Immortal

33

It couldn’t be her. Had Aunt Shou been possessed too? But while Lord Dalian’s control of Chengyin was a precise mirror, there were unsettling differences here: Aunt Shou’s gray hair was now pure white, though still coiled in her preferred style, her clear eyes devoid of the filminess of age, and the spots that had speckled her face and arms were gone like they’d been washed away. Worse yet was the way she looked at me with such knowing—she was Aunt Shou, if time had reversed itself.

“How is this possible?”

The question slipped from me; I was still grasping for any other possibility—that she had a twin, that she’d been tricked or even bewitched? Because the alternative, that she had betrayed my grandfather and me all these years, sent a shaft of unimaginable pain through my chest.

Aunt Shou clicked her tongue as she usually did when she was impatient. “Trust your eyes, Liyen—the truth before you.”

Her hard tone, her cool gaze . . . she didn’t seem like Aunt Shou anymore, her softness cut away like the flesh of a fruit, revealing its stony pit.

“Who are you?”

My voice fractured over the words.

“This is my real home; these are my people. Dalian is my son,”

she replied.

I shook my head in confusion. “I thought you had a daughter before Chengyin?”

Her eyes clouded as though she still struggled with these memories. “My daughter is dead. I just never mentioned Dalian; it would have raised too many questions.”

I stared at her, feeling a tightness within. Grandfather and I had trusted her, we’d loved her—and all this while she’d been working against us. We were fools to have never questioned how she knew so much of the immortals, her dislike of them, how she’d nudged Grandfather to confront them, her interest in the lotus and even the God of War. It was so with those we grew up with, who came into our lives before our hearts were bruised and hardened. Before we knew better.

Anger broke through the disappointment and shock. “It was you who poisoned me with the waters of the Wangchuan,”

I said flatly. “You sent the Winged Devils after me, both at the wall and the queen’s palace. Why did you want to kill me?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it a hundred times before. While the waters of the Wangchuan would bring death to any mortal, there is one cure—”

“The Divine Pearl Lotus,”

I finished, almost choking on my rage. The threads were falling into place, weaving a picture far more tangled and intricate than anything I could have imagined. “You knew about it from the start—when it bloomed, because Grandfather confided in you, and that he was going to surrender it to the immortal queen. Is that why you poisoned me, to make him give it to me instead? Why not just take the lotus for yourself?”

“It had to be you.”

Her tone dipped with something like regret. “The Divine Pearl Lotus grew from your grandfather’s care, a treasure of the Mortal Realm, maybe the greatest one that ever existed. Your grandfather was the only one who could harvest the flower without it wilting, he was the only one who could gift it.”

“And he would only give it to Queen Caihong, or to me.”

How painful this choice must have been for him.

“Why do you want the lotus?”

I demanded. “Was it because you didn’t want Queen Caihong to have it? Or because of its link with the gateway?”

“The immortals don’t deserve it; they don’t deserve the cure, especially not the merciless God of War. Let them all die,”

she said bitterly. “They murdered my people. They are wicked and false, wearing a mask of benevolence when they are as greedy, ambitious, and conniving as those they accuse.”

“The immortals helped us,”

I argued. “It was your people who invaded my kingdom, who were killing us.”

“We had no choice. We were dying,”

she said. “Wasting away to nothing but dust. It’s why we took physical form, because it strengthened us. We had to fight for our own future.”

A weight sank over me. Maybe that was the tragedy—both sides believing unflinchingly in their own rightness, that they’d been wronged by the other. Maybe they’d fought so relentlessly because they believed it was for their survival. And my kingdom had paid the highest price of all.

“Aunt Shou”—it didn’t feel right to call her that, but old habits were hard to break—“was everything false? What about Chengyin? Did you plan for Grandfather to die?”

The possibility revolted me.

Her mouth quivered, the harshness fading from her expression. “I was still grieving for my child when I saw Chengyin for the first time, abandoned and helpless, reviled for nothing more than superstition. I couldn’t bear it.”

