Page 39 of Immortal

He took my hand, pressing it against his chest. Through his robe, his heart thudded against my palm—my skin, for once, as cold as his. The soldiers were all staring at us, some openmouthed, but he ignored them. He did what he wanted, regardless of what others thought. I envied such assurance, recalling the mask I wore in my own court—but he had earned this respect, while I was still unproven.

Someone cleared their throat. As I pulled my hand away, a soldier stepped from the line, his brown eyes crinkling as he grinned. “Lord Zhangwei, you are setting the gossips afire today.”

Zhangwei returned his smile. “Let them talk, Lieutenant Yang. There is nothing to hide.”

“Are you Lord Zhangwei, or has a Wuxin taken over your form?” the lieutenant jested with more bravery than wisdom. Was this soldier his friend?

Zhangwei brushed the hilt of his sword. “Care to test me on the sparring field?”

Lieutenant Yang shuddered as he turned to me, greeting me with a bow—an unexpected courtesy from an immortal. “Lady of Tianxia, I’m pleased to meet you. I remember your grandfather when he visited our palace, and I was sorry to learn of his passing.”

His compassion touched me. “Grandfather spoke highly of his visit to your realm. I’m sure he would have remembered you too.”

Lieutenant Yang inclined his head, then tapped Zhangwei on the shoulder. “Her Majesty grows impatient. She’s already dispatched messengers to find you.”

“I trust you devised a suitable excuse on my behalf?”

“Lord Zhangwei, I dared not speak on your behalf, nor did I wish to anger Her Majesty out of self-preservation.” Lieutenant Yang winked as he whispered, “Reap what you sow.”

At Zhangwei’s scowl, I laughed—a welcome release to my coiled tension. But it returned in force as we entered the throne room, the doors closing after us with a decisive thud. A single lantern the size of a drum hung from the ceiling, crafted of rosewood, the silk panels painted with clouds and stars. The hall was flanked with turquoise pillars, set into the gleaming marble floor. A thick yellow carpet was thrown over it, shining as the sands of the desert.

At the far end, Queen Caihong sat on a luminous throne, carved from a single block of polished quartz. Her brocade robe gleamed like beaten gold, a thick strand of pearls clasped around her throat. On a table beside her lay a small bottle and a gleaming shield. It was exquisitely crafted: one half inlaid with sapphires that formed a river, the other a mountain set with amethyst and pearls—the Shield of Rivers and Mountains, the key to Tianxia’s freedom. Was it part of the ceremony today? My heart raced, my fingers digging into my skirt. It was so close . . . if only I could take it.

I leashed my excitement as I bowed to the queen in greeting. She gestured to Zhangwei who ascended the dais. As they spoke in hushed tones, I waited below, wishing I could hear what they were saying.

The immortals were staring at me like I was a wild animal stumbling among them. I would have staked the gold in my treasury that not one knew my name—to them I was just “the mortal.” A hollow feeling, to be among strangers, many of whom felt I was their inferior. Kindness would have been so easy to extend—a smile or greeting, as from Lieutenant Yang. In times like these, those who possessed true grace were shown from those who didn’t know its meaning. But I stood straighter, holding my head high.

When Zhangwei returned to my side, Queen Caihong faced me with a stern expression. “Lady of Tianxia, are you ready to pledge your fealty to me?”

Now the moment was upon me, I found myself tongue-tied, dread knotting in my gut. But I thought of my grandfather, his years of loyal service to the immortal queen—and how he’d been repaid. Anger flared, igniting in me the courage to speak. “Your Majesty, I am honored to stand before you. I have a proposal that I hope you will consider for Tianxia.” My words were not eloquent, but they emerged with unexpected calm.

Queen Caihong’s eyes narrowed, the courtiers whispering among themselves. Zhangwei’s face was unreadable, though I held his promise in my heart.

“A proposal?” The queen drew out the word like an insult, the embroidered phoenixes on her robe tilting their heads mockingly.

My pulse was erratic, my breathing shallow. A negotiation need not be defiance, except this was only true for those the queen believed her equals, not those whose service she expected as her due.

“Your Majesty, Tianxia was pledged to your service after the war. The wall was erected to keep us apart—”

“I do not require a history lesson,” the queen snapped.

Her condescension riled; it helped me hold my ground, when the coward in me wanted to retreat. To her, these events seemed like a few years ago, but to us, several lifetimes had passed.

“The Wuxin are no longer a threat,” I said. “In accordance with the treaty, we ask Your Majesty to begin the proceedings for the return of the Shield of Rivers and Mountains, for the walls of our kingdom to be brought down, to allow us to rejoin the rest of the Mortal Realm.”

As Queen Caihong’s eyes blazed, I rushed onward, “We will always honor Your Majesty, and will remain your loyal allies in our realm.” A slight emphasis on the word, but a world of difference—to be treated as equals, with the respect we deserved.

“Impossible,” she said harshly. “Tianxia is needed to guard Kunlun. The Wuxin can never be allowed to invade again.”

“Your Majesty, our soldiers will continue to guard Kunlun—”

A courtier scowled as he stalked forward. “It is a great privilege to serve Her Majesty. Your kingdom is honored above the rest of the Mortal Realm.”

Maybe it would be, if Queen Caihong had earned our service rather than claimed it as a trophy, left to tarnish untended. Such close-minded arrogance to believe otherwise. How did some immortals live for so long yet possess so little wisdom or empathy? Maybe their time was squandered because it held no value to them, while us mortals chased each day as though it might be our last. Immortality was their legacy, while we had to fight to leave our mark or be forgotten.

“Your Majesty, the Lady of Tianxia’s concern is valid.” It was Zhangwei who spoke. The court shifted, all attention on him. “The initial treaty was spurred by the urgency of war—the Shield of Rivers and Mountains should have been returned once the Wuxin were exiled to the Netherworld. The mortals have done their part, more than fulfilled any obligation to us. Moreover, our kingdom is stronger now, secure in alliances. Tianxia should be allowed to rejoin the Mortal Realm, whether the threat resurges or not, and we can explore a different agreement to both our benefit.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed. He’d kept his word; he’d spoken for us, despite the queen’s disapproval. Relief filled me, and something more . . . something fine and fragile. The manner of the courtiers was markedly different now—their expressions attentive, a few even nodding. Yet Queen Caihong’s mouth remained pursed like a dried plum.