Page 110 of Immortal

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.