She drew in a long breath, her chest heaving. “As for your grandfather, he was a true friend to me. I didn’t think the immortals would kill him; I didn’t expect his heart to give out. His death is one I will forever regret.”

Her sorrow did not blunt my anger; it would not bring my grandfather back. “How did you disguise yourself all these years? Why did no one in Tianxia know who you were?”

“Such magic runs in my bloodline,”

she said. “It’s why Dalian can usurp another’s body, a rare ability among us.”

“Another’s body?”

I repeated scathingly. “Chengyin is your son.”

Her face fell but she said nothing. I wanted to ask more, to learn all I could. But I was drained, sick to the heart. I would never forgive her betrayal, for abandoning Chengyin to her vicious son.

Lord Dalian—the false Chengyin—strode into the hall, his hair pulled into an ornate gold headpiece. Two women followed him bearing weapons, one of whom was Miss Lin, the short-haired Wuxin who’d attacked my home. The other was a taller woman with curly hair, though they shared similar features. Were they his personal guards? Captain Rao followed after them, a sneer on his face as he passed me.

Silence trailed Lord Dalian’s entrance, all bowing as he stalked onto the dais, then sat on the throne. His turquoise robe was a flash of brightness amid the somber garb of his court. I wondered why the other Wuxin wore such dull colors. Was it their choice or because their lord preferred to be the center of attention—a peacock among the sparrows?

“Long live Lord Dalian, the Eternal Ruler over the Netherworld,”

they intoned.

I dropped my head but did not bow like the others. As Aunt Shou beamed at him, I bit down on my tongue. Didn’t she care what he’d done? Chengyin loved her, and she must have cared for him too—though what did it matter when she refused to help him now?

As Lord Dalian leaned against his throne, I tensed beneath his scrutiny. “I see you’ve become reacquainted with my mother?”

he remarked.

“An unexpected surprise.”

I managed to say, though I hated seeing him in my friend’s body, the way he made Chengyin seem terrifying and vicious.

“Do you know how your betrothed was snared by me?”

His smile was coated with malice. He wanted to see me hurt; he wanted to break me.

“I heard it’s not easy.”

Let him talk, let him teach me what I needed to know to fight him.

He sneered as he nodded at Aunt Shou. “It was a fine act, Mother, when you pleaded for him to help you. You acted so convincingly, he didn’t hesitate, believing you were in danger.”

Aunt Shou went pale, her lips pursed into a knot. I hoped Chengyin couldn’t hear this, trapped in his own body. Lord Dalian seemed to relish tormenting not just me, but his mother too.

“Better this than Chengyin’s death, if he didn’t surrender,”

Aunt Shou said in a low voice.

“Did you know he would sacrifice himself willingly?”

Lord Dalian needled. “Is my ‘brother’ such a paragon of virtue?”

Aunt Shou lifted her head. “He is a good person. Goodness should not be scorned; there’s far too little of it in the world.”

“Enough, Mother,”

Lord Dalian drawled, though his eyes glinted dangerously. “I know I’m your greatest disappointment. I know how you prefer all my siblings to me—even the dead.”

“Don’t say such things.”

Aunt Shou pressed a fist to her forehead. “Damei’s death was a great loss for us.”

“We all know how you mourned for her, Mother—your precious heir. You even relinquished your throne because of your grief,”

he said with an edge to his voice.

“Not just my heir; she was your sister,”

Aunt Shou hissed.

“It’s why you hated the immortals, willing to do whatever it took to seek vengeance.”

He jerked his head at me. “Even living with the mortals.”

I ignored his intended slight. “Why did the immortals kill your daughter?”

I asked Aunt Shou, seeking a weakness to exploit.

She didn’t answer right away, blinking like there was a haze over her eyes. “Before, we didn’t hurt anyone, we took what no one noticed. But after we protested Queen Caihong’s rule, her soldiers began attacking us, unprovoked. Damei was killed in one of the skirmishes.”

“They thought they could dominate us, to frighten us into submission. They were wrong; they made us stronger.”

