Immortal

30

We must go.”

I grabbed Zhangwei’s arm, tugging at him, but he pulled my hand away gently.

“They are too close; I’ll draw them to me.”

His magic continued to spill forth in a glittering stream, as he dipped his head to mine. “You have to go now. Think of Tianxia. If they find you, if they open the gateway—your people will be the first to fall.”

My chest squeezed like a fist was wrapped around it. He was ruthless to make this argument, the only thing that could make me leave him. As Zhangwei drew his sword, a tremor ran through his hand that was abruptly stilled. How hard he fought to hide these symptoms; how long had he been suffering? How could he keep up this pretense against a pitiless foe?

Taking my silence as acceptance, Zhangwei handed the reins of my horse to me. “Head south; I’ll lead them further up north. Your soldiers shouldn’t be far—those your First Advisor sent—find them if you can.”

He looked away like he didn’t want to see me leave. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

Something splintered in my heart. He was going to sacrifice himself . . . he was going to die.

“Not today,”

I whispered.

His brow creased. “What do you mean?”

My gaze slid to his. “You will not die today.”

I pulled out my dagger, the scar throbbing at my chest, a heat building within as though it sensed what I was about to do—like it was craving this too. I silenced the last whispers of doubt in my mind, of unfulfilled promises and unpaid debts. I was done weighing the stakes; I would give him what he wanted of me.

It was the only way we’d all have a chance. Right now, the God of War was the only one who could protect Tianxia. With the Divine Pearl Lotus, he could hold the Wuxin back until the skies were opened once more. But beyond the safety of my kingdom, beyond any debt or obligation—the simple, shattering truth was, I wanted him to live.

I clutched the hilt of my dagger, pressing its tip against my chest. He’d spoken once of opening a connection with it. This time, no token was needed because it was me wielding the blade. This time, it would work; the Divine Pearl Lotus would be his . . . gifted of a willing heart.

“Wait.”

His hand closed around mine, halting me. “Are you sure?”

How different from the first time, when he’d sought to seize it from me. Back then, if he’d succeeded, I would have cursed him and hated him forever. Had he changed? Had I? Maybe nothing remained the same, even in the realm of immortals.

“I want this,”

I said clearly.

He looked at me searchingly, not letting go. “Do you know what could happen? You won’t die, but you won’t be as strong as you are now—”

A sliver of cold speared me, but I’d known this already. A price I would gladly pay to save us both. “I know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He spoke intently, his voice ringed with a clear resonance.

I thought of the way his face filled my mind, how his words slid into my heart, of the heat he stirred so effortlessly inside me . . . and how I yearned for him, even when I should hate.

“Because I’m a fool.”

His eyes blazed like fire and moonlight. “Then I am one too, since the day we met.”

I caught his hand with my other, wrapping his fingers across the hilt, pressing down until the dagger pierced my chest. A sharp sting, blood trickling from the wound.

Silence thickened, my breathing growing harsher. Even now, fear and doubt still gripped me. “Remember your promise,”

I told him fiercely.

His other hand touched my cheek, tilting my face to his. “I remember all my promises to you.”

“Then take it from me. I . . . don’t know what to do.”

“Say it,”

he whispered, leaning closer until his breath curled into my ear. “Mean it.”

“I give this to you of a willing heart.”

My chest ached, something struggling inside—then giving way like part of me was coming undone, a bond unmade. The Divine Pearl Lotus was detaching itself from me because I’d yielded it. Because I loved him . . . even if he didn’t love me back. Even if he never knew it.

Light flared along the dagger, coursing over the hilt—the glittering flecks of the lotus scattering like starlight, arching away from me, toward him. The warmth in my chest subsided, leaving a hollow that gaped a little wider with each breath. My teeth sank into my tongue, the salt of blood spilling into my mouth. I slumped, fighting to keep standing, like the strength had fled my limbs.

Zhangwei’s arm swept across my waist to steady me, our hands clasped around the dagger that was still pressed to my chest. His touch was warmer now, no longer glazed with the chill that had become so familiar to me. I smiled with relief, though I was afraid to move, to do anything that might break the spell.

The god’s eyes closed, such radiance gliding over him—as though he was bathed in that golden hour of sunlight that gilds the mundane with rare beauty. Something stirred within me, an intimate awareness of our joined hands, a fleeting glimpse into him like a window thrown open—the scorching intensity of his emotions, the fire and passion that raged through him unabated. Just as suddenly, this awareness closed. A heat steadily built, his touch warming me as I’d once warmed him, forging something new between us: fragile and precious, chaotic and untamed. We stood a foot apart, yet I’d never felt closer to another . . . like we were one.

