Page 18 of Dynasty of the Wicked

Zhi Ruo restedher forehead against the space beneath the window sill. The cold, wintry air seeped through the cracks and chilled her down to her bones. She shuddered and brought the torn sections of her dress to cover herself better, her mind racing. There were far too many soldiers to go unnoticed, especially since it looked like they were in the center of the camp. It made sense, in theory, why the Kadians would make a camp around the dungeon area, to better ensure no one escaped, but she had hoped, naively, that she had been kidnapped by a small band of soldiers. Not … an entire army.

“What is it?” Feng Mian whispered, his face just inches away from hers. “What do you see out there?”

She searched his blood-splattered, bruised face, and then stared out the window again. A gust of wind blew flurries against the glass. “We’re completely surrounded. I don’t think we can sneak out without notice.”

“Why not? You’re practically half my size. I’m sure you can sneak around while I distract them all.”

If they weren’t in such a dire situation, she might have laughed at that. She wasn’t short or small or overly thin by normal standards—she was pretty average in those departments—but he seemed to dwarf everyone. She was sure her perfect sister Ying Yue would look even more dainty and womanly next to him.

The thought soured her stomach, and she quickly shook it away.

No distractions. Especially not bitter ones.

“I’m not that … minuscule,” she settled with. “They’ll notice right away.”

“Then maybe?—”

She grabbed his arm and hissed a response as a soldier began headed their way. Whether they wanted to or not, they had to move quickly or he would alert the others.

“We have the element of surprise,” Zhi Ruo said in a rush.

The soldier was a few meters away. His flop of reddish-brown hair was half covered by a metal helmet, his gaze downcast and his cheeks ruddy from cold.

“We have to move,now. Same plan as before.”

The soldier had just pushed open the door and stepped inside before his eyes widened at Zhi Ruo’s presence; he opened his mouth to say something, but Feng Mian lunged at him too fast. With a sick slash, his sword cut through the man’s neck. The soldier collapsed to the floor, his hands flying up to his slit throat. Bones poked out from the bloody gash.

Feng Mian burst through the door and Zhi Ruo shadowed him. They had taken only half a dozen steps before soldiers shouted in alarm, the collective sound of their swords being drawn ringing in the camp. Zhi Ruo’s heart thudded loudly, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she pivoted toward the horses dozens of feet away. She barely registered the snow seeping into her thin slippers.

All around her, soldiers sprang into action. She could hear Feng Mian’s sword clang with the others, could see men collapsein her peripheral vision, and could taste the iron pervading the misty, snowy landscape.

Ten feet away.

Her thighs burned, her breath streaming out behind her. She ran past a soldier trying to yank his sword out of its scabbard. Her feet slapped the icy ground.

Five feet away.

She didn’t even know how to ride a horse. She had never been allowed on one. She wasn’t even sure if she was tall enough or strong enough to vault herself onto its back. But she had to try, she had to?—

Two soldiers jumped in front of her, blocking her way with their swords drawn. Their angry gazes were locked on her.

Zhi Ruo tried backing away to find another path, but more soldiers surrounded her. In seconds, a dozen soldiers had formed a circle around her. Her chest heaved up and down, her eyes skating from person to person. All of them had the tips of their silver swords aimed at her.

Feng Mian grunted in the distance. She whipped her head to the side and saw, with a sinking heart, that Feng Mian was on the ground, two soldiers pinning him into the snow. They had managed to wrangle the sword from his hand.

Zhi Ruo’s arms dropped to her side limply, the knife slipping out of her hand to plop into one of the many piles of slushy snow.

“Take her to the general,” one of the soldiers snapped. “And chain the other one up.”

When the soldier closest to her grabbed her arm, something snapped within her and she screamed and struggled, ripping her arm away from him. She didn’t want to be captured again, tossed in a dungeon cell, especially with her torn dress where everyone could ogle and jeer. She snatched the knife off the ground, but the others already swarmed her.

She kicked and shrieked as they dragged her away.

“Princess!Princess!”

She searched the crowds of people for Feng Mian. The soldiers were now kicking him as he tried shaking them off, his limbs connecting with nearby men. He was shouting something, and it took her a moment to realize what.

Don’t touch her.

---