Page 28 of Immortal

The soldiers shuffled anxiously, but Lord Zhangwei bowed without hesitation. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The queen’s face was a mask of cruel indifference, as though the God of War was not her most loyal warrior. When she spoke, her voice rang clear. “Bring the mortal. Let her see what her actions have wrought.”

10

Since Queen Caihong’s visit, an uneasiness festered inside me. The queen was every bit as merciless as I’d expected—even to the one who was high in her favor, a pillar of her kingdom’s might. Dread sank over me at the thought of going to her palace, despite the lure of what I might find. And something else gnawed at me—the God of War’s protection. Though I hadn’t asked this of him, my guilt did not lessen. I needed to harden myself; I had to learn not to care.

I pulled on a white robe embroidered with orchids, then headed to the hall for breakfast. I’d missed dinner—my mood bleak, too tired to spar with the immortal. He was likely glad for it, maybe resenting me for forcing him into a confrontation with his monarch.

The God of War was sitting at the table, dressed formally in a black brocade robe, embroidered with a pattern of squares in gold. His hair was coiled into a topknot, the severity of the style somehow enhancing the sculpted planes of his face. As he lifted a cup to his mouth, Ningxi set the food before him: bowls of steaming soybean milk, crisp pancakes filled with sweetened bean paste, and glutinous rice dumplings wrapped in bamboo leaves—my favorite type, cooked with pork, mushrooms, and salted egg yolk.

I stilled, contemplating flight, but the god’s eyes flicked toward me. “Running away again?” he asked, an edge to his tone. “I didn’t think you were a coward.”

“Don’t call me a coward.” Squaring my shoulders, I stalked into the room, taking the seat across from him. “After yesterday, I thought you’d prefer not to see me.”

“I invited you to dine because I wanted to see you,” he replied. “I don’t change my mind that easily.”

His answer surprised me. In the silence, Lord Zhangwei placed a rice dumpling onto my plate, cutting the string that bound the leaves. As his long fingers deftly unwrapped it, I imagined them curled around the hilt of a sword.

I didn’t want his courtesy; I didn’t need my resolve blunted. It was safer if my emotions remained untangled. Even though Lord Zhangwei had saved me, he was an immortal, not a friend . . . and certainly not someone I could trust. Despite the seed of obligation that had sprouted—I must yank it out, discard it before it grew into a hindrance.

I lifted the teapot and filled his cup—not to serve him, but to repay each kindness with one of my own. It might lessen my confusion to think of it as a trade; it might make me care less.

As I ate, I suppressed the urge to ask about the South Courtyard, afraid of stirring his anger, of reminding him how I’d stolen the key. A memory flashed of how I’d fallen on top of him, heat creeping over my face.

“It is too warm here?” His tone was soft, his gaze riveted on me.

“Yes, it’s grown stifling.” I took a sip of tea, ignoring the coolness of the morning air.

He smiled, a knowing one that chafed at me. “The Dragon Platform is set outdoors. If you don’t like the heat, you should join the spectators in the shade.”

“No.” I looked at him then. “I will stand with you.”

Something flared in his eyes. “Why?”

“Why did you accept the punishment on my behalf?” The question slipped out, one I shouldn’t have asked.

His fingers toyed with the rim of his cup. “Would you rather I let Her Majesty punish you? One strike upon the Dragon Platform could flay the flesh from your bones.”

“I’m not afraid,” I lied, recoiling inside.

“You should be.” He took a bite of a pancake, the edges crackling. The impending punishment seemed to have little effect on his appetite. “Our realm is dangerous for mortals; a slight injury could be your death. You must stay on your guard, be cautious—be afraid.”

An unexpected sentiment from the God of War, one that pried a little of me apart. “I am afraid,” I admitted in a low voice. “I wish I wasn’t.”

“You gave no sign of it. Not yesterday, not even when we faced the Winged Devils,” he told me. “Hide it if you must, but don’t be ashamed of it. Fear keeps you safe, it keeps you alive.”

“Are you afraid when you face an enemy? When you fight?”

“Sometimes you learn to hide something so well, it’s lost even to yourself,” he said slowly, like he was sharing something intimate.

It was becoming harder to hold his gaze. I looked away, using my chopsticks to break the rice dumpling into chunks. “When do we leave for the palace today?”

“Soon.” His mouth slid into a hard smile. “Such events are typically held before the afternoon meal. It whets the appetite.”

“You make it sound like entertainment.”

“Many find pleasure in watching blood spilled when it’s not their own.”