It was done; he was safe. I closed my eyes briefly, the tumult inside me calming. There was a void within where the Divine Pearl Lotus had once pulsed. Already, I missed it. Yet a profound peace slid into place, the weightlessness of a burden relieved. It had worked; he would be safe. The symptoms I’d suffered from the waters of death didn’t return, though I felt drained—an echo of that familiar heaviness in my limbs, the one that had plagued me in my childhood, though neither as deep nor consuming as before. Yet now if I ran from the Wuxin . . . they would catch me.

As I pulled the dagger out, my blood trailed from its tip, sliding down to fall into the earth. Zhangwei collapsed to the ground, eyes wide, his body unmoving. Did he feel as I had when I’d consumed the lotus, unable to move or speak as it bonded with me? I prayed this would pass, that the toll on an immortal body would be easier than on a mortal’s—it was far too dangerous here. Though his magic no longer spilled free, his aura blazed, the force of his presence strengthening.

I bent, touching his cheek. “How do you feel?”

He didn’t reply, his eyes fixed upon me, startlingly bright. His mouth twitched like he was trying to tell me something.

I grasped his hand. “This won’t last long; you’ll be well soon.”

The wind was glazed with a bitter chill, frost blooming across the ground like mold. My instincts recoiled, dread sinking over me.

They were here.

Terror spiked, needle-sharp and cold. If they found Zhangwei, defenseless, they’d kill him; they’d seize the lotus. I grabbed him under his arms, struggling beneath his weight. Panic yielded a burst of strength as I dragged him a short way to a thick grove of bushes—my breathing ragged with fear.

“Don’t make a sound. I’ll lead them away.”

The words clogged my throat. He was always telling me to run, and now I was protecting him.

His eyes widened, the veins in his arm bulging as he strained. He didn’t want me to go. I placed my hand over his, relieved at its warmth. “You must wait until the lotus has merged with you. Don’t fight it, don’t let this all be for nothing.”

I searched his face, wanting to remember every feature. “If I stay, we’re both dead anyway.”

I pushed myself to my feet, forcing myself to leave. I wasn’t trying to be a hero; I just wanted to give us a chance, to lead the Wuxin away until he recovered. They would follow my trail, believing I had the power they sought. Once they learned I didn’t, I’d pay a heavy price—but Zhangwei would come for me. I only hoped it wouldn’t take too long for him to recover.

I sprinted along the river, away from him, the wind tearing through my hair. The Wuxin were close, but I didn’t let myself turn, afraid to waste a single moment. I was already tiring, my chest clenched tight. Yanking off my outer robe, I thrust a fistful of stones into its folds, then hurled the bundle into the river. Silk arced through the air, plunging into the waters, scattering the reflected moonlight. A decoy to draw my pursuers away.

Footsteps padded; branches creaked. Several shadowy forms rushed toward the river. As they searched the waters, some diving into the depths, I backed away quietly, only turning to flee once I was out of sight.

I ran in a winding path, hoping to confuse anyone on my trail. Already my pace was slowing, exhaustion creeping over me. If only Zhangwei were here, or my soldiers. They might be close, as he’d said . . . and if so, I had to warn them of the Wuxin.

Deeper in the forest I stopped to catch my breath, leaning against a tree as I fought the urge to retch. My mind urged me onward. In the dark, the trees seemed to close tighter around me, ominous and oppressive.

“Liyen!”

It was Chengyin’s voice. He dashed from the trees ahead, his eyes going wide at the sight of me. His dark-red robe was torn and stained, like he’d come in a rush. “You’re safe. I was so worried.”

I could have wept with relief, even as my pulse stuttered unevenly. “What are you doing here, Chengyin? Weren’t you meant to stay at court? Is there trouble at home?”

I kept my voice hushed as I glanced around. “The Wuxin are chasing me.”

His expression turned grim as he whispered, “Our scouts reported more of them were sighted around Kunlun, searching for something.”

“Someone,”

I corrected him after a pause.

“I suspected as much, which was why I sent more soldiers here and joined them myself.”

He hesitated. “I hope you’re not angry. I didn’t want to disobey your order, but I was concerned about you.”

I shook my head, glad to see him. “Who is heading the court now?”

He grinned. “Minister Hu is appointed the acting First Advisor, leaving Minister Guo apoplectic with rage. He took to his bed in protest, and let’s hope he remains there.”

I suppressed a laugh. “Thank you for looking out for me, my friend.”

