Page 38 of Immortal

“What about a lock of your hair?” he suggested with a smile.

I nodded, pulling out my dagger to cut my hair. As the black strands fell away like shorn grass, he gathered and bound them with a silk cord, then tucked it between the folds of his robe.

This simple exchange seemed to bind us closer, startling in its intimacy. Something shifted in my heart, the intensity of the heat softening to a radiant warmth that spilled through me. I would have given him almost anything he asked for, as long as he kept his word to help Tianxia.

What were we now? What was he to me? I no longer knew, just that this moment felt real, precious . . . and, weak creature that I was, I did not want it to end.

14

The day of the pledging ceremony dawned pale and gray. Rain fell in an incessant sheet, so light it appeared a weaving of mist.

“Does it rain often here?” I asked Weina, who was pinning up my hair with sticks of jade.

When she was satisfied, she slid a comb into the coils, the one Zhangwei had given me. “Only if Her Majesty wishes it.”

The queen’s mood must be grim indeed if the skies were any reflection, and I hoped my kingdom would remain unscathed. My hands were cold as I clasped them together. Today, I must set myself against Queen Caihong, to defy her command by withholding my pledge—a terrifying thought. But if I did not, nothing would ever change.

My people could not afford the endless patience of immortals; we didn’t have the time.

Weina picked up a robe and shook it out. As the silk billowed, the fragrance of sandalwood suffused the air. The cloth was the hue of dawn, with shades of rose and vermilion melding into each other, tiny gold stars embroidered on the skirt. When Weina draped it over my shoulders, the hem fell to my ankles. I was no stranger to extravagance, but these garments possessed an ethereal beauty that could not be achieved by mortal hands.

“The dress suits you,” she told me.

“Her Majesty is generous,” I intoned, then added with more sincerity, “Thank you for your care of me.”

“It’s my duty,” she replied.

I thought of the scorn the other immortals had shown me. “Kindness is never a duty.”

Weina smiled as she picked up a lacquered box and flicked its clasp open. Strands of pearls twined among rubies and sapphires, jade bangles as translucent as ice, diamond rings that glittered like wintry rainbows. Just one of these might have fed a family in Tianxia for a decade, but here they were strewn as carelessly as pebbles.

“Are these jewels mined from your realm?”

She nodded. “There are mountains of jade in the Phoenix Kingdom, the Eastern Sea cultivates coral and pearls in their gardens. Gold and silver are gathered from riverbeds that never run dry. While such treasures are rare in your world, here they are cherished simply for their beauty.”

With their abundance of wealth and power, the immortals did not need us. My resolve hardened as I glanced at my sword, wishing I could bring it. But only the God of War was allowed to bear a weapon to meet the queen.

I picked up a pair of tourmaline pins, their pointed ends glinting as I slid them into my hair. Weina frowned; I’d marred her immaculate work, but this could be a useful tool if all else failed. Outside the room, Zhangwei was leaning against the wall. A black brocade coat was layered over his robe of silver and white. His long hair was pulled into a jade headpiece, his sword strapped to his side. As his gaze swept across my dress to my face, lingering on his comb—a fierce light shone in his eyes.

The space between us seemed to tighten. A flutter stirred in my chest, so different from just days ago, when he’d evoked dread. His words from yesterday echoed through my mind, his promise of support more valuable than any treasure here. My lingering resentment and hostility had faded, along with my suspicion—any attempt to cling to them now felt hollow. There was a new closeness between us, an awakening trust. These feelings were unfamiliar: warm and bright. I didn’t understand them myself . . . except they made me feel alive. Maybe the best things in life had no reason and we should just cherish them as the gift they were.

But the dangerous thing was, I was beginning to want more—to reach for him without guilt, to touch him as I desired, listening out for the sound of his voice, the tread of his step. Was this love? I cast the question aside, suddenly afraid. To win the God of War’s support was wise—to fall in love with him would ruin me.

As he came toward me, I smiled at him. “Doesn’t the God of War have more pressing matters to attend to than to serve as a mortal’s escort?” It was what I’d said to him the day he took me from Tianxia.

“No,” he said, coming to my side. “I want to escort you.”

Was it because I was leaving soon? I couldn’t dwell on it, not with everything at stake. We walked in silence toward the throne room, yet I was acutely aware of his presence, his every move, the way his eyes darted around to assess each room for danger, and how they returned to me each time.

We crossed a bridge, aglitter in the morning light. From here, the Dragon Platform gleamed below—deserted—the crowd gathered in the throne room instead. Today, I was the planned “spectacle,” and they would be getting a performance they did not expect. I stiffened at the thought but made myself keep pace with Zhangwei.

Soldiers flanked the doors that led to Queen Caihong’s hall. The closer we drew, the heavier I felt, each step leaden and graceless.

“Don’t be nervous,” Zhangwei said.

“I am,” I confessed. “I don’t want to anger Her Majesty, but I can’t keep silent—I have to try. Nothing will be the same after this.”

“Change is always frightening.” He turned to look into my eyes. “But trust in what is real. Trust in me.”