Immortal

39

My life depended on my lies.

A sobering thought as an attendant showed me to the hall where Lord Dalian was, the last place I wanted to be. Tall windows flanked the chamber, opening to the skies beyond, the void birds circling in the distance. The floor was covered with thick carpets edged in silver, intricate wooden carvings of flowers hanging from the walls. Rosewood lanterns swung from the ceiling, gleaming in the afternoon light.

A trio of dancers swayed in the center of the hall. Their outstretched palms bore flames that curved to their movements, flaring higher as they spun gracefully. Those bronze bells hung from their waists, eerily silent. Musicians accompanied them, one strumming a lute, another playing a bamboo flute. The guests were seated at low tables, each one set with jars of wine, though only small servings of food: jellyfish, pickled cucumbers, pastries the size of coins. The Wuxin picked idly at them, their hungry gaze darting around the room. Some were gaunt, almost ashen. I would have thought them ill if they were mortal. As a thin woman raised a cup to her lips, her fingers seemed almost translucent. They were weakening, fading . . . starving? I smothered a flicker of pity. Maybe they weren’t wholly evil, yet they’d chosen their survival at the cost of my people’s.

Lord Dalian and Aunt Shou were seated upon the dais. His gilded throne was so wide it could have sat two across, while his mother’s chair was smaller, crafted of precious zitan wood. I strode toward them, stifling a burst of anger that he wore Chengyin’s face so brazenly, twisting his features with spite.

As I approached, Lord Dalian’s eyes thinned. He raised his hand seemingly in greeting, yet light darted from his fingers through a window. A void bird with a saffron plume soared into the hall, its body the span of my arms spread wide. As its wing caught a low table, porcelain cups were swept onto the floor. I stumbled back, instinctively reaching for a weapon I didn’t have. Yet the Wuxin remained calm, some glaring at the bird like it was a petty nuisance rather than the monster it was.

It wouldn’t hurt them, just outsiders like me. As the bird cocked its head at me, studying me with its beady eyes, my pulse stuttered unevenly. At last, it turned away as though bored. Lord Dalian flicked his hand toward the window again, the bird spreading its wings to fly out once more. I released a deep breath, silently thanking Aunt Shou for the fragrance.

“Welcome,”

Lord Dalian said at last. “Our newest member of the family.”

I tilted my head to the windows, letting the sunlight catch my eyes, hoping the coppery illusion shone through. “Did I pass your test, Lord Dalian?”

I smiled to blunt the edge in my tone, concealing my fear. “If you’d like to call another of your pets in, maybe we should move the tables away from the windows.”

He returned my smile, though there was no warmth in it. “More an affirmation than a test. Best to clear up any doubts before things get complicated.”

“Enough with the games, Dalian,”

Aunt Shou said. “I told you last night, everything went according to plan. Her transformation was secured the moment she entered the Temple of the Crimson Moon. Now it’s best to deal openly with the Lady of Tianxia.”

“Is she still that?”

he scoffed.

“Yes,”

I replied with emphasis. “I don’t relinquish my duty to my people that easily. You would understand, wouldn’t you, Lord Dalian?”

As an uncomfortable silence fell, I looked around the room. “Am I interrupting a celebration?”

“You are welcome here.”

Lord Dalian lifted a cup toward me in a toast, though he did not drink from it. “We would have invited you earlier, except Mother mentioned you needed rest. Her advice was sound; you look refreshed.”

I fought back a laugh. They could never imagine what I’d done last night. “I am grateful for your consideration.”

“Are you grateful for the honor bestowed on you as well?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It is a great gift to become one of us. Eternity lies before you, power and glory.”

He was trying to place me in the position of a supplicant; the better for him when he made his demands. Yet all I wanted was to stab him for trying to take away my choice. “I was confused at first—uncertain,”

I said. “But I now have a new appreciation of my abilities.”

His eyes gleamed. “Yes, I sense your magic. Can you use it?”

A dangerous question. My magic was of Water, rare among the immortals who grew up in the Golden Desert. Lord Dalian believed that part of my life was extinguished; I couldn’t admit to remembering my past training. Yet I had to be of some use so he wouldn’t hurt Chengyin. What if I could use this to foil his plans?

“Only a little,”

I said, furrowing my brow. “I might need more training—”

“No training is needed for your task,”

Lord Dalian cut me off. “I believe Mother has explained it to you?”

