Page 64 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“I’m, um, the daughter of a small noble,” she rushed, smoothing down her skirts. “The Kadians didn’t know any better. Anyway, is there any news of the war efforts? I heard from the prison that the royal family was attacked?”

Lanying pursed her lips together, rocking slightly forward and back like a gleeful child. She unfurled herself like a cat, slow and graceful. “Hm. Let’s see … the emperor was stabbed, but the old bastard survived, somehow. Though, I’ve heard he’s at death’s door. Bedridden and shit.” She blinked, glancing over at her sharply. “Ah, sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t say that? It is treason, right?”

Zhi Ruo could only offer a weak smile. She remembered how the assassin had slid his blade into Father’s stomach, and how Father had fallen to his knees. She could still smell the iron in the air, the tension thickening the room, the screams?—

“The crown prince died, and a few other distant, lesser important royals. The only ones who survived are the two princesses,” the woman rattled off. “Oh, and the emperor wanted to see his daughter married off to someone wealthy and powerful, so he could have an heir as soon as possible, so there was supposed to be a giant wedding about two weeks ago? But the princess disappeared a few days before the wedding. Apparently, that devastated the emperor, and he got even more sick.”

All at once, the color drained from her face. “A … a wedding?”

“Yes, a grand one.” She crinkled her nose. “Can you believe that? They were throwing a grandiose fucking wedding while we’re in the middle of awar. There were celebrations forweeks. It makes me sick to my stomach. Here we are dying for our empire, while the emperor is out throwing a fuckingweddingof all things for his daughter. Like, I understand he needs an heir, and it’s not like people stop living their lives when things get tough—I mean, hey, look at you, you got married in the thick of war too, right? But let’s be reasonable here. Why throw a lavish wedding while everyone in the empire is suffering? Just shows you how out of touch he is with reality. How much of a slap it is to the face of everyone here who lost their homes, are starving, or have lost their loved ones to this war.”

Zhi Ruo was barely listening to her, her nausea returning full force. Father was throwing a wedding for Ying Yue? All while she had been imprisoned. Did he even … care? She had always suspected that Father truly hated her, abhorred her presence, wished she was never born. But, a small part of her had hoped that it wasn’t true. That maybe he was just cold and stoic, but that he had a sliver of love for her that was buried deep in his love for Ying Yue.

She blinked away the stinging in her eyes. “Ah, that … that sounds just like him.”

“I know what you mean.” The woman sighed, long and hard.

Her head swam. Ying Yue was missing? She had no doubt in her mind that she had likely grown tired of all the wedding festivities and decided to lay low and hide in her mother’s estates, or maybe she was looking for a reason for everyone to pay more attention to her. She highly, highly doubted Ying Yue had gotten kidnapped and imprisoned like Zhi Ruo.

“Do you mind if I go to sleep?” she asked suddenly, no longer in the mood to pretend that everything was okay. Or that herheart wasn’t broken. She pointed to the bed. “I’m honestly just … exhausted.”

“Oh, right. Right.” Lanying clambered to her feet, dusting off her pants. She grinned down at her and scooped up the empty bowl. “I’ll take that away. You just focus on recovering, all right? Sleep well.” And with a wink, she scurried off.

Zhi Ruo didn’t wait another second before crawling over to the fur blankets and slipping underneath them. She pulled them to her chin and curled into a tight ball, a shuddered breath releasing from her body. And like that, she began trembling. The sobs she expected didn’t come; instead, a numbing, deep-seated exhaustion won over her sadness.

Her mind whirled with thoughts of Feng Mian and how he had betrayed her. Their conversations played in her mind, playing tricks on her, making her feel crazy the more she tried to analyze. But all too soon, her eyelids grew heavy, and she fell into a dreamless slumber.

21

Zhi Ruo awoketo the sound of someone shuffling inside her tent. Her eyes instantly flew open, her mind racing as she thought about Chanming wrapping his fingers around her throat and choking her. He must have known who she was. He must have been here to finish the job.

She jerked upright in bed, squinting into the dark, only to find Feng Mian shrugging off a cloak in the corner. He was dressed differently than before; she could tell that much even in the dim lighting. Gone were his filthy, bloodied clothes and in their place was a clean uniform, armor, and a cloak made from some sort of animal. He hissed in pain as he eased the armor off his injured shoulder, the metal clanking onto the ground.

He didn’t seem to notice her immediately, though he must have known she was right there. He had to. He could sense her, but maybe he didn’t realize she was awake. She felt awkward while watching him, a surge of sadness and anger overcoming her. She didn’t know if she wanted to go over and help him, or if she wanted to shake him and scream.

Even in the dead of night, she could make out the swirls of the curse along his neck and hands. The coldness swept over her suddenly and she shivered, pulling the covers up her bodyfurther. The hot coals had cooled off, and the air had grown dry and frigid. There was only one bed, and she was currently in it. Was he planning on sleeping next to her?

“Are you going to keep staring?” His voice sounded loud in the quiet and she flinched.

A scowl was already forming. “Why would you think I’m staring? You’re blind.”

“I don’t need to see to know you’re glaring at me.”

He sounded too casual and unlike the apologetic version she had hoped she would witness. He was supposed to beg for her forgiveness, make her feel like she had been wrong to assume he was terrible, and he was supposed to be petrified at the thought of losing her. But maybe it was naïve of her to secretly hope for that. Maybe it was best for her to stew in rage and hostility. To let it override her sadness at the whole situation.

Zhi Ruo tried to make her voice sound acrimonious, but it came out wobbly nonetheless. “What are you even doing here?”

He kneeled and began untying his boots. “Because,” he said, voice tight, “this ismytent.”

“Yourtent?” She clenched the blanket tighter. “Why do you have a tent?”

He kicked off his boots and trudged over to her. “Because, Prin—” He sighed, paused, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Zhi. Your name isZhi. Couldn’t you have chosen something less conspicuous?”

“You have no right to say that to me,” she snapped. “Not after you threw all of this on me.”

He seemed to ignore that and continued, waving his hand at the tented ceiling and walls. “This tent is mine because, even though I’m a disappointment to my father, I still am theheirof the Zheng family, and I am fairly high-ranked within Chanming’s army.”

Technically, she should have been the highest ranking official here, but she didn’t say it. He must have been thinking it, though, because he lowered himself near the bed, his fingers skimming over the blankets. “You might be a royal,” he said, low and rough so only she could hear. “But here, you are simply my wife.”

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