Page 89 of Immortal

Wuxin crowded the place, not the wraithlike forms that had invaded my home. The ones here wore finer garments, dressed in muted shades of blue and brown and plum, a foil to their surroundings that were flushed with color. Despite the crowd, the tables closest to the dais remained empty, as was the gilded throne upon it. Strange, when the places nearest to the seat of power were usually the first to be filled. Were the Wuxin afraid of their lord?

Just one woman stood beside the throne, draped in violet brocade, a long strand of pearls around her neck. Snow-white hair framed her face that she lifted to me—a scream catching in my throat.

Aunt Shou.

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It couldn’t be her. Had Aunt Shou been possessed too? But while Lord Dalian’s control of Chengyin was a precise mirror, there were unsettling differences here: Aunt Shou’s gray hair was now pure white, though still coiled in her preferred style, her clear eyes devoid of the filminess of age, and the spots that had speckled her face and arms were gone like they’d been washed away. Worse yet was the way she looked at me with such knowing—she was Aunt Shou, if time had reversed itself.

“How is this possible?” The question slipped from me; I was still grasping for any other possibility—that she had a twin, that she’d been tricked or even bewitched? Because the alternative, that she had betrayed my grandfather and me all these years, sent a shaft of unimaginable pain through my chest.

Aunt Shou clicked her tongue as she usually did when she was impatient. “Trust your eyes, Liyen—the truth before you.”

Her hard tone, her cool gaze . . . she didn’t seem like Aunt Shou anymore, her softness cut away like the flesh of a fruit, revealing its stony pit.

“Who are you?” My voice fractured over the words.

“This is my real home; these are my people. Dalian is my son,” she replied.

I shook my head in confusion. “I thought you had a daughter before Chengyin?”

Her eyes clouded as though she still struggled with these memories. “My daughter is dead. I just never mentioned Dalian; it would have raised too many questions.”

I stared at her, feeling a tightness within. Grandfather and I had trusted her, we’d loved her—and all this while she’d been working against us. We were fools to have never questioned how she knew so much of the immortals, her dislike of them, how she’d nudged Grandfather to confront them, her interest in the lotus and even the God of War. It was so with those we grew up with, who came into our lives before our hearts were bruised and hardened. Before we knew better.

Anger broke through the disappointment and shock. “It was you who poisoned me with the waters of the Wangchuan,” I said flatly. “You sent the Winged Devils after me, both at the wall and the queen’s palace. Why did you want to kill me?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it a hundred times before. While the waters of the Wangchuan would bring death to any mortal, there is one cure—”

“The Divine Pearl Lotus,” I finished, almost choking on my rage. The threads were falling into place, weaving a picture far more tangled and intricate than anything I could have imagined. “You knew about it from the start—when it bloomed, because Grandfather confided in you, and that he was going to surrender it to the immortal queen. Is that why you poisoned me, to make him give it to me instead? Why not just take the lotus for yourself?”

“It had to be you.” Her tone dipped with something like regret. “The Divine Pearl Lotus grew from your grandfather’s care, a treasure of the Mortal Realm, maybe the greatest one that ever existed. Your grandfather was the only one who could harvest the flower without it wilting, he was the only one who could gift it.”

“And he would only give it to Queen Caihong, or to me.” How painful this choice must have been for him.

“Why do you want the lotus?” I demanded. “Was it because you didn’t want Queen Caihong to have it? Or because of its link with the gateway?”

“The immortals don’t deserve it; they don’t deserve the cure, especially not the merciless God of War. Let them all die,” she said bitterly. “They murdered my people. They are wicked and false, wearing a mask of benevolence when they are as greedy, ambitious, and conniving as those they accuse.”

“The immortals helped us,” I argued. “It was your people who invaded my kingdom, who were killing us.”

“We had no choice. We were dying,” she said. “Wasting away to nothing but dust. It’s why we took physical form, because it strengthened us. We had to fight for our own future.”

A weight sank over me. Maybe that was the tragedy—both sides believing unflinchingly in their own rightness, that they’d been wronged by the other. Maybe they’d fought so relentlessly because they believed it was for their survival. And my kingdom had paid the highest price of all.

“Aunt Shou”—it didn’t feel right to call her that, but old habits were hard to break—“was everything false? What about Chengyin? Did you plan for Grandfather to die?” The possibility revolted me.

Her mouth quivered, the harshness fading from her expression. “I was still grieving for my child when I saw Chengyin for the first time, abandoned and helpless, reviled for nothing more than superstition. I couldn’t bear it.” She drew in a long breath, her chest heaving. “As for your grandfather, he was a true friend to me. I didn’t think the immortals would kill him; I didn’t expect his heart to give out. His death is one I will forever regret.”

Her sorrow did not blunt my anger; it would not bring my grandfather back. “How did you disguise yourself all these years? Why did no one in Tianxia know who you were?”

“Such magic runs in my bloodline,” she said. “It’s why Dalian can usurp another’s body, a rare ability among us.”

“Another’s body?” I repeated scathingly. “Chengyin is your son.”

Her face fell but she said nothing. I wanted to ask more, to learn all I could. But I was drained, sick to the heart. I would never forgive her betrayal, for abandoning Chengyin to her vicious son.

Lord Dalian—the false Chengyin—strode into the hall, his hair pulled into an ornate gold headpiece. Two women followed him bearing weapons, one of whom was Miss Lin, the short-haired Wuxin who’d attacked my home. The other was a taller woman with curly hair, though they shared similar features. Were they his personal guards? Captain Rao followed after them, a sneer on his face as he passed me.