Immortal

18

Sleep eluded me as I tossed on my bed. When I closed my eyes, the God of War’s face flashed through my mind—the unrelenting darkness of his eyes, the slant of his lips, the sharp planes of his face. It was safer to be awake; I could guard myself better.

He would come soon. The thought twisted me into knots, even as a restless anticipation built. I was no longer the ignorant mortal to be duped, no longer trapped in his world. Here, he would be in mine. All my efforts should be set on plotting against him, preparing for every eventuality. What if the God of War was crafting another plan? Another spell? The prospect of his nefarious schemes burrowed through my mind like a nail in my shoe.

I shifted in bed, pushing the covers down. It was too warm, too stifling with the windows closed. The air thrummed constantly with a faint energy, that I only noticed when all was quiet and dark. The God of War’s sword. A powerful weapon that could shift the balance in our favor, if only I knew how to use it. What use was power if one could not wield it? The finest sword left in its scabbard could strike no blow.

When I finally slept, it was uneven and fitful. I awoke later than usual to ashen skies, my mind gritty and drawn. As I pulled myself up, something fell from my wrist. The red thread bracelet Lord Zhangwei had tied around me, the bead broken, the thread snapped. My time in the skies was over; I could never return. My heart sank when it should have soared. Even though there was no one I’d miss there—life had become a little less wondrous, a little more gray.

At least today was one of rest for the court, though many would attend the afternoon meal with me. Yifei had laid out a set of clothes as I preferred to dress myself, unless more elaborate attire was required. I tied a yellow sash around the fern-green brocade, then sat down by the table to comb my hair.

Footsteps sounded along the path outside, the assured stride . . . almost familiar. The doors were pushed apart without a knock. I stood up, anger flaring—my gaze colliding with the God of War’s. His black robe was the color of my mood, his belt accented with jade. I hadn’t expected him so soon, with the tumult in the Palace of Radiant Light. Had the Winged Devils been subdued so quickly? As he stalked toward me, I opened my mouth to call for the guards—

“If you scream, if they come—I just might kill them.”

I didn’t think he would, yet he spoke the words with such menace, I closed my mouth instinctively, a shiver darting across my back.

“Are you done uttering pointless threats?”

I asked, infusing my tone with scorn.

“Not by half.”

“The guards wouldn’t have let you in unannounced. Did you hurt them?”

I demanded.

“No,”

he ground out. “They are asleep.”

“At this hour?”

I frowned, the truth setting in. “You did this. Wake them at once.”

He shook his head, moving toward me. “I’ll wake them once I get my answers.”

Fear spiked, but whether he liked it or not, he needed me alive. “You’ll get no answers from me unless you improve your conduct.”

“Such arrogance.”

He tilted his head back, raking me with his cold eyes. “Has Tianxia forgotten its obligation?”

I smiled. “Have you forgotten I haven’t pledged my loyalty to your queen yet? I am not bound.”

We glared at each other, my fear forgotten in the rush that swept over me. His presence set me on edge—inside, I was seething at his presumption, after all he’d done.

“I have come to propose an agreement,”

he said finally.

A small triumph that he’d been forced to speak first. “What terms do you offer, Lord Zhangwei?”

His eyebrows lifted. “Is there need for such formality? Don’t we know each other well enough?”

“Lord Zhangwei,”

I repeated with deliberate emphasis, “as it turns out, I never knew you at all.”

His mouth tightened. Let him be angry; I was angry too.

He took another step forward, towering over me. “You have a vile temper, little thief.”

“Don’t call me that,”

I snarled.

He tapped his chin contemplatively. “What should I call you when you took something you had no right to?”

“You stole from me first.”

I folded my arms. “If I’m a thief, what are you?”

“Not a good one. I came out poorer from our encounter.”

There was an edge to his tone; he didn’t like losing. I laughed tauntingly. “Don’t underestimate mortals next time.”

“You were far more cunning than I gave you credit for.”

“And you were infinitely more treacherous.”

His eyes slid down my neck to my chest. “Does it still hurt?”

“Do you care?”

A pause before he answered. “You said that I had no heart. It turns out you are the same.”

His audacity was breathtaking. “You stabbed me.”

“You were never in danger. It was necessary to forge the connection—”

“I’m so glad I now understand why you stabbed me,”

I said cuttingly.

“What about you? You sheltered beneath my roof as you plotted against me, watched me get struck as I bore your punishment, all the while pretending to care.”

He spoke tightly as though restraining his fury. “Was it all for Tianxia? Did you only want to use me, nothing more?”

“Yes,”

I claimed furiously. “What other reason could there be? Why would anyone care for the God of War? Your hands are soaked in blood.”

Anger made me cruel. It made me reckless and unkind . . . saying things I didn’t always mean, things I wished I could take back.

He closed the distance between us, my body alight at his nearness. As much as I wanted to back away, my pride wouldn’t let me—and deep down, part of me still craved this feeling his presence stirred. Let me be a fool in my mind, as long as he never knew it.

“If so, why did you plead for mercy for me on the Dragon Platform? Why defend me if you didn’t care at all?”

“Because, as your queen puts it so well,”

I said bitterly, “‘In gratitude lies the swiftest route to trust.’”

His gaze seared. “Yet how ungrateful you are. Without me, you would have died twice over.”

“Oh, I’m very grateful that you did all this to preserve the Divine Pearl Lotus, and your own life. I will strive to repay such generosity in kind.”