Lord Dalian raised his voice so all could hear him. “Power keeps us safe; it keeps us alive. Though we lost the war, we never forgot the lesson. This time, victory will be ours.”

Aunt Shou nodded woodenly. “We must talk, my son. I’ve been away too long in the Mortal Realm. What are these barriers erected along the Wangchuan River? Has the situation worsened?”

“The barriers are to protect the river, so no one can harm it or steal from it. It became necessary as there was discontent before, from those who didn’t understand why the restrictions were in place.”

Lord Dalian nodded at Captain Rao, who approached Aunt Shou and held out a bell on a tray. It was just like those the Wuxin wore, except this one was crafted in gold—almost the twin to the one on Lord Dalian’s waist, though his was a darker metal.

“Take it, Mother,”

he urged when she remained still. “You won’t be bound to the same restrictions as the others.”

She frowned as she looked from the bell, to him. “This is not the way, my son.”

“Are you questioning me, Mother?”

Lord Dalian’s tone grew harsher. “I don’t need your approval; I rule our people now.”

“I only want what’s best for you and our people,”

she argued calmly. “A good ruler thinks of all his people, not just those who are closest.”

“Save your sanctimonious lectures for the mortals like her.”

As he glanced at me, I itched to slap him for his disrespect to his mother—even though I should despise her.

Captain Rao bowed to Aunt Shou, pushing the tray a little closer. “Great Lady, the Wangchuan River weakened in potency shortly after you left to the Mortal Realm. It was unable to sustain us as before. Lord Dalian erected the barriers around its banks to help preserve it, restricting its use to ensure there was enough for everyone.”

The bell the captain wore was of shining gold, unlike the bronze ones worn by Miss Lin and the others. It seemed unlikely that he suffered any of the restrictions he spoke so glibly of.

“Is this true, Dalian?”

Aunt Shou asked.

“This is why it’s imperative to secure the Mortal Realm for our people,”

Lord Dalian replied curtly. “Take the bell, Mother.”

The last was spoken as a command.

The other courtiers were watching as Aunt Shou finally nodded, reaching for it. “I didn’t know about these troubles.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,”

he replied. “Rest assured, I didn’t act lightly. I will secure our people’s future and avenge my sister.”

My mind whirled. They were not attacking our realm out of vengeance, ambition, or greed—but desperation. If the Wangchuan River fulfilled them as before, would they still invade us?

Aunt Shou touched Lord Dalian’s shoulder where I’d stabbed him. “How is your wound?”

“The healing is slow. Her blade was no ordinary one; it vanished before I could retrieve it.”

He scowled as he adjusted his sleeve, his cold gaze flicking toward me. “I grow bored of this weak body. With her here, maybe this vessel has served his purpose.”

Panic flared, along with hate. Before I could protest, Aunt Shou cast me a warning look.

“We still need him,”

she said. “Their bond is strong. He will tether her to us, ensuring her obedience. And as importantly, your healing will be quicker in the mortal’s body.”

He nodded. “You are right, Mother.”

It struck me then, Aunt Shou knew there was no engagement between Chengyin and me, yet she hadn’t told Lord Dalian. Was she trying to protect Chengyin? Or was she keeping her own secrets because she didn’t wholly trust him? Either way, this was a divide I might be able to wrest wider apart.

“How was I brought here? Has the gateway been opened?”

I desperately hoped to be wrong, even as I sought a way out—suppressing a rush of longing to go home.

Lord Dalian’s expression darkened. “Not entirely. Only a few can cross each day.”

I feigned a look of surprise. “Why not open it all the way through? Is it hard?”

“Prying just this sliver apart is an immense strain—who else would dare to undertake such an endeavor? It is far more complex than anything you might conceive,”

he snapped. “While there are restrictions to the crossing, while it is dangerous for now—it’s a worthwhile risk to secure our future.”

Easily said, when another paid the price instead of him.

“You have accomplished what no one else could do, my lord.”

Captain Rao flattered him in a fine display of how he’d earned the gold bell. “Soon the gateway will be open and our forces in place to invade the Mortal Realm.”

