Page 49 of Immortal

After they left, I headed to my grandfather’s altar in the corner of the study, crafted of ebony and mother-of-pearl. I brushed away the incense ash that had fallen over his ancestral tablet, replacing the flowers in the vase with freshly cut ones. Yifei could have done all this, but it was a privilege to care for his memory. Lighting three sticks, I knelt down and whispered a prayer, not to those undeserving gods—but to wherever my grandfather’s spirit was, a wish for him to find peace, to lend me strength for what lay ahead. My grief had not lessened but was changing—growing gentler, weaving nostalgia to blunt the sharpness of loss. Rising to my feet, I pressed the incense sticks into the brazier. Could Grandfather see them or smell their fragrance? Or did we perform such tasks for ourselves, a fragile comfort to lessen the guilt that we still lived?

I didn’t have these answers. But as though someone had heard me, a gentle breeze darted through the window, the wind chime breaking into a delicate melody. I stood straighter, my resolve hardening. This was not a game I could sacrifice; winning was more than a matter of pride. The immortal had underestimated me; he didn’t know what I was capable of. This time, I would show him, and victory would not be claimed by the God of War.

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?”