, Zhi Ruo.”

Her throat closed up. She didn’t want to ask why he was speaking so ominously. Shouldn’t he be more confident that they would win this battle? Or was this too strange for him—having the Kadians attack so boldly, or having someone to protect? She didn’t have time to think about it, because a Kadian soldier jumped down from the sky, landing a few feet away from them with a sickening crunch of his feet.

Zhi Ruo turned sharply at the smell of death and decay clinging onto the warrior. He was a head taller than her, his armor tarnished with ink and blood, and his skin a ghastly pallid color. Giant scars ran over his face, and his entire lower half was shrouded in wispy shadows. His eyes were a piercing, unnatural arctic blue. So bright, so cold, and so very death-like.

He opened his mouth and screamed—shrill and terrifying—and ran toward them on broken feet. Feng Mian raised his hand and a burst of shadows ripped from his flesh, swallowing the man whole.

“W-What’s wrong with him?” she shouted.

“He’s—” Feng Mian started.

The man escaped from the shadows, his sword aimed at Zhi Ruo. She didn’t have time to react. The dragon jumped in front of her and opened his mouth. She placed her hands on his shoulders, ready to pull him back into safety, but he roared, loud and high-pitched. Bluish-red flames shot from his mouth, incinerating the eerie soldier in seconds. She was nearly blown back by the impact.

The dragon closed his mouth, tendrils of smoke slipping between his teeth.

Feng Mian’s eyes widened. “How?—”

The dragon’s ears twitched and he spun around, just in time for another Kadian soldier to launch at them from the sky. This one was shrouded in grisly shades, the black tendrils wrapped around his body like a second skin. Giant, shadowed wings sprouted from his back, and the only color visible was from his grayish face. His eyes, too, were a shocking pale blue.

Feng Mian drew his sword as the soldier slammed his black blade toward them. The clash of steel against steel clamored in the air. He fought him off, slicing the man’s hand off, but it did nothing to deter him, not even as bright blood gushed onto the snow and his severed limb plopped onto the ground. Not an ounce of emotion flickered on his face.

Zhi Ruo’s stomach clenched. Something was wrong. Her numb arm, which had been injured by the ghoul days ago, tingled. These soldiers … they felt too similar to the ghouls, she realized with a start.

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