His eyes gleamed like he was eager for war, but Miss Lin’s expression was tense.

She hesitated, then moved forward to bow to Lord Dalian. “Perhaps an invasion may not be necessary if the Wangchuan River can be restored?”

Several courtiers nodded, not all as hungry for war as the captain.

Lord Dalian’s eyes slid toward me. “Of course. It’s why she’s here.”

“What do you want from me, Lord Dalian?”

I braced for him to ask about the Divine Pearl Lotus, to demand its surrender.

“A simple task.”

He stretched his arms along his throne. “You’ve heard how the waters of the Wangchuan have weakened in potency. We believe they’ve been tainted.”

The hall had gone quiet, everyone staring at us.

“We’ve traced the taint to the pond in the Temple of the Crimson Moon. It is connected to the Wangchuan, and we believe this is causing the river’s power to wane.”

Lord Dalian’s gaze hardened. “I need you to purify the pond, to restore the Wangchuan River. Only one who wields the power of the Divine Pearl Lotus, as you do, is allowed into the temple.”

At last, he’d mentioned the lotus, but questions still crowded my mind. I’d thought he wanted it to open the gateway. Had I been wrong? Did he only want to use me—the lotus—to restore the Wangchuan River? To help their world instead of destroying mine?

It would be infinitely preferable to end a war rather than to start one.

I bit the inside of my cheek, thinking hard. If they knew I’d surrendered the lotus, Chengyin and I would suffer. “Is it safe for me to enter the temple?”

I asked carefully.

He smiled as though I’d already agreed. “There is no danger. Once you are inside, your task will become clear.”

“If I do this, will you let Chengyin and me go? Will you swear to leave the Mortal Realm alone?”

His eyes gleamed. “If you succeed in restoring the Wangchuan River’s power, we won’t need your realm.”

Unease thickened. He’d agreed too quickly, without even negotiating the terms. His answers seemed too convenient, too smooth. Yet how could I refuse? There was little choice, but what if I could delay it? Even now, Zhangwei might be searching for me, gathering reinforcements. I just needed a little time.

“Why the urgency, Lord Dalian? My arm is still injured from your whip; I don’t know if I can do what you ask.”

I didn’t usually play the victim, but I’d say anything to buy a reprieve.

He stiffened, maybe expecting unflinching obedience. “Lin, see to her wound,”

he barked.

Miss Lin stalked forward, her bearing taut with annoyance. I didn’t think she liked being spoken to this way, or maybe she thought this task was beneath her. As she reached for my hand, I hesitated before giving it to her. She inspected the wound, frowning—did she notice someone had tried healing me? My eyes met hers, a silent plea in them. I couldn’t expose Mingwen; Lord Dalian would take her help as an insult to his authority, not the simple act of kindness it had been. As she nodded slightly, relief flooded me.

Light flickered from her fingers, gliding over my arm and wrist, even the cuts on my palms that she said nothing of. The last of my discomfort vanished, along with the marks.

“She’s healed, Lord Dalian,”

Miss Lin said, returning to his side.

“Will you do this?”

Lord Dalian asked me sharply, an order veiled as a question.

When I hesitated, he plucked a dagger from his waist, pressing his finger on its tip until it pierced the skin. His brow tensed as his blood spilled. I recoiled, suppressing my rage—wanting to strike him, yet afraid to.

Aunt Shou spoke before I could, her face pale. “Be careful, my son,”

she said in a voice that I strained to hear. “This form helps you to recuperate, but while you’re connected to the host, you are bound to their weakness—”

“Silence, Mother.”

He glared at her, his mouth twisted in fury.

As she shrank away, I quashed my pity. She deserved this and more—but it still didn’t make this right.

Lord Dalian was waiting for my answer, toying with the blade in his hands. A vise tightened around me. I had tested him as far as I dared. If I didn’t yield, Chengyin and I would suffer the consequences. And even if I refused, from the look on his face, he’d just drag me there by force.

“I will go.”

He settled back against his throne, his smile as false as mine. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”