Page 27 of Dynasty of the Wicked

She liked to think that she was different than him; that she wouldn’t be tempted to use cursed magic, but she could make no promises, because she imagined herself back at Father’s court.She thought of how powerless she was, and how if she had even an ounce of power … she would want to utilize it. She hated being weak.

Feng Mian’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Hold your other hand out, and think of a fire lighting in your hand. Think about the way it burns, the heat licking your flesh, the way it rises and flickers.”

Zhi Ruo did as she was told. She stared at the small fire just outside their cage and imagined it was on the palm of her hand, growing and glimmering and feasting on her energy. Her eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. She imagined the heat that radiated from the fire, the way it would sting her hand, but no matter how hard she glared at her fingers, no fire appeared.

“Well?” she said, a wedge forming between her brows. “What now?”

“Reach within yourself to find your source of magic.”

“How?”

“Imagine it.”

She tried again, this time tapping into herself and imagining the flames bursting from her fingertips. No matter how hard she tried, though, nothing appeared. She almost felt silly imagining magic within herself. All of it seemed so illusory, like he would pull back and laugh that she had stupidly thought she could wield magic.

“I … I can’t.” Zhi Ruo’s shoulders dropped, frustration lacing through her heated words. “I keep trying to imagine some sort of energy within me, but I can’t. All I feel is … nothing. Just stupid.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You don’t feel it? It feels like a mass in your chest that ebbs and flows throughout your body. Like a sun spreading heat to your extremities. Or like … a deep coldness extending over everywhere.”

“I don’t feel anything.” Embarrassment flooded her at the admission. Maybe she wasn’t blessed with magic, despite being of royal blood. Maybe this was just another reminder that even though she was a MuRong, she was a great disappointment.

Feng Mian frowned. “I have always felt it my whole life, so I find it strange that you do not. Perhaps it is because you’ve never practiced your magic before? I have heard others describe the first time they used magic akin to the opening of a gate.”

“Maybe my gates are rusted shut,” she half-joked to alleviate her stinging disappointment.

“It’s impossible. You’re a MuRong.”

“But—”

“Sit here.” He motioned toward his lap, and she froze, a blush staining her cheeks.

“W-what? Why?”

“I will manually open your energy. I can’t use my magic, but I can manipulate yours to some degree, especially more so now that we are bound to one another.”

She smoothed down her greasy hair with one hand while pressing against her crinkled skirt with the other. She was a mess and the thought of sitting so close to him—onhim—mortified her. She was dirty, smelly, and unappealing in every way as she was now.

“And that requires me tositon you?” Her voice rose incredulously, mostly due to her own embarrassment.

An apologetic expression passed over him. “The more of your body that touches mine, the more I can release the energy trapped in yours. It is either that, or you lie on top of me, and I figured this would be … more pleasant for you.”

“It … it isn’tpleasantfor me.” Her face burned hotter.

He lifted a silvery white eyebrow. “Would you rather lie on me?”

“No.” She coughed and slowly raised herself into a crouch. Hesitating, she inched closer to him. “Very well, I shall … sit on you. But be warned that I am not in any state that?—”

Whatever she was going to say was cut off when he grasped her wrist and yanked her down on him. She suppressed a yelp as her face crashed against his chest, her legs splaying on either sides of his thigh and her hands reflexively grasping his shoulders. She tried pulling herself back, but his arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her even closer, his warm breath tickling over her neck.

“W-What are you doing?” she asked, trying to sit upright, her bottom precariously balanced on his thigh. When she peered up at him, a wicked grin spread over his soft mouth. His chest rumbled with a short laugh.

“You were too slow,” he said. “And I didn’t want to hear you blabber on about how insecure you are to be near me.”

She tried wrenching away again, embarrassment rushing over her flaming cheeks, but he kept her in place, pulling her tighter against his chest. Her hands splayed over his broad, hard chest and she found it hard to breathe so close to him, with their mouths inches away from each others’ and the memory of their shared kiss replaying in her mind.

“You don’t have to worry about your appearance, Princess,” he said, leaning closer so his lips grazed her ear. “Iamblind, remember? I can’t see what you look like.”

A shiver ran down her spine and a warmth spread throughout her core, despite the wintry chill around them.

---