Page 129 of Immortal

My mind worked quickly, thinking of my people. “You can offer for Tianxia to rejoin the rest of the Mortal Realm. To return our shield and bring the walls down, as was promised in the treaty.” I braced for an outright refusal.

“Tianxia strengthens us.” Her mouth tightened. “Do you know how hard it was to wrest it from the Celestial Emperor? It was only because we won the war without their aid.”

“Tianxia is not a pawn. The mortals deserve to live their own lives, not subject to another’s whims and demands.” I stared at her unwaveringly. “The storms must cease. Rules must be set to protect them from the immortals. Mortal lives are as precious as yours.”

Her eyes flashed. “Are you negotiating with me, Daughter?”

I clasped my hands and bowed, sensing I’d pushed her as far as I could. It was enough for now to have seeded the idea, though I wouldn’t give up. “I will submit a formal petition through the God of War.”

Gently, she touched the lock of white hair tucked behind my ear, her eyes warm and bright. “I’ve asked the gardeners to plant lotuses in our ponds. They are waiting for you to see them bloom—as am I.”

My eyes stung. I cried then, raw gasps breaking from my throat. Such longing filled me to walk in the halls of my childhood, to sleep in my own bed. How it hurt that I couldn’t.

Not yet. But one day, I promised myself.

Silence fell over us, the wind blowing through our hair, our skirts fluttering. I would always remember this moment, carved into my heart: our closeness, our unflinching acceptance of each other . . . what made us different. What made us family.

At last she pulled away, wiping a hand over her eyes. I pressed a kiss to her cheek, my hand still clasped in hers—no longer ashamed of what she might see in me, of what I had done, of who I was.

“We will find a way, Mother.”

When I awoke in the morning, sunlight was streaming through the windows. My chest was at once hollow and filled to the brim. This was not our end; I would see my mother again.

47

The candlelight wavered, close to the end of its wick. I sat by my desk beside a pile of unread scrolls, my mind wandering. Where was Zhangwei? He’d returned to the skies over a month ago; he had his duties as I had mine—but his absence left a hollow in my heart, one that only he could fill.

After everything, I should be secure in his love. Yet when I was tired and alone, as tonight, doubt slunk in like a thief through an open window. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he’d tired of me? I was not the immortal he’d fallen in love with, not even the mortal he’d pursued. There were times I no longer knew who I was.

Yet there was so much to be grateful for. Zhangwei and I had escaped. My people were safe, the threat of the Wuxin no longer darkening our horizon. Soon, I would begin negotiations with the immortals to release Tianxia. And Chengyin had recovered, though he was still shaken from his ordeal. I had spent many mornings sitting with him in his garden before heading to court.

“Do you remember anything of your time in the Netherworld?” I had asked him.

His face had shuttered, his body flinching.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said at once, regretting having upset him.

“I want to,” he assured me. “I was there, yet I couldn’t control anything I said or did. When I tried to fight, it would hurt—the pain only easing once I stopped resisting. It was like being trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t awaken from, my mind endlessly screaming for release.”

I laid my hand over his, holding it firmly. “I’m sorry you suffered this.”

His voice dropped as he added, “The worst part was when he used me to threaten you, to hurt Mother.”

“You stopped him. If you hadn’t, we’d still be trapped in the Netherworld.”

“Only because you wouldn’t leave me.” His eyes were haunted as he raised them to mine. “Do you think Mother is well?”

The question echoed what Aunt Shou had asked me in the Netherworld. “She is stronger than any of us knew. Wiser, too. And I know she is thinking of you every day.”

“No matter who she is—Wuxin or mortal—I love her,” he’d said in a low voice. “She will always be my mother, the one who took me in when no one wanted to.”

Aunt Shou had been part of my life for so long, sometimes I caught myself looking for her when I was uncertain, expecting to hear her voice ringing out when I’d said something I should not.

“I love her too,” I admitted, for the first time since learning who she was. My anger and resentment toward Aunt Shou weren’t because she was a Wuxin, but because of her deceit. Deep down, she was the aunt I’d always known and loved, the one who’d set us free in the end.

When I first returned home, suspicious looks were cast my way, a few of the ministers whispering among themselves. Was it the subtle glow that cloaked my skin, the faint thrum of magic in my presence, the hardening of my manner? I was no longer the girl they’d condescended to, who’d tried to fight back in her own way—though I missed her at times. When Minister Guo led the furtive calls to cast me from the throne, I’d moved swiftly, stripping him of his position and banishing him from the palace.

The courtiers no longer made me feel nervous—their quarrels, once my bane, were now a nuisance. The threat of war, of death, being trapped in Lord Dalian’s court, had shifted my perspective. It didn’t matter how good a ruler I was if those meant to support me chose to undermine me instead, if my rulings failed to be implemented. This court held the future of Tianxia in its hands, and those who did not value the honor had no right to be here. While the court was still in turmoil in the wake of Minister Guo’s departure, I ruthlessly appointed new ministers on merit alone, ignoring family connections or influence. Tradition and history should be a guide but not a yoke. If something was wrong, the past was not a reason to keep it so.