Page 115 of Immortal

“I will.” I bowed my head, hating this, and hating myself for it.

But victory was not always a straight path, the one of honor and glory. In a storm, one had to bend with the wind to remain standing—to live, to fight another day.

And the storm was upon us now.

42

The barge rocked to the rhythm of the water as a thin breeze wound through the air. This time there were no musicians, food, or wine. Aunt Shou sat in a chair, clad in dark purple brocade. Her eyes followed Dalian dully. Did she see just her son or also my friend whom she’d abandoned?

Soldiers surrounded the room, quelling all thought of flight—though the only way off this barge was to plunge into the Wangchuan River, these lethal waters that had almost claimed my life. For an immortal, though, it was said just one cup would steal a lifetime of memories, and I dreaded to think what immersing oneself in its waters might do.

Dalian strode to his throne, Lin and Mei trailing behind him. He was staring at me with the appraising look of a farmer considering the purchase of a beast. I found myself folding inward instinctively.

“I confess to being disappointed,” he drawled. “Mother spoke so highly of you, I expected a great beauty, someone with more impressive abilities than what you’ve shown.” His eyes glinted with malice. “Mother hoped that I would consider you for my bride.”

I’d rather die. I suppressed my retort, the anger that choked me. But I shouldn’t ignore his slights; the Lady of Tianxia would never stand for such humiliation. After all, he’d said we were “equals” now, though he’d meant none of it.

I smiled brightly; indifference would be the greatest affront. “Lord Dalian, I don’t think we’d suit either. Moreover, I’m already spoken for.”

His eyes thinned. “Do you prefer a weak mortal?”

“I am agreeing with you,” I said innocently, leashing my temper with great effort. “Given your disappointment, it should be a relief that you don’t have to tie yourself to me.”

His jaw tightened, his lips rolled almost all the way in. He didn’t want me, but he’d wanted to hurt me with the taunt. Behind him, Lin’s shoulders quivered like she was suppressing a laugh.

Tired of being around him, of the mask I had to wear in his presence, I rose and bowed. “Excuse me, Lord Dalian. I would like some fresh air.”

Without waiting for his reply, I headed to the prow, relieved when the soldiers did not stop me. Tonight, the skies burned like the fires of a forge. A flapping sound rushed through the air, the void birds leading the way, their pale feathers gleaming. Despite the barge’s size, it swiftly outpaced the other boats which trailed after us like fireflies in the night. The waters of Wangchuan rippled beneath, beautiful yet haunting—those green lights twining through the inky waves like strands of onyx and jade.

The lines of an old rhyme surfaced in my mind:

Wangchuan waters, a curse and a gift,

A sip eases strife, casting sorrow adrift.

A cup erases the past, severing all ties,

To swim in its depths is to forget, to die.

If I were a stronger person, more valiant—I should dive into the river. Without me, Dalian could not open the gateway. But I was afraid for myself and for Chengyin. While some might think it was a worthwhile sacrifice—our lives for many—I could not do it, not while there was a chance to stop this. I wouldn’t sacrifice my kingdom—but neither would I stop fighting for Zhangwei, Chengyin, or myself, for the future we all deserved.

Yet now, trapped on this vessel in the bleakness of night—it seemed hopeless. I closed my eyes, reaching for calm. Zhangwei would be making his way toward the gateway. While he hadn’t anticipated us arriving so soon, few things caught him off guard—he wouldn’t miss this trail of boats. And I was not wholly alone here; Lin and Mei would help me if they could.

Footsteps padded from behind me. I braced myself to endure Dalian’s loathsome presence. It was wearying to strike the balance between not challenging him outright and not caving either—to act like I was one of them, his ally rather than his enemy.

But maybe to him the distinction was blurred; I’d seen how he treated his allies.

“Child, when you have that look on your face, I worry.”

It was Aunt Shou. I wished I didn’t think of her that way still, but I couldn’t help myself. She came to stand beside me, her presence familiar, though it was like we were strangers.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Aunt Shou.” I smiled warmly to ease her suspicions. “Sometimes I just like to be alone. Particularly when the company grows . . . stifling.”

“I did hope you would like each other,” she said, shaking her head. “You would be a good influence on him.”

My laugh was real; it was hard to pretend with her. “Aunt Shou, do you believe anyone could influence him against his inclination? I’m sure you’ve already tried.” I added, “If Chengyin had behaved like this, you’d have thrashed him till he couldn’t sit down. Yet you make far more allowances for Dalian.”

Her lips trembled as she mashed them together. “It’s not easy to be a ruler, as you know, to bear the weight of your people’s future. Dalian is strained from his efforts because he tries to do too much. Since his childhood, he’s been sensitive to criticism, it makes him lash out.”