Page 66 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“So you would choose me?” She didn’t let hope swell in her heart, because he was silent, and she expected him to be. She blinked back her stinging eyes, sucking in sharply. Of course she wouldn’t be his priority. She was never anyone’s priority. She was always on the bottom of everyone’s list or, if she was lucky, second to last.

He called out her name softly, but she wasn’t hearing any of it, her sobs growing loud and ugly. She hugged her knees to her chest, her shoulders wracking back and forth, her tears streaming down her cheeks and dotting her skirt.

All she had ever wanted was love, but even that was too much to ask for.

“Zhi Ruo.” He touched her shoulder.

She slapped his hand away, raising her head to snarl, “Don’t touch me! I hate you! I hate you so much!”

Feng Mian grimaced. If he expected her to be lovey dovey, pathetic enough to forgive him and be happy so long as he was here—he was wrong, then. She wanted to love, but she wanted to be loved back. She wanted someone to love her more than anything else. She wanted …more.

He was her enemy.

And she hated that she was deeply in love with him.

To the point that it would destroy her, she was sure.

She felt ruined in that moment. Ruined, and pathetic, and so very unfortunate. She could see why Chanming had laughed at the idea of Feng Mian being married to her.

She didn’t know how long she wept like that, ugly and strangled, her heart cracking further and further, splintering until she was sure the shards were disintegrating to the point that no one could put it back together. It was only then that her tears dried up and she lost the energy to keep sobbing. She stared at one of the tent walls, her shoulders dropping. She felt numb to her core.

Feng Mian inched closer to her, as if he was nervous that she would strike him again, but she didn’t. He came to sit beside her, a tentative hand pressing onto the small of her back. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said.

“Liar.” It came out hoarse.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Not now, not ever.” He stroked her hair gently, and she wished it was enough to make the pain go away, but it only continued to yawn and grow. “You have to believe me.”

Trust him? She would have laughed in his face if she wasn’t so tired. How could she trust him after knowing that they were enemies? That his leader had orchestrated her assassination? And that he still followed that leader despite that?

“Why do you follow Chanming?” She didn’t look at him, only continued to stare at a stain on in the cloth wall.

He hesitated. “He … He is my best friend. I have known him for more than half my life.”

“And he has been conspiring for the throne since then?”

“Yes. Your father never claimed him as his own, and that … ate away at him. Knowing that he was a prince, and yet never being able to take on that title. Never being able to give his mother more than a status of being …” He shrugged. “A loose woman.”

“A loose woman who eventually married a noble, and was able to gift him these lands by the border,” she said emotionlessly. That woman knew what she was doing. She wanted her son to climb the ranks. To take the throne. She had probably instilled it in him since he was a young child. Whispered to him that he was the emperor’s child and that he deserved the throne. It was the same with all the other women the emperor had slept with. Maybe even her own mother was like that, had she lived long enough to poison Zhi Ruo’s mind with notions of power.

She was suddenly exhausted and no longer in the mood to argue.

“I hate you.” The words came out so softly she almost thought she imagined it, but the way he stiffened told her that he had heard.

She loved him, but she hated him at the same time.

She hated what he did to her. How he made her feel. How much of her heart he had shattered.

She wished she could hurt him like he had hurt her, but she didn’t have that kind of power over him or his heart. The back of her eyes stung and a bitterness coated the inside of her mouth. He didn’t even love her.

He. Didn’t. Even. Love. Her.

It was tragic, really, to be in love with someone who didn’t love her back, who’d married her and slept with her and kissed her, but didn’t hold her in his heart. Whose heart belonged to no one. Who would rather continue his cause that would end her than side with her.

His hand on her back burned. She wanted to push him away, but she also wanted him to stay. She wanted him to tell her that she was wrong.

“Zhi Ruo.” He stroked her hair gently, tucking it behind her ears slowly, his fingers dragging over her skin. Over her damp cheeks. “I will never let anyone hurt you.”

She finally turned to him. His silver eyes looked sad, and his body was stiff, like he was scared to uncoil himself around her, like he didn’t want to be vulnerable. Or maybe he was just uncomfortable being there. Witnessing her heartbreak. She didn’t know, because she didn’t really know him.

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