Before I could reply, his gaze shifted to the back of the hall. A stout, bearded Wuxin warrior wearing an ornate helmet strode forward and bowed to the throne. “Lord Dalian, I bring a message from the Winged Devils trapped in Tianxia. They are unable to return home because the immortals are hunting them.”

“What do they want, General Fang?”

Lord Dalian asked, leaning back against his throne.

“Permission to cross the gateway to enter the Netherworld,”

he replied.

Lord Dalian shook his head. “The gateway has grown unstable of late. We must secure the passage for our own people.”

General Fang frowned. “My lord, the Winged Devils are our faithful allies. They are in danger after attacking Queen’s Caihong’s palace upon our request. They expected our aid then, but—”

“Then they were fools,”

Lord Dalian snapped. “How could we reveal ourselves back then? Tell them to be patient. Once the gateway is fully opened, they can rejoin us.”

General Fang exchanged a look with a tall woman, who stepped out from the side. Her long hair was braided and tucked into a helmet. “My lord, what of the Winged Devils in the Immortal Realm, imprisoned by Queen Caihong?”

she asked.

“They will have to wait, Captain Lai. Our priority is to secure the Mortal Realm. Once we are strong, the other realms will fall.”

She stiffened, her jaw tensing. “General Fang and I gave our word to the Winged Devils that we would protect them in return for their service—”

“Captain Lai, it’s not my concern what promises you made,”

Lord Dalian said harshly.

“These promises were what you told us to make.”

General Fang’s gaze slid to Aunt Shou. “Great Lady, surely you see the importance of keeping our word?”

“My mother no longer rules here, General Fang.”

Lord Dalian’s tone was sharp with threat. “Do you need a reminder of who wields the power now?”

His gaze shifted to the general’s gold bell that glowed with an eerie light. A strangled sound slipped from General Fang’s throat, sweat glistening across his brow. The color drained from Captain Lai’s face as she fell to her knees, clasping her hands before her. “My lord, General Fang spoke in haste. We will respond to the Winged Devils as you commanded.”

Aunt Shou touched her son’s hand. “Dalian, enough. General Fang is a brave and loyal warrior.”

“Maybe, but he needs to be cleverer, unless he wants to be replaced.”

Lord Dalian glanced at Captain Rao, whose hungry expression reminded me of Minister Guo whenever he scented opportunity.

A heavy silence cloaked the hall as General Fang and Captain Lai left. I was beginning to understand why few wanted to sit close to the throne, but I couldn’t let that deter me.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Lord Dalian,” I said.

An eyebrow quirked up, the expression so reminiscent of Chengyin that my heart quailed. “You may ask.”

“I am here now, one of you. Will you release Chengyin?”

His fingers crumbled a pastry upon his plate. “Do you still care for him? Your mortal betrothed?”

“Our bonds are not so easily broken.”

I turned to Aunt Shou, adding, “Just as he’s still your son.”

Lord Dalian scowled, displeased at the reminder. “I’ll keep him a while longer, until you prove yourself to me.”

I cursed inwardly, for it meant Zhangwei and I were trapped too. But a direct challenge would only set him against me when I needed him to think I was on his side. “Lord Dalian, haven’t I already done that? I did as you asked, going to the temple. Why are you still holding him captive?”

He studied me through hooded eyes, as though trying to see beneath my skin. “Come, let’s speak as equals.”

It rankled that he hadn’t thought of me as one before. “Very well, Dalian,”

I replied, intentionally misunderstanding him as I discarded his title—he didn’t deserve the courtesy.

Anger flickered in his gaze. “Things might be different in your mortal court, but here, you will adhere to the formalities. I am the ruler and will be acknowledged as such,”

he said cuttingly. “As you know, I want you to open the gateway to Kunlun. A small matter for the rulers of Tianxia who are its guardians.”

He was lying. Just as he’d lied to get me to the Temple of the Crimson Moon. It was my immortal bloodline he was after. My mother, Queen Caihong, had trapped the Wuxin here with her magic—and only with mine could they be released.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth this time?”

My tone was soft yet firm. “You said you’d free Chengyin before, too.”

He sighed as though I’d become tiresome. “I swear before all present—once you open the gateway, I will leave this mortal husk.”

My hands clenched but I forced them to loosen. “Why do you want to open the gateway?”

Aunt Shou had told me, but I would hear it from him; I wouldn’t obey him unquestioningly. And this would help me measure his support at court.

