Immortal

40

Rain fell in heavy waves, dark clouds sheathing the skies. I sheltered beneath a lacquered umbrella; it was easier than channeling magic into a shield.

“Which direction leads to the nearest town?”

I asked the guards at the entrance.

A woman gestured ahead. “Follow the pathway lit by the lanterns. Would you like an escort?”

I paused, pretending to consider the suggestion. “Not in this weather. But if you have a recommendation for a good teahouse, I’d welcome it.”

An excuse, in case Dalian had sent spies.

“Phoenix Nest Inn has excellent tea and wine.”

She grinned at me. “If you mention Soldier Yung sent you, you’ll get a fair price.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I jangled the pouch taken from my room, filled with the smooth stones the Wuxin used as money. Each bore a flicker of emotion: a purple gem pulsing with excitement, an aquamarine heavy with grief, pieces of amber bright with joy.

As I walked, the rain lightened to a drizzle. Stars glinted, violet streaks carving the crimson skies. An unearthly beauty enveloped this place like a midnight sunset. As the wind blew, the oblong lanterns that were strung up swayed. Birch trees flanked the path, their bark peeling in patches to reveal an underside of white. Dark vines were tangled between their branches, clusters of flowers gleaming between the leaves. All the while, the void birds circled above.

Some of the Wuxin chatted as they walked, others were silent. A few held the hands of children. By each waist hung that soundless bronze bell, a tether they could not unfasten—not if they wanted to survive. Without seeing them as I now did, it would be easy to think of them all as monsters, to fear what I didn’t know. And I couldn’t help wondering if all this strife might have been averted had there been a little more compassion and acceptance on both sides, if pain had not been twisted into opportunity and suffering into ambition. A great pity that it was easier to hate than to understand.

Lights glimmered ahead, voices rising from the town. The liveliness was in stark contrast to Lord Dalian’s court, where even the music could not veil the silence. The streets were flanked by buildings of light-colored wood, their sloped roofs tiled in dark reds and greens. As I turned east toward the bridge Zhangwei mentioned, unease darted over the back of my neck. Someone was following me—was that why I’d been allowed out?

I ducked into a store selling tea. Jars were filled with dried osmanthus, jasmine, silver needles. There were also plants I’d never heard of: five-century bark, winter lilies, fire-leaf tea. I lingered over my purchase, yet when I left the shop, the prickling sensation of being followed remained.

Unlike the villages of my kingdom, there were only a few food stalls along the streets. I stopped by each one, choosing sugared fruit, a box of dragon-beard candy, steamed buns, and a paper cone of roasted chestnuts. Did the Wuxin eat purely for entertainment, or did a small part of them crave our food once they took our forms?

“Why did you buy so much?”

A small girl, her white hair braided, pointed at the bags in my hands.

I crouched down to look into her face. “I like to eat. Have you tried these?”

She shook her head. “Father said it’s a waste of money. We don’t need it.”

I grinned as I lifted the chestnuts, their rich aroma wafting in the air. “If you’d tasted these, I’m sure you’d like them too.”

Drawn by her clear voice, more children surrounded me, staring openly. An idea sparked. “Would you like to try the food?”

I asked them.

A boy with a thin face scowled. “Not if it will turn my hair black like yours.”

I laughed. “I promise it won’t.”

When he nodded eagerly, along with the others, I approached the hawker selling sticks of candied strawberries, grapes, and hawthorn. “I will buy each child here one,”

I declared loudly, offering him a handful of stones.

The children cheered as they began jostling for their place in the line—more streaming in from the street, drawn by the crowd. The vendor’s expression alternated from panic to glee as he handed out the sticks. In the chaos, I slipped away, hurrying into a narrow lane. An unpleasant stench rose like rot and mold, but at least the sense of being watched had gone.

I crossed the bridge with the single lantern, then ran into the forest. Zhangwei was close, I could sense him. A flock of void birds circled above, ignoring me as they swooped down toward other prey. As a thin screech rang out—abruptly muffled—my blood turned cold. Zhangwei—were they attacking him? Had his scent washed off in the rain? I raced ahead, darting between the trees. The curve of a blade glinted as it whistled through the air, magic coursing in waves. Fortunately, we were far from town, unlikely to draw attention. Following the trail of the birds, I sprinted onward, wishing I had a weapon.

Ahead, a shield gleamed around Zhangwei as he fought several void birds. Their feathers gleamed ash and white, their talons emitting a clicking sound as they surrounded him.

His head darted up, his body stiffening at the sight of me. “Stay back—”

One of the birds lunged at him, its beak plunging into his shoulder. As blood seeped through his robe, his shield broke. These creatures were powerful, possessing magic of their own, and quick to exploit any distraction.

