Page 8 of Dynasty of the Wicked

She screamed, tugging away from him, but his bony fingers pierced into her flesh and held her tight. Another arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her against the cold bars with bone-thin arms. She banged her limbs and her head back, and continued thrashing as the old man gripped her waist and hips, his nose buried into the crook of her shoulder.

Finally, she scratched his hand and arms as hard as she could, drawing blood, and he released her. She lunged forward and fell on her knees, where she quickly crawled to the opposite side of the cell, as far away from the old man as she could. Her back smacked into the wall and she couldn’t stop from heaving.

The old man hissed in pain, licking his wounds. A twisted, angry expression marred his wrinkled face. “I only wanted a taste.”

“Stay the hell away from me,” she breathed and then turned to the man in the corner of the cell. She narrowed her eyes to stare at his silhouette, but she could barely make it out. “And you too.”

“Ignore the crazy old man. He’s a traitor to our empire,” the man in the corner said roughly, his tone hardening. “Keep as far away from him as you can.”

“Noted.” She rubbed the spot on her bicep the old man had clenched and gritted her teeth together to keep from hissing in pain. She bruised easily, so she was sure she’d have purple shadows in the shape of his fingers on her tomorrow.

Her wrists and ankles throbbed, and it was then that she noticed the skin was red and peeled raw. Her hideous yellow dress with lime-green rabbits etched onto the sleeves and the hem of the skirt looked even uglier with splatters of crusted blood and dried mud adorning it.

“I am no traitor,” the old man hissed. He grumbled a few curse words and disappeared deeper into his own cell.

Zhi Ruo couldn’t breathe a sigh in relief to be free from the old man’s lecherous gaze, not when there was another strangerinher cell. At least this one didn’t sound as … terrible.

“Where am I?” she finally asked, hoping he at least held some answers for her.

“In a Kadian prison.”

She gasped, vaguely remembering one of her captors mentioning something about Kadios, the enemy kingdom neighboring the Huo Empire.

“You were sold here,” he supplied when she didn’t say anything.

“How long has it been?”

“Since you were dumped here?” She was sure the man shrugged, by the rustling in the corner. “Maybe an hour.”

Zhi Ruo chewed on her trembling lower lip to keep from bursting into tears or hyperventilating. She was imprisoned by Kadios. Why would they take her? As a political prisoner? The Huo Empire and Kadios were currently at war with one another, with Kadios wanting to encroach on their land and steal theirresources, since their own land was so barren and fruitless. But she had thought, a bit foolishly, that the war was centralized on the border and that it couldn’t spread deep enough to the capital.

“They attempted to kill my father.” Her eyebrows pulled together as she remembered that night. The blood. The swords. The screaming. She squeezed her eyes shut to rid herself of the memory of the nameless concubine’s head rolling by her feet, of her brother Wanqing collapsing onto the floor with a dagger stuck in his forehead. “They?—”

She also tried, and failed, to forget the sting and pang in her chest when the guards had rushed over to protect Ying Yue. Her stomach twisted and she felt nauseous all over again.

“Which princess are you? There are two, aren’t there?”

“Princess Zhi Ruo,” she answered, but then hesitated. Would it be better to pretend to be Ying Yue? But it was too late, her name had already slipped past her lips.

“Oh.Oh.” She could hear the disappointment in his voice and her chest tightened again.

“Is that a problem?”

“You’re the wicked princess.” It wasn’t a question. And with another sigh of disappointment, he continued, “Well … this is unfortunate.”

It felt like a slap to the face. She reeled back, pressing against the wall stiffly, as if that could put as much distance between herself and her cellmate. She closed her eyes tightly. She didn’t have time to worry about any of this. She was a captive here, and it didn’t matter that this wretched man thought lowly of her. All she had to do was bide her time until Father sent his men to rescue her.

But even as she told herself that it was best not to engage with this stranger, she found herself asking through gritted teeth, “And why, exactly, is that unfortunate for you?”

“Because—”

The sound of boot steps down the hallway stopped both of them. Zhi Ruo braced herself against the wall, her wide-eyed stare trained on the dimly lit corridor. The small, orangey flame dancing in the sconce a dozen feet away from their cell shifted as a man hurried down. A soldier with combed golden-brown hair, arctic blue eyes, and a scar splitting his lip at the corner to give him a permanent smirk peered down at her. She realized immediately that he was Kadian.

The soldier inched closer to the cell, one hand curling over the bar. “You. Princess. Up.”

He spoke crude Huo, his accent so thick she almost didn’t understand him.

Zhi Ruo remained huddled against the wall. She didn’t want to go anywhere with the man. He was a soldier, she could tell that much, judging by his dusty tunic, the sword strapped to his waist, and the Kadian symbol—a lion and rose—stamped on his breast pocket. Was he going to take her somewhere and torture her? Or worse—would he strip her of her dignity, in more ways than one?

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