He looked around the hall. “Because we need the realm beyond. My people grow hungry; the Wangchuan River can no longer sustain us.”

Several nodded, as did the woman with the translucent fingers—but as many or more remained still, their silence emboldening me.

“Why not leave the mortals alone?”

I asked. “Why not channel your efforts into restoring the Wangchuan River, to rebuild rather than destroy? The mortals are not your enemy—”

“They should serve us,”

he snapped. “We are stronger than them, greater than they could ever hope to be. Our existence is infinite, not measured in paltry years. Our lives are worth more.”

Revulsion bloomed in my gut like mold in dank air. I could understand ambition, the drive to aid one’s people, the desire to rise high—but to enslave others out of greed, because one imagined they were “inferior”

. . . it was wrong. More than wrong, it was vile. But I had to hide my thoughts, to give Dalian no reason to suspect me.

“If I do this, your people must leave Tianxia untouched.”

I would never let him get that far, but I had to pretend we were aligned—to act like his promise mattered.

“Of course,”

he agreed with a magnanimous air. “You may have Tianxia, as long as they submit to my rule.”

He was not being generous. With the gateway opened, he would have the entire Mortal Realm to feed from.

As he smiled, my stomach churned. “But first, a small trial to demonstrate your new abilities. Let me gauge your strength.”

As I stiffened at his suggestion, Dalian gestured to the two women behind him who stepped forward. “Lin, Mei—both of you will challenge her in a test of magic. One of might, not combat—do not hurt her. If you win, you’ll be rewarded. Fail, and you’ll be flogged.”

He dealt such vicious punishment so easily, a tyrant ruling through fear.

“Mercy shows the strength of your heart, my son,”

Aunt Shou advised.

“How dull you are, Mother,”

Dalian replied scornfully. “Do you take pride in acting like a virtuous do-gooder?”

He was on edge; anger unsettled him. I was beginning to realize that when he was calm was when he was most dangerous.

Lin and Mei turned pale as they bowed. Like me, they had no choice. Together, we crossed to the center of the hall, though my mind was distracted. I wanted to win, angered by his condescension—yet didn’t want the women to be flogged. As Lin raised her hand, light hurtled forth to slam into my shoulder. It seared as I staggered back—caught unaware. At once, she caught my arm to steady me, her face grim.

“I thought you were ready,”

she said by way of apology.

I shook my head. “I should have been.”

Her fingers probed my shoulder before I could protest—afraid that she might sense I wasn’t who I claimed—but her power flowed, healing my wound.

Mei called out to her, “Sister, are you ready?”

We resumed our positions. Light blazed from my hands to form a curved barrier of azure light, while Lin’s power formed a yellow shield that collided against mine. I swayed from the unexpected force, still unused to channeling my magic. Digging my heels in, I steadied myself—as Mei raised her hand, a reddish light flowing into her sister’s shield. The pressure intensified, my breathing growing hoarse. Frost formed across my hands, the other guests murmuring in surprise. But I was already tiring, these enchantments taking a toll—though it was a relief that I could hold my own against these two seasoned fighters.

I grasped more of my power, eager to clinch victory, to catch them off guard. As I braced to strike, the sight of their faces stalled me. Lin was sweating, Mei was pale; their expressions twisted with strain. They were exhausted, yet afraid to fail.

If I lost, I’d earn Dalian’s insults—but he wouldn’t hurt me, not yet. Meanwhile, a brutal thrashing awaited them. I’d tasted the violence of his whip once, and it was Lin who’d healed me. And maybe it would be better if Dalian thought me weak, if he underestimated me.

Slowly, I released the hold over my magic. Lin frowned as though sensing my intentional weakening. I inclined my head, waiting a moment longer—then gasped, falling to sprawl upon the floor. Their magic surged toward me, but Lin leashed it swiftly before it struck. The trial was over . . . and I’d lost.

As they bowed to me, I folded my body in return.

“Your guards are impressive, Lord Dalian,”

I said deliberately.

He was glaring at me like I was a prize he’d won that wasn’t worth as much as he’d thought. “You’re not as strong as I expected.”

I shrugged. “I’ve never been strong. Maybe I can’t do as you asked.”

His mouth pulled taut. “For your sake, I hope you can.”

And though he smiled at me, it reminded me of a viper parting its jaws, biding its time as it contemplated when to strike. Even if I did everything he asked, he would kill me anyway . . . once I was no longer of use.