Immortal

28

Sunlight glided across my eyelids, stirring me. How long had I slept? A blurred silhouette appeared, gradually splitting into two. The Ancient Grandmaster . . . and Zhangwei. Relief surged at the sight of him—here, unharmed. My palms pressed the soft grass to push myself up, as I cleared my throat to call out to him—

“I am in your debt.”

Zhangwei’s words startled me as he bowed to the Ancient Grandmaster. “Thank you.”

Instinctively, I stilled, pressing my eyes shut.

“Lord Zhangwei, there is no debt. I did not do this for you or Her Majesty; I did it for her.”

The Ancient Grandmaster’s tone was formal.

“Does she know?”

Zhangwei asked, his voice tense.

“She knows of the tree’s blessing,”

the Ancient Grandmaster replied.

“Can she stay here, where it’s safe?”

he asked. “I have to break the enchantment over the skies; I must return to get aid.”

“Both of you can remain here one night, but no more,”

the Ancient Grandmaster said sternly. “The Wuxin are searching Kunlun. I won’t risk them being drawn here to find the Tree of Everlasting Life.”

Zhangwei sighed. “I understand. Nevertheless, I am grateful. What was done—it was what I hoped for.”

Something jarred, my gut twisting. It was becoming harder to feign sleep when I wanted to shake Zhangwei, to demand the truth. He had told me we’d be safe here, that the Ancient Grandmaster could help us send word to Queen Caihong. Were we here for another reason—one he’d chosen to keep from me? His secrets teetered on the brink of lies.

I kept my breathing steady, my eyes closed to maintain the pretense. It grated, hearing them speak of me this way, but I needed to learn more.

A brief pause. “Ancient Grandmaster, could you remove it?”

Zhangwei asked. “It isn’t part of her.”

My heart plunged, my mind clouding with suspicion. Zhangwei meant the Divine Pearl Lotus—what else could it be? Was this another scheme to seize it? Part of me flinched from this thought. After everything we’d been through, he couldn’t be this devious, nor was I so stupid as to be tricked by more lies. I should believe better of us both. But what if he no longer trusted that I’d keep my word? After all, he’d asked me twice to give him the lotus, and I’d refused.

“That is her decision.”

The Ancient Grandmaster spoke before my patience snapped, before I could demand an answer. “Neither you nor I, nor anyone in the realms, can decide this for her.”

“It is what’s best for her,”

Zhangwei said fiercely. “If there’s a price, I will pay it.”

An eerie whistling glided through the clearing, the air seeming to constrict as I found myself holding my breath.

“My honor has no price.”

A stern rebuke from the Ancient Grandmaster, a taut silence settling between him and the God of War.

Some of my tension uncoiled, even as my mind worked frantically. What was Zhangwei planning? He claimed to be an ally, yet had not shared this part of his scheme. How dare he decide what was “best”

for me? How dare he keep me in the dark, a pawn to his whim?

No more lies and secrets, I’d demanded of him. As least he’d been honest when he’d replied: No more lies.

A bitterness lingered. After he’d defended us against the Wuxin, our kiss by the river, everything he’d said and done since—he’d almost made me believe in him again. If all this had been false, the Wuxin were more honorable than him.

Footsteps tread closer. Zhangwei was crouching down beside me, my senses attuned to him though my eyes were still closed. As he lifted me in his arms, I resisted the urge to push him away. He carried me with great care through the winding corridor, my body stiffening whenever it jolted against his.

I hated this uncertainty, just when I’d thought we could finally trust each other. And I hated that I didn’t know what to do; whether to confront him or conceal what I’d heard.

It was a long way back to the Ancient Grandmaster’s home, or at least it felt that way. Once, Zhangwei stumbled, his hold tightening protectively around me. I stirred, intending to end the farce—but the Ancient Grandmaster’s voice rang out.

“You may both share the chamber in this courtyard.”

No.

“Ancient Grandmaster, separate rooms would be preferred. Otherwise, I will remain outside,”

Zhangwei said without hesitation.

My jaw clenched, my hands curling. I didn’t want to share a room with him—but irrationally now, I was annoyed that he didn’t want that either.

“As you wish, Lord Zhangwei.”

The Ancient Grandmaster sounded amused. “Take the chamber beside hers.”

Zhangwei carried me into a room, the lamps flickering to life as we entered. Without warning, he dropped me unceremoniously upon a bed, my skirt tangling between my legs.

I sat up, glaring at him. “How dare you.”

Zhangwei leaned against the bed frame. “If you wanted to be carried, you could have just asked.”

