Page 45 of Immortal

“Yes,” Chengyin replied. “Food and provisions. Shelters are being built for those who lost their homes.”

“Later, they will need support for replanting their crops.” I hesitated before asking, “Were there any fatalities?”

“Several villagers were swept away,” Minister Hu replied somberly. “Most are presumed dead.”

“Send more soldiers to search for the missing; prepare aid for their families. We must help bear their burdens. Inform me as soon as we have more news,” I told him, my voice leaden.

“What of Your Ladyship’s news?” Minister Guo’s smile masked his malice. “How was Your Ladyship’s visit to the Immortal Realm?”

“Everything proceeded as planned,” I lied with a straight face. “But I was forced to leave earlier than intended, when intruders attacked the queen’s palace.”

“Who would dare attack the immortals?” Minister Hu asked.

“They are called the Winged Devils. But the immortals’ forces are strong, they are in no danger.” Against my will, the memory of how the God of War fought slid into my mind, his ferocity and grace. How would he fare without his sword? The thought pricked, when there should only be glee.

Shaking myself, I said, “For now, I only want to learn of any urgent matters here that require attention.”

“The court has managed exceedingly well in your absence, Your Ladyship,” Minister Guo said silkily.

Minister Dao added, “If Your Ladyship is satisfied, we would be honored to continue sharing your burdens at court—to handle the petitions so Your Ladyship may pursue other matters that she enjoys more.”

A flagrant attempt to grasp power. Had the ministers found a way to work together? More than greed, this was an intended slight, one I would not meekly ignore. Not today of all days, after confronting the immortal queen, being stabbed by the God of War, then chased by monsters.

“Minister Dao, I want to be here,” I said decisively. “Don’t presume to know my preferences. Your duties will revert to what they were, and all past petitions will be reviewed when I have the time.” My tone emulated the way Queen Caihong had spoken to me.

His face twisted with anger, but he folded into a bow. “Forgive me, Your Ladyship. I only have your best interests at heart.”

Behind him, his accomplices exchanged furtive glances, their lips pursed. They thought me weak and malleable before, now they judged me as vicious and sharp-tongued. It was better this way. From the side of the hall, Aunt Shou cleared her throat, a warning to remain calm. When had she entered? It was a delicate balance, weaving one’s influence over a reluctant court but not yanking the threads hard enough to tempt rebellion. While I was far from perfect, I was beginning to believe I’d find my own rhythm.

I straightened, almost wishing I’d worn one of my gold headdresses. Clothes, crowns, and ceremony helped imbue one with the illusion of power. But wearing a robe embroidered with dragons did not endow one with their might; a cloak of feathers did not enable one to fly.

Grandfather would have frowned at such ostentatious displays, but he’d always been secure in his position, possessing an innate dignity and charm. If only these might be inherited along with blood. The court had willingly yielded to his will, unlike now. To many, I was a custodian of power, a temporary inconvenience. The worst imagined me a vessel for breeding the next heir, to be bundled away either as a powerless consort or in a shroud.

Minister Guo cleared his throat. “What of the mandate, Your Highness?” he prodded as though scenting weakness.

I met his stare steadily. “Would I have returned without it?”

The minister opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Chengyin raised his voice to proclaim, “We are pleased to hear of Your Ladyship’s success.”

I shot him a grateful look as Minister Guo glared at him. “The position of your imperial consort still lies vacant,” the minister informed me in a ringing tone. “Now that Your Ladyship has the mandate, allow us to propose some candidates for Your Ladyship’s selection? More than one, if you prefer?”

My hand itched to slap the leer from his face. But I smiled widely. “Of course, if there are enough desirable candidates.” I leaned back against my throne. “We must prepare a courtyard to be fitted out for my consorts after I select them.” Empty words to silence the minister, to throw him off guard.

Minister Guo’s eyes rounded. Maybe he’d hoped to embarrass me with his crude suggestion, but after today few things could shake me.

Minister Dao sidled forward. “Would Your Ladyship share her plan to choose her consort?”

I glanced at Chengyin, but his expression was blank as he studied me curiously. He’d never seen this side to me—harder than when I’d left, sharper around the edges. A thought struck, part inspiration, part recklessness.

“When I choose the imperial consort”—I took care to emphasize the word—“the person will be the one most capable and worthy of serving Tianxia, by my side.”

“A lofty ambition, Your Ladyship.” Minister Guo’s tone dripped with condescension. “How will you determine this paragon?”

“A competition.” I was pulling ideas from the air. A useful distraction from unwanted questions. “We are a land of warriors, most trained regardless of status. Those who are eligible will compete for my hand. But all entrants must be willing, none forced.”

While I had no plans of holding this event, even if I did, I wouldn’t want anyone coerced to enter. I wanted someone who’d want me for myself.

Minister Dao blanched. “Such a thing has never been held before.”