I dropped my bags and grabbed a rock to hurl at the bird closest to Zhangwei. It hissed as it swooped toward me—but Zhangwei sprang forward, bringing his sword down upon the creature’s head. Swiftly I wove a shield over us, just in time, as two birds tried to claw Zhangwei, scraping at my barrier. I flinched beneath their unexpected force but held steady. As a large bird flew at me, Zhangwei kicked it aside, then drove his blade through the neck of another.

His face was grim. He had learned to fight without emotion, to win at all costs. Yet each loss weighed on him, leaving its mark like the rings on a tree. He was the God of War, not the God of Death.

Swiftly I uncorked Aunt Shou’s bottle, shaking the fragrance over Zhangwei, praying it would still work. As another bird dove toward us, it stopped, cocking its head like it was confused—then flew away. A moment later, the others followed after it.

Zhangwei sheathed his sword and came to me. His strong hands caught me around my waist, lifting me to him. He held me like he had not seen me for a year, like he was afraid I’d be taken from him again. I buried my face against his neck, inhaling his crisp scent, trying not to look at the feathered bodies around us.

“You were right to worry.”

A hint of humor lifted his voice.

I smiled, too relieved to even gloat. “These birds are powerful adversaries. I think Dalian used them to seal the skies over Tianxia.”

Zhangwei’s aura seemed to waver. Leaning away, I tugged at his robe, revealing his wounds, bleeding and raw. At once, I released my magic into his body, healing him as he tensed.

He inspected my work with a faint smile. “You’ve improved your abilities.”

“I take more care with you,”

I admitted.

A shriek rang out, more birds circling the skies. Zhangwei cursed under this breath, raising his hand to strike them down, but I grabbed his arm. “Leave them. They won’t disturb us now.”

“I don’t like the way they look at us.”

His gaze narrowed as he stared at them. “Nothing is as it seems here. The skies are red, the birds thirst for blood, the river glows with the dead. Clouds crowd the skies, yet they don’t answer to our summons.”

“We aren’t in our realm anymore,”

I said gravely, staring at the silhouette of the mountain in the distance.

How I wished we could escape now—to go and not look back. But if I left, Chengyin would die. I’d never forgive myself, and I was glad Zhangwei didn’t try to persuade me.

We headed deeper into the forest, the trees concealing us from the birds. Zhangwei led me to a cave, well hidden behind a rocky outcrop, obscured by bushes. As he set down the bags he’d carried for me, I inspected the place. Lush green moss covered the earth, dotted with tiny blue flowers that reminded me of violets. Rivulets of glistening water streaked across the uneven ground, the rock walls glimmering with an iridescent sheen. Here, the air was cool, infused with a woody fragrance.

Without a word, Zhangwei pulled me to him. His mouth sought mine, his lips hard and impatient, like I was a craving he needed to sate. Slowly, he edged me against the wall until the rough stone pushed against my back, his body pressed to mine. My arms wound around his neck as I kissed the column of his throat—his eyes going dark with desire. As he bent down, his teeth grazed the delicate skin of my neck and bit down. A gasp slid from me as I went taut with wanting, thrusting a hand through his hair as a melting heat spilled inside me.

“Wait,”

I whispered before I lost my last tether to sanity. Before I sank down with him upon the floor and cast all caution aside.

He stilled at once, his heart pounding against mine. “You’re right—it’s too dangerous.”

His mouth curved into a smile, though his breathing was still harsh. “Later. When we’re home.”

I no longer knew where that was. To lighten my mood, I handed him the food from the town, keeping the candied fruit for myself. I bit into its sugared shell, chewing with more enthusiasm than true relish. The sweetness blunted the edge of desire, a diversion from our troubles. As I ate, Zhangwei inspected a piece of dragon-beard candy, parting the fine sugared strands to reveal a core of crushed peanuts.

“What happened today?” he asked.

“It was eventful.”

I spoke lightly, concealing the turmoil I’d felt, the fear that pierced like an arrow to the gut. “Dalian summoned a void bird to test me, pitted his fighters against me, then demanded that I open the gateway.”

“I will kill him,”

Zhangwei swore, his body clenched with rage.

I wanted Dalian to suffer, but not at the price of our safety. “All I want is for us to escape,”

I said in a low voice. “Once we’re away from here, out of his reach—we can stop him then.”

Zhangwei took my hand, threading his fingers between mine. “What did you tell him?”

“I had to agree.”

A sinking dread settled over me. “If I’d refused, he might have locked me up. He promised to leave Tianxia unscathed, that he’d release Chengyin—if I did as he asked.”