“I want nothing less,”

I hissed—though it defied what I’d just done. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

His eyelids lowered, a corner of his mouth curving. “Shall we put that to the test?”

“No.”

I meant it. I wanted him, but every time I drew too close, I ended up burned. Fire was his Talent, after all.

I looked away from him, examining the room. It was simply furnished, the bed crafted of light-colored wood, the coverings softer than any I’d lain on. A set of robes was folded and left on the bamboo table, though the shelves were bare.

“Were you hurt getting here?” he asked.

Such concern . . . was it real? I shook my head. “What about you? How did you get away from the Wuxin?”

His voice thickened with suppressed fury. “Their plan was to separate us, to capture you.”

“Do they know about the lotus?” I asked.

“It’s likely,”

he replied tersely. “After the fight, I searched for you in the pavilion—all around the lake. You had gone, no trace of you left. Fortunately, I knew you weren’t with the Wuxin because they’d been looking for you too—at least until I found them.”

As his eyes glittered dangerously, I asked, “Did you kill them?”

“Those who hurt you, are my enemies too.”

The darkness of his tone sent a chill through me. “Some escaped, as did their captain—the one I most wanted.”

He added, “I knew you could swim, that you’d jumped into the lake, though I was worried you couldn’t find your way here.”

“I had little choice; they cornered me in the pavilion.”

Quickly, I told him about the boy, the beast who’d attacked us, the Ancient Grandmaster’s disguise.

“I heard the Ancient Grandmaster tested the few mortals who reached his shores,” he said.

“What of those who failed?” I asked.

“No one knows.”

My throat tightened. Even though the Ancient Grandmaster had been kind to me, there was another side to him—the ruthless deity alongside the benevolent, childlike god. Yet mortals were not objects to be judged; we were more than a single choice. We deserved to be weighed for the sum of our deeds, rather than one plucked from a moment of urgency. Immortals could never understand the despair the threat of death roused in us, how much we wanted to live, to delay the inevitable end. To ourselves, we were everything—and yet our inevitable fate was to become nothing.

“Where do we go now?”

I asked, breaking the silence.

“We can’t stay,”

he told me. “The Ancient Grandmaster won’t risk the Wuxin following our trail here. But he will send word to Queen Caihong. She’ll find a way to break the spell over the skies. We just need to keep hidden until then.”

“What of Tianxia?”

“The barrier I crafted is undisturbed.”

His gaze was penetrating. “I remember all my promises to you. Just as I hope you remember yours to me.”

A reminder of what I owed him. I nodded slowly. There was a new urgency to return what I had taken if I could, to be free of these powerful beings and their deadly games. Soon, I told myself. Then I’d never see him again—the thought a stone in my chest.

He was staring at my robe, streaked with blood from where he’d carried me. Only then did I notice the gash across his palm, though the wound on his shoulder appeared healed. Plucking a handkerchief from the pile of garments on the table, I took his hand and wrapped the silk around the cut. He did not pull away, his large hand cradled between both of mine. As I bound his wound, blood seeped through the cloth.

“Is this what the mortals do?” he asked.

“We don’t have your advantages.”

I released his hand, suddenly feeling foolish. “You could have just healed yourself.”

“I like this more.”

A small smile played on his lips as he inspected my clumsy bandage. “Why did you do this for me?”

“I don’t like to see you bleed,”

I said at last.

He was studying me; did he sense a difference in my manner? Trust was not easily yielded, and even harder to restore. But I didn’t want to just question him in my mind, to imagine the worst—I wanted to know, and for him to tell me.

“I heard you speaking with the Ancient Grandmaster,”

I began. “I heard what you asked. Was it about the Divine Pearl Lotus?”

He shook his head. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me. Don’t give me a reason to doubt.”

The corners of his mouth tightened like he was suppressing his words, or choosing them carefully. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

I demanded. “Because you think I won’t understand? Or because you’re afraid I won’t agree? Either way, how can I trust you?”

He took my hands, holding them between his . . . and I was so weak, I didn’t pull away. “I swear on my life, you can trust me with yours—I will guard it better than my own. I will keep all my promises to you: those from yesterday, today, and those to come. One day, I will tell you anything you wish. But the time is not now.”

He spoke quietly, sincerely, yet these words left me cold. I wanted to trust him; I wanted what we had to be real, but I couldn’t let my desires color the truth. Somehow, I had to uncover what lay in his heart. And if I was wrong this time, if he betrayed me—he would learn that I could be every bit as heartless as him. I’d walk away and never look back, even if it broke my heart.

Even if it killed him.