Page 7 of Immortal

“My father passed away. I am his only child, granddaughter to the Lord of Tianxia.” Except Grandfather was no more. I swallowed, holding the god’s gaze. It was no surprise that few outside the palace