Page 11 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“Like what? Being blind?” His voice came out harsh and he motioned to the contorted corpse. “Have I not proven myself, Princess?”

“He is a general’s son,” the elderly man called from the furthest corner of his cell. He grinned widely and Zhi Ruo cringed at the toothless, rotten smile. “General Zheng is his father. It’s the only reason they’re keeping him alive here.”

General Zheng’s son? A jolt of surprise coursed through her body and she stared at the beautiful man. She couldn’t see much resemblance between the two; General Zheng was painted in shades of darkness, while this man seemed to glow like the moon.

But then it hit her. Shehadheard of him.

“Zheng Feng Mian?” she said slowly. “You’re the cursed heir.”

Now it was his turn to flinch. She took advantage of that moment and stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him. How could he say all that crap about her being wicked and terrible, when he himself had a sour reputation?

He was cursed with evil magic, she had heard, and he was violent, impulsive, and overall, a great disappointment. And, since his father had only had daughters after Feng Mian’s birth, General Zheng was forced to name the blind, cursed child as his heir.

“Your magic is terrible,” Zhi Ruo continued, watching the way he tightened his jaw. “It corrodes all that it touches. It is devoid of life. A terrible, terrible curse that will kill you and all you hold dear.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he seethed.

“Oh? Then maybe keep your mouth shut about me, because you also don’t know anything about me, Feng Mian.” His name rolled off her tongue so easily, almost like she had known him for a long time. Any formalities she should have upheld had withered the moment he had called her wicked.

They both stared at each other, or more accurately, she stared at him while he glared in her general direction. He grumbled something she didn’t catch, stalked off to the barred wall they shared with the old man, and plopped down in the corner. The tension in the room grew tight, but the apprehension she felt at the possible confrontation fizzled away when she realized he wasn’t going to do anything.

Her legs buckled and she slid down the wall. Sighing, she buried her face in her hands to keep from screaming, or crying, or cursing out loud—she didn’t even know what she was supposed to feel. All the fight left her body and she shook uncontrollably. She was a prisoner here. Panic bubbled up to the surface of her usually masked expression. She was stuck here, for who knew how long. And her only companion was alecherous old man and a notorious, cursed man whose magic was said to kill everything he touched.

She didn’t know which was worse.

4

Zhi Ruo satin a balled-up position for the next half hour. She had found a small bowl of water in the cell and had drunk the whole thing; Feng Mian hadn’t said a word the entire time, and neither did the old man, who’d kept his distance since Feng Mian sat by their shared bars. Now that the tension of everything had diffused, she couldn’t stop feeling everything all at once: disappointment and betrayal that the guards in the royal palace had jumped to save Ying Yue rather than her, misery over her pitiful position here in this prison, fear at what was to come, and abandonment from her own people.

She knew, for a fact, that Father would rescue her, but not because he loved her. Rather, he would want to preserve the dignity of the royal family by saving her and ensuring she wasn’t sullied. She was still a princess of the empire, a symbol, that could easily be exploited in the hands of the enemy. Father would want to protect the image of the royal family and the empire.

How long must she remain in this prison before he sent his forces to save her? Did he even know where she was located? She had no idea how long she’d been out for. It could have been a fewdays, or weeks. She had no way of knowing, since she had been drugged for the majority of it.

She hugged her torn, dirtied dress closer to her body, hating the way the chill was sending goosebumps up her filthy skin. She hated the grimy feeling of dirt clinging under her nails, of sweat and vomit drenching her dress, and the grittiness of filth against her skin. She wanted to go home. She wanted to slip under her warm covers and sleep this nightmare away. She wanted to wake up and realize it had all been in her head.

Her stomach growled loudly and she tucked her chin over her knees. The back of her eyes stung with tears and if she was alone, she would curl into a tighter ball and sob herself to sleep. But it was hard to ignore Feng Mian’s presence.

“Here.”

Zhi Ruo jerked her head up to find Feng Mian holding out a few strips of the dried meat he had swiped from the Kadian soldier. When she didn’t immediately move toward him to grab it, he waved it once more.

“I’m getting tired of listening to your stomach cave in on itself.” He motioned toward the dead soldier just outside the entrance of their cell. “They’ll find his body soon and then they’ll strip this cell down top to bottom, so this is your only chance.”

She wanted to refuse and snap at him to mind his own business, or to tell him that she didn’t want help from a cursed magicked person, but her stomach rumbled again and she gladly crawled over and snatched it from his hand before plopping down in the corner again. Without wasting another breath, she bit into the tough meat and chewed with great difficulty. It was salty, had a strong earthy and beefy taste, and was surprisingly tasty. She ravenously chewed on the rest of the strips.

Feng Mian’s mouth twitched into a smirk and she scowled at him, though he wouldn’t be able to tell.

Her eyes had mostly adjusted to the darkness and she could now make out the dried blood and urine staining the floors, the dead mice in the other corners of the cell and outside in the hallway, and the cobwebs stuck to the ceiling like a gauzy canopy.

“If you have such powerful magic, why can’t you get out of here?” she asked between bites of the meat. “Can’t you just … blast the doors away?”

His smile faded, replaced with a grimace. “I can’t. They sealed my magic away.”

“How is that even possible?” The mages in the royal palace were still studying magic and the intricacies of it, most of it still a mystery, but hearing that it was possible to seal magic sent a shiver down her spine. What if the Kadians found a way to completely seal all of their magic?

Feng Mian held his hands up, showing her the two bands of metal bound snugly over his wrists. “They created this tool that keeps me from using my magic. I don’t really know how it works, but it does. It’s been over a month since I’ve been captured and I still haven’t been able to use it. I can feel it inside me, but that’s about it.”

“Have you tried breaking it? Or can it only be broken by magic?”

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