I spoke through clenched teeth and only a madman—or an arrogant immortal—might imagine I meant it.

As light flared in his eyes, I stepped back, suddenly afraid of myself as much as him. My heart was beating too quickly, it was becoming harder to breathe. “Enough with the ‘pleasantries,’”

I said. “I know you want the lotus and your sword. What will you offer in exchange? Speak honestly, for the first time since we met.”

He didn’t reply right away, his throat convulsing. “That’s not all I want from you.”

“Immortals want everything, don’t they? Was your pride hurt that your plan didn’t work? I don’t intend to be another trophy for you.”

I lifted my chin. “I’ve told you all I offer; no more. What are your terms?”

He smiled with such assurance, I resisted the impulse to strike him. “Let’s start with an easy one. Return my sword that you stole.”

“How interesting, that you’d choose your weapon over your life.”

I couldn’t resist mocking him.

“I’m not choosing one over the other. I want both, but the sword is the easier one, since the Divine Pearl Lotus requires—”

“Me to be a greater fool than I’ve already been?”

As my fingers curled, his gaze slid to them like he was attuned to my every movement.

“Strike me, if you want.”

He leaned toward me. “If it will make you feel better. If it will help us get past the sniping and onto how we can help each other.”

I started toward him, not needing another invitation. As I flung my palm at his face, he caught it effortlessly—then spun me around, my back against his chest as his other arm locked across my waist.

“You . . . liar,”

I gasped, struggling to pull free. “You said I could hit you.”

“I didn’t say I would let you.”

The press of his body, his hand clasped around mine, his breath against my ear—I was trembling from rage, fighting the heat that swept through me, hating how I both wanted and loathed this with every fiber of my being. Of far greater danger was the way something about him called to me still, evoking emotions that should have died the moment his dagger slid into my chest. I couldn’t undo the time we’d spent together—where in trying to draw him closer, I’d lost a little of myself too. I had to guard myself better . . . until I could hate him as I needed to.

“Let me go.”

My voice was harsh.

He released me then, his face somber. “One day, you will want to stay.”

Those words pierced me, but I hardened myself. “I’ll trade your sword back to you for the shield that belongs to Tianxia,”

I offered coldly. “One weapon for the other.”

He tilted his head back. “Is that all?”

“I wasn’t finished. I want your queen’s assurance of my safety and the mandate to rule. While you are here, you must do or say nothing to indicate there is a rift between Tianxia and the Golden Desert.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Are you having trouble at court? There is no rift except between you and me, you and Her Majesty.”

I ignored his taunt. “Do you agree to these terms?”

“No. But I look forward to a long negotiation.”

Before I could reply, someone knocked on the door. Yifei entered, halting at the sight of the God of War. Her hands shook, jolting the tray she held, a few lychees falling from the bowl and rolling toward him.

“I’m sorry,”

she stammered as though afraid.

He bent down to gather the fruit, then placed them back on her tray. “There is nothing to be sorry about.”

He spoke as gently to her as he did to his own attendants, and I hated that I knew this about him.

As Yifei smiled at him, wide-eyed, I cleared my throat meaningfully. At once, she spun to me. “My lady, the First Advisor is waiting for you to join him for the afternoon meal.”

Chengyin was being thoughtful, sending her to remind me. “Tell Chengyin—tell the First Advisor, I will join him shortly.”

As she bowed and left, the God of War faced me, a dangerous glitter in his eyes. “Why does the First Advisor presume himself entitled to your company?”

“Why shouldn’t he? He is more entitled to it than you.”

My answer was intended to infuriate, though it might have worked too well, the heat of his anger surging through the air.

As I turned to leave, he moved to block my path. “We must speak.”

“Later.”

I resisted the urge to snap. “I must go. They are waiting for me.”

His lips pressed into an uncompromising line. “Then I will accompany you.”

“I don’t recall asking you to,” I said.

“I claim the privilege of a guest.”

“Guests have to be invited.”

He smiled widely, devastatingly. “You invited me, did you forget? Twice, as a matter of fact. The first time when you disparaged my home, and the second . . . only a few days ago.”

I would welcome you to Tianxia.

I cursed myself—aloud. He was right; I could not refuse. Moreover, he’d hosted me once, although his motives had been self-serving. As Zhangwei looked around my room, his eyes slid over my dressing table strewn with discarded ornaments, the clothes I’d worn last night slung over a stand, then lingering on my bed, the sheets still rumpled.

His gaze darkened—an answering heat rushing into my face. He shouldn’t be here. These were my private rooms where I slept, bathed, and dressed, where only Yifei and those closest to me were allowed in. A thought unsettled me—could he sense the sword? While it was hidden in my study, I dared not take the chance. He strode to a corner of the room, picking up the comb I’d tossed aside—his gift. As he brushed the dust away, magic flickered from his fingers, repairing the scratched lacquer.

He handed it to me, but I shook my head. “Not everything can be fixed that easily.”

His expression was unreadable as he tucked the comb into his belt. I suppressed the twinge in my chest. “You may stay as my guest,”

I told him grudgingly. “Explore the grounds as you wish, with one exception. This room.”

I was starting to enjoy setting rules for him, though no one could bind him to them.

He strode to the door and held it open for me, a mocking lilt in his tone as he said, “I thank the Lady of Tianxia for her gracious hospitality.”