Page 89 of Dynasty of the Wicked

“Feng Mian—” Zhi Ruo began.

He drew his sword and glanced over in her direction, his silver hair billowing with the wintry winds and her own swelling magic.

“No!” Wyer shouted, ripping at the shadows wrapping over his limbs. His fingernails scoured deep into his skin, creating bloody gashes as he tried to rid himself of her darkness. “I came back from death for this! I am meant to conquer these lands! I am meant for greatness! I am not … I am not simply apeasant.” There was such vitriol in his voice, such arrogance, that it disgusted her.

“You are nothing more than scum,” Feng Mian snarled, leveling the blade at Wyer’s throat. “Your biggest mistake, stemming from your arrogance, was disrespecting my wife and thinking she is nothing more than a princess of this empire. She is much more than that, Wyer.Sheis truly meant for greatness, not someone as arrogant, thieving, and repulsive as you.”

In one fell swoop, he slid the sword over Wyer’s throat. Zhi Ruo watched as Wyer’s head rolled off his body, his pale eyes wide in horror and disbelief—like he truly couldn’t believe that he would ever be defeated. All at once, her shadows ripped at theremaining parts of his body. Without his resistance, the magic tore him to shreds in seconds, rendering him into thin ribbons that splashed over the snow in thick splatters.

With its target gone, her whirlwind of magic eased and disappeared altogether. She released a shuddered breath, all the energy leaving her body. Feng Mian rushed to her immediately, as if he knew she would collapse at any second. He grabbed her waist with one arm and she leaned into him, her body quaking.

“He’s dead,” she said with a sigh.

“The fight isn’t over.”

Zhi Ruo lifted her head to stare at their camp. He was right. Even though Wyer was dead, the Kadians and half-ghouls were still fighting just as relentlessly as before. Her heart sank; she had, rather foolishly, hoped that killing him would render them useless. That they would suddenly lose purpose.

“Stay close to me and let me take care of it,” he continued, his hold on her tightening. “I don’t want to lose you, and I know you’re at your limit.”

“I can still fight—” Her words were swallowed away by her sharp inhale. Feng Mian’s curse had spread up to his cheeks and thin, spidery veins covered his eyelid and stretched toward his forehead. “No.”

He smiled slowly, sadly. “It’s all right. We’ll be fine.”

“No,no.” Zhi Ruo gripped the front of his armor, her chest rising and falling. Everything else drowned away as those ugly, raised black veins overtook her vision. The curse had spread too much; how much more magic did he have left in him before it completely consumed him? If she had to guess, maybe one or two attacks left. “Feng Mian, you can’t?—”

“We have to fight.” He grasped her cheek with one hand, his silver eyes softening. “I will protect you.Always.”

“No!” Her fingers clumsily spread over his. “Teach me how to absorb the curse like you did with me. Teach me!”

“No.” He gently pried her hands off his. “I could never do such a thing.”

“I can’t lose you,” she begged. “Please, Feng Mian?—”

“We don’t have time.” As if on cue, he raised a barrier as a half-ghoul flew above them and crashed into the shied. It screeched loudly, clawing at the magic, just as Feng Mian shoved it away with a beam of white light.

A strangled sob escaped her mouth and she squeezed her hands over his. The half-ghouls and Kadians were becoming more frenzied, as if killing their leader had prompted them to attack even more fiercely, and it only made her heart break—because it meant that Feng Mian would fight them to the end.

She couldn’t let that happen.

She would have to take them all on, she decided as she turned to her enemies.

She would rather dirty her own hands, have her own curse spread and corrupt her body, than lose Feng Mian.

An explosion behind them caught their attention and they both whirled around. Zhi Ruo could feel the pull of her dark magic in the pit of her stomach; her body ached and groaned, but her determination was steely. She raised her hands as bright, bluish light burst from the ground and slashed the Kadians in half. She blinked as Chanming shoved his way through the thickening half-ghouls. He wielded a sword made of blue light, appearing like glistening water as he hacked away at their enemies with ease. Blood caked half of his face, and there was a feral, lethal look about him.

“Feng Mian!” Chanming dug his sword into the chest of one of the half-ghouls, planted his foot on the writhing soldier’s chest, and yanked it out in one fluid motion. “Reinforcements are coming! Stay your ground and don’t use your cursed magic!”

When his eyes connected with hers, they widened, and a jolt of panic ran through her body in a split second. Her royalmark was visible since Wyer had ripped her sleeve. She quickly covered it with one hand, but it was too late. He had seen it.

Chanming ripped his gaze away from her and violently severed the head of a Kadian soldier. Her breath caught in her throat.

He knew.

Feng Mian cut down a half-ghoul Kadian that drew close to them, his sword cleaving the man’s dented armor. Zhi Ruo willed her magic forward, but her body trembled weakly and the edges of her vision darkened. She blinked away the fatigue, stumbling forward.

No. Not now.

She had to fight. She had to protect Feng Mian.

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