Page 80 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“Can I … take care of him?”

He didn’t seem to like the sound of that. “I don’t mind if you stray close to my pet, but don’t forget that he ismine. You have stolen one of my lethal, loyalbeasts—” He jabbed an elbow at Feng Mian’s ribs, as if he was jesting, but there was a steely edge to his voice. “I won’t allow you to do the same with my dragon.”

She didn’t laugh. “He is a child?—”

“That’s enough.” He waved her to the exit of the tent. “I don’t wish to talk to you about morals or whatnot. Both of you, see yourselves out. Be grateful that I’m not punishing you for what you did out there.”

Feng Mian lowered his head. “Thank you.”

She wanted to reach over and slap Chanming, and then maybe Feng Mian too, but she instead jerkily bobbed her headin respect, and followed behind her husband as they left the tent. When the cool outside air hit her face, and they were several feet away from the tent, she turned sharply to Feng Mian.

“You didn’t tell me that you were planning on?—”

“Not now.” He jerked his head toward the line of tents. “Go inside. I need to talk to Chanming.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the fight left her body when she stared at his grim expression. She gritted her teeth together. They were in trouble, she could tell that much. Chanming didn’t believe their stupid tale about finding each other in the Kadian camp. And he certainly didn’t think she was an ordinary woman.

Feng Mian’s voice dropped to a whisper. It almost disappeared within the folds of conversations fluttering all around them. “Contrary to what he’s saying, hewillfind out about you. He will stop at nothing to find out who you are. If for nothing more than to satiate his curiosity. We need to get you out of here, and fast.”

“Feng Mian …”

A throbbing headache was creeping in the back of her mind.

“I will talk to you soon.” He feathered a kiss on top of her head, his eyes softening. “Wait for me in the tent. Let’s eat together.”

She could only nod her head—out of habit—before saying softly. “All right. I will wait for you.”

25

The dragon-child,whose name she hadn’t decided on, ate exactly as was expected of a dragon. Zhi Ruo had handed him a basket of chicken carcasses, with blood still dripping through the slates in the bamboo, and he scarfed them down ravenously, his sharp teeth tearing through muscle, ligaments, and tendons easily. Blood dribbled down his mouth and he occasionally plucked out the feathers from between his teeth or spat the bones on the floor.

She sat a few feet away from him in barren tent. He was chained to the center pole that kept the ceiling upright. It had been four days since he had attacked Lanying, and Chanming was keeping him locked inside here as punishment. During that time, he hadn’t exactly warmed up to her, but he allowed her near enough that she could hand him his food. He never allowed her to touch him, though, and would hiss if she tried to place a hand on his head.

During the past few days, she made sure to steer clear from Chanming, her anxiety pulled taut at the prospect of him discovering her identity. When she was here with the dragon, though, she was able to distract herself from ominous thoughts. Like what Father would do once he found out about her usingmagic, or that she had married without his consent, or that she was with Li Chanming, the traitor. Her future was so murky, and even though she wasn’t a prisoner anymore, she still felt like she was.

The dragon-child spat out a cleaned wing bone onto the ground, where it joined the pile. He licked his claws, staring at her with red serpent-like eyes.

“You’re always so hungry,” she noted.

His tongue flicked over the blood spotting his forearms. He was still dressed in his thin, tattered, blood-stiffened clothes.

“I heard that there were others who were kind to you.” She tilted her head to the side so she could better see his face in the dimly lit room. He didn’t show a flash of emotion; he only watched her. “But that you bit their hands instead. Why are you allowing me to be near you, then?”

She waited for him to answer, but he didn’t. A sigh escaped her mouth. Maybe this was a stupid idea after all. It wasn’t like he actually understood her, and he likely didn’t know the language, either. She was wasting her time with all these questions, but she couldn’t help herself. She hoped he would talk back to her at some point, but that was likely wishful thinking.

“Drakkon,” she murmured.

The dragon-child lifted his head.

“So, youdorespond to that.” A playful grin stretched her lips. “Do you understand me?”

He only stared.

She sighed again. “Maybe not.”

His sharp ears twitched and he stared at the entrance of the tent, a low growl reverberating from his throat. Zhi Ruo turned to find Feng Mian pulling back the flap to enter. A wintry blast followed in his wake, dusting the room in a thin blanket of frost.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He brushed off the snow clinging to his shoulders. His cheeks were red from thecold and she wondered how long he had wandered until he had found her.

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