Page 80 of Immortal

“We can’t stay,” he told me. “The Ancient Grandmaster won’t risk the Wuxin following our trail here. But he will send word to Queen Caihong. She’ll find a way to break the spell over the skies. We just need to keep hidden until then.”

“What of Tianxia?”

“The barrier I crafted is undisturbed.” His gaze was penetrating. “I remember all my promises to you. Just as I hope you remember yours to me.”

A reminder of what I owed him. I nodded slowly. There was a new urgency to return what I had taken if I could, to be free of these powerful beings and their deadly games. Soon, I told myself. Then I’d never see him again—the thought a stone in my chest.

He was staring at my robe, streaked with blood from where he’d carried me. Only then did I notice the gash across his palm, though the wound on his shoulder appeared healed. Plucking a handkerchief from the pile of garments on the table, I took his hand and wrapped the silk around the cut. He did not pull away, his large hand cradled between both of mine. As I bound his wound, blood seeped through the cloth.

“Is this what the mortals do?” he asked.

“We don’t have your advantages.” I released his hand, suddenly feeling foolish. “You could have just healed yourself.”

“I like this more.” A small smile played on his lips as he inspected my clumsy bandage. “Why did you do this for me?”

“I don’t like to see you bleed,” I said at last.

He was studying me; did he sense a difference in my manner? Trust was not easily yielded, and even harder to restore. But I didn’t want to just question him in my mind, to imagine the worst—I wanted to know, and for him to tell me.

“I heard you speaking with the Ancient Grandmaster,” I began. “I heard what you asked. Was it about the Divine Pearl Lotus?”

He shook his head. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me. Don’t give me a reason to doubt.”

The corners of his mouth tightened like he was suppressing his words, or choosing them carefully. “I can’t.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Because you think I won’t understand? Or because you’re afraid I won’t agree? Either way, how can I trust you?”

He took my hands, holding them between his . . . and I was so weak, I didn’t pull away. “I swear on my life, you can trust me with yours—I will guard it better than my own. I will keep all my promises to you: those from yesterday, today, and those to come. One day, I will tell you anything you wish. But the time is not now.”

He spoke quietly, sincerely, yet these words left me cold. I wanted to trust him; I wanted what we had to be real, but I couldn’t let my desires color the truth. Somehow, I had to uncover what lay in his heart. And if I was wrong this time, if he betrayed me—he would learn that I could be every bit as heartless as him. I’d walk away and never look back, even if it broke my heart.

Even if it killed him.

29

The next morning, the mansion was deserted, the Ancient Grandmaster nowhere in sight.

“How do we thank him or bid him farewell?” I asked.

“When you have lived as long as the Ancient Grandmaster, you grow weary of farewells,” Zhangwei replied.

We walked a long way through a bamboo forest, the leaves rustling with the wind. I was glad for the clothes left in my chamber last night: a blue silk dress embroidered with lilac flowers on the hem and an outer robe in a darker shade. The climate here seemed colder than back home. Once I turned to find the trees swaying in our wake, the stalks weaving into each other until all trace of our path had gone. Even if I tried to return, I wouldn’t know where to begin.

The path sloped down, a steep descent. I had to hold on to the bamboo to avoid slipping as we made our way. Ahead, a rock wall loomed, covered in moss. As Zhangwei placed his palm upon it, the stone seemed to soften, undulating like churned mud.

“We’ll have to go through this.”

“I prefer the way we came,” I said faintly.

“That path is gone now,” he told me, extending his hand.

I gripped it, holding my breath, trying not to think of what would happen should the stone solidify, entombing us alive. As we stepped into the rock, it felt slick over my skin, cool and heavy. Yet as we emerged on the other side, no trace was left on us, not even a fleck of dust. Sunlight fell upon my face as I dragged in a long breath. Behind us, the stone surface rippled, then hardened once more. It seemed impossible that we’d come through here.

Kunlun Mountain towered behind us, like we’d walked the length of a dragon this morning—from its head, along its spine, to emerge at the tail.

“The Ancient Grandmaster warned that the Wuxin are searching Kunlun,” Zhangwei said. “We must get away from here, as far as we can—until Queen Caihong sends reinforcements.”