Page 97 of Immortal

“We fade. We lose our physical forms. We become little more than these spirits in the river.” She glanced at the cuts on my hands where I’d struck the ground in the temple. “We have a few healers in the palace. Their power is limited but they can treat such injuries.”

“Can’t you heal me?” I asked curiously.

“It’s not a skill that many of us developed. What need did we have to mend flesh and blood before?”

Silence fell over us once more. “Why was I sent to the temple, Aunt Shou? Why was this done to me?” I wanted to hear her answer.

“Now you are a part of our family forever.” There was such warmth in her voice, I might have believed her—if I didn’t know how well she lied.

“I want the truth,” I said bluntly.

She sighed. “That was only part of it. We need you to open the gateway. Dalian has almost exhausted himself in his attempts. The crack he’s pried apart won’t hold for much longer. As the Lady of Tianxia, as one of us—you can open the gateway to secure our people’s future.”

I lowered my gaze to hide my revulsion. She was both cunning and careful in her answers, speaking only of my mortal past. But it wasn’t my mortal heritage they wanted. I was Queen Caihong’s daughter, the only one who had a chance of lifting the enchantment crafted with her magic—the one that ran in my veins. And they would never let me go, not until I’d done what they wanted.

“Can I open it?” I asked.

“Yes, with the power you now have.” She spoke like she already sensed it. “Do you know how to use it?”

“A little,” I said carefully. “It’s unfamiliar, though the God of War instructed me before, showing me his magic.” I had to pretend I knew nothing of my powers, that they were new.

She nodded. “I will help you. What matters most is that you’re safe and well. I kept my promise to your grandfather to look after you; he would have been pleased at how things worked out.”

He would not. She was deluding herself, trying to excuse her deception. Grandfather would have throttled her for what she’d tried to do to me.

Live a good life, Liyen, he’d told me. He would not have wanted the blood of countless mortals and immortals on my hands.

“What of your appetites? How else do you feel different?” she probed.

I repressed a shudder. “I don’t feel much right now. I’m more tired than hungry. My head hurts, my body aches.”

Aunt Shou reached out to brush the side of my head. The affectionate gesture sent a pang through my chest. “You are the first. No mortal has ever become one of us. If anything confuses you, come to me.”

So, she could craft more lies? The less I said, the better. They had no reason to believe their plan had failed—unless I gave it to them. Beyond Zhangwei, no one else knew of the Tree of Everlasting Life’s gift, the only thing that could have kept me safe.

“I’m not confused,” I replied with a smile. “I remember Grandfather and Tianxia. You and Chengyin, too.”

She nodded gravely. “That is good. We should cherish such ties.”

“What of Chengyin?” I pressed. “Will Lord Dalian release him?”

“I will protect Chengyin. You must trust me,” she said. “Now that you are one of us, Dalian will feel more at ease.”

We didn’t speak for the rest of journey, and I was glad for the silence. Memories descended relentlessly, a confounding stream . . . years of recollections unfolding at breathless speed, one merging into the other until I could not pick them apart.

One question echoed in my mind: Who was I now? What had I become? Not even the Mirror of Destiny knew. Was I a mortal with an immortal’s spirit, or an immortal with a mortal’s heart? And as I touched my lock of silvery hair, I wondered at this trace of the waters of death that had marked me by the Wuxin’s treachery. It didn’t matter; none of it would control me. I was my past and my present—and I would forge my own future.

36

Once in my room, I closed the door, then pushed a heavy desk in front of it. A mortal habit, for what could keep these powerful beings out? I scrubbed myself in the bath, inhaling the rose-scented steam. All the while, flashes of memories darted without order or meaning, yielding more questions than answers. After the bath, I dressed myself quickly. The robe stuck to my damp skin, my wet hair blotting the silk as I stared at myself in the mirror.

It was my face; it had always been my face. Any similarities had just been obscured when I was mortal, like a veil now torn away. My name came back to me too . . . except I wasn’t her anymore: I was Liyen. There was a humming in my body, a reverberation that reached into my bones, a newfound warmth coursing through my veins. I reached instinctively for the energy, bracing for a tussle—but it flowed into my grasp effortlessly. Everything I’d learned from before was returning to me now—my training, the remembrance of my magic as familiar as swimming after a long break. Some things, one never forgets.

“Ice,” I whispered, my magic drawn like shining threads from the lifeforce buried in my mind. Frost speckled my fingertips, aglow with an azure light—yet I did not feel cold; our own magic could not harm us. “More.” I was eager to test my boundaries, to feel that rush of power through my body. Spears of ice formed at my fingertips, breaking off to slam against the wall before me.

As I released my hold, the ice melted away, leaving scratches in the stone. Power was a heady thing, especially after being without it. Yet I sensed the difference—my magic blunted, not as strong as before. Part of my lifeforce had been irrevocably damaged, which the Divine Pearl Lotus could not undo. But I wouldn’t regret the little I’d lost. I was alive; I was myself.

I breathed deeply, fatigue pressing on me. Maybe I was still unused to channeling magic, or I had to learn to adjust to my new limits. As I lay on the bed, I slipped my dagger under the pillow—a necessary precaution in an enemy’s home. And when I closed my eyes, sleep claimed me at once.