“Always,”

he said somberly, his eyes bright. “If you die, who will appoint me as the Minister of Revelry?”

He bent to study my face. “Are you well? You look pale.”

“I’m fine,”

I assured him, though my nerves were still frayed. “Where are the soldiers?”

He jerked his head eastward. “They’ve made camp over there, but I came this way because I heard something. You made enough noise to wake an elephant.”

His mouth pursed as he asked, “Where is the God of War? Why isn’t he with you?”

Chengyin and I had few secrets from each other. Yet what had passed between Zhangwei and me felt private, for us alone. And I dared not tell him that the god was vulnerable now, for who knew who was listening in the dark?

“We were separated. When the Wuxin came, I ran,” I said.

A clash broke out from behind us, the night illuminated by streaks of fire. The familiar rush of Zhangwei’s magic surged through the air—the force of his might far stronger, unhindered at last.

“Zhangwei is near.”

I grinned, trying to figure out where he was, wanting to rush to him. “We must find the soldiers and join him. We’ll be safe now.”

“Zhangwei?”

Chengyin repeated, his eyes pinched together. “You’re on familiar terms with the God of War.”

“We’ve been through a lot. Let’s find him first,”

I suggested. “He might need help.”

Chengyin’s lip curled. “It’s unlikely the God of War will need any mortal’s aid.”

“Mortal?”

I repeated slowly, the disdain in his tone jarring me . . . a hateful suspicion unfurling in my mind.

“Come, I’ll take you to our soldiers first.”

He extended his hand to me. As his sleeve slid back, I caught sight of the scar on the underside of his wrist—the one I’d given him when we were children. It had never wholly faded, still a faint purplish red like it was newly inflicted.

I nodded at the scar, furrowing my brow. “Does it still hurt? You should be more careful when training with the soldiers.”

Just the barest pause as he smiled. “I will. It won’t happen again.”

The most powerful Wuxin can even steal another’s form.

This was not Chengyin. The scar was one I’d given him, years ago when we’d broken his mother’s vase—and he’d never let me hear the end of it.

I swallowed my terror, stamping it down, forcing my lips into a rictus of a smile. My only chance lay in being the better liar. “Show me the way. I’ll follow you; I can’t walk as fast.”

As the imposter stalked ahead, I slowed my steps to fall behind, my hand closing around the hilt of my sword. I had one chance; I mustn’t falter, recalling all Zhangwei had taught me. Drawing my blade, I raised it to strike—but he spun around, a flash of green light erupting from his hand. I ducked, then drove my sword at his chest. He swung back swiftly—my blade piercing his shoulder instead, a fierce satisfaction surging through me. The Wuxin hissed in fury, blood oozing from the wound. How vicious he looked, eyes slitted with malevolence.

“Try that again and I’ll bring you back in pieces,”

he snarled.

“You need me alive, or you’d have killed me already,”

I shot back. If I gave up now, I’d stop fighting.

As I lifted my sword again, a whip appeared in his hand, seething with greenish light. He flung it toward me, wrapping it around the length of my arm—the pain almost blinding, worse than the immortal queen’s punishment. I gasped as my blade fell from my hand.

He was studying it, his eyes alight. “Your weapon is the companion blade to the God of War’s. How did you get it?”

I stared at him blankly, dazed by this revelation. Why would Zhangwei entrust me with this sword? Was it because I had the lotus?

“I’ll tell you nothing,”

I said with feeling.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He picked up the sword—but as his fingers touched the black jade hilt, it glowed with an unearthly light. An unseen force shoved him back, red welts forming across his fingers. The sword shimmered, then abruptly disappeared. I hoped Zhangwei sensed this, that he was near.

The imposter was nursing his hand, still searching for the sword. I scrambled away—but he lunged at me, wrapping his hand around my throat. In the same move, he brought me to the ground, pinning me down effortlessly like I was a doll in his grasp. As I struggled, the pins fell from my hair, the coils unraveling down my back.

“Liyen!”

Zhangwei’s voice called out, ringing with urgency and fear.

Hope flared, even as despair mounted. I kicked wildly at the Wuxin, gathering my strength as I screamed—a piercing cry, the sole defense left to me. Zhangwei would hear it; he would come. My scream was cut off as the Wuxin’s fingers squeezed my neck tighter, choking me. I was lightheaded, dizzy, yet his grip was relentless, his nails digging into my throat. His eyes shone, ringed with copper. How could I have ever thought he was Chengyin? I clawed at him, clinging to consciousness, but as his hands clenched harder, I was lost—the night rising up to drown me.