I closed my eyes, seeing before me the green plains of my kingdom, the shining rivers and blue gray mountains in the distance. It was my home as much as the Golden Desert was; one did not diminish my love for the other. To imagine destruction descending upon either—I could not bear it.

“I won’t do as he wants; I can’t.”

Despite my resolve, my fear remained because Dalian had a hundred ways to threaten me, to force my compliance.

“We’ll stop him,”

Zhangwei assured me. “Until then, stay on your guard. Do nothing to provoke him. Are you safe in the palace?”

“Dalian doesn’t trust me fully. He keeps testing me, needling me . . . hoping I’ll slip. Even if I do as he asks, he’ll likely kill me after.”

“He’ll never get the chance.”

Zhangwei’s tone was rife with menace, like he was ready to challenge the entire Wuxin army.

“Maybe he doesn’t trust anyone, not even his own mother,”

I added. “Nor does he seem to listen to his people. Some of his soldiers spoke for the Winged Devils who were deceived by Dalian’s promises. But he resorted to threats, forcing them to submit. Many don’t seem to want war, yet they’re convinced it’s the key to their survival. If there is another way, I don’t think they’ll want to invade.”

“Will Dalian give them a choice?”

Zhangwei asked.

“No. Maybe it’s why he now controls who can feed from the Wangchuan River, to stem dissent.”

I touched the bell at my waist. “This is a collar, not a gift.”

Zhangwei’s lip curled with disdain. “A ruler that is tolerated and feared, rather than respected or loved. He wears a hollow crown.”

“As do I,”

I said slowly.

Zhangwei shook his head. “You are not the same. The venom in your court stems mainly from the ambition of others; they decided against you before you even took the throne. They want to believe you incapable because it gives them a reason to seize power. You are untested; he is unfit.”

“Dalian has his supporters.”

I thought of Captain Rao, the courtiers who were quick to agree with his every command. “But there are also others who value peace more than ambition.”

Part of me wanted to help them except I didn’t know how, and my desire to escape—to protect my own—was greater.

“We must get him to relinquish his hold over your friend—Chengyin,”

Zhangwei said. “But Dalian is cunning; he’ll want you to open the gateway before releasing him.”

I thought back to what Aunt Shou had said before Dalian silenced her. “In Chengyin’s form—he’s vulnerable, too. I heard the Wuxin who possess another are also exposed to their weaknesses.”

Zhangwei fell silent as a line creased his brow. “If Chengyin is injured, will Dalian be too?”

“He cut Chengyin to threaten me.”

I recalled how he’d grimaced. “But when he did it, he also hurt himself.”

“Then this is the only way,”

Zhangwei said decisively.

“No.”

I recoiled from the loathsome thought—hating the hope that flickered.

His hand tightened over my mine, his other wrapping around the back of my neck to tilt our heads together. “You must trust me. If I have to wound him to help us all escape, I won’t endanger his life.”

A pause, my emotions warring within. “I do trust you . . . I just don’t want him to be hurt.”

“He’s hurting now,”

Zhangwei pointed out unflinchingly. “Whatever Dalian is doing to him, your friend is suffering. Ask yourself, would he want you to take this chance?”

Run. Chengyin had told me with his first breath of freedom. He’d wanted me to be safe; he’d wanted me to get away. And I would, but not without him.

As I nodded, fighting down a wave of despair—Zhangwei’s arms wrapped around me, holding me as his heart beat against mine. “We will get out, all of us. Trust me in this. Keep up the pretense that you’re an ally; go with Dalian when he commands you to. You won’t be alone.”

“He’ll be impatient, his hold over the gateway is waning. He said it’s unstable.”

“Then we must be ready,”

Zhangwei replied. “I’ll head to the gateway and wait for you there. It will take a little time, as I must go through the mountains, not along the river.”

His hand slid to the small of my back. “The moment Chengyin is freed, you must take him through the gateway first. I’ll make sure it’s safe—”

I pushed away from him, meeting his gaze. “I’m not going without you.”

“The Wuxin who helped me said only two can cross at a single time, and no more than a handful in a day. It’s too risky otherwise,”

he said adamantly. “Both of you must go ahead; I will follow. There is less danger for me—”

“You’re immortal, but you’re not invulnerable.”

I spoke with deliberate measure. “I’m not leaving without you. Chengyin will leave first—and then, we will go together.”

As he opened his mouth to protest, I placed my hand over his heart. “Where you go, I go.”

We glared at each other for a long while, neither of us yielding. Then he pulled me to him again and kissed me—his lips pressing against mine, not with hunger alone this time but with a tender sweetness that curled into my chest.

“Where you go, I go,”

he whispered into my ear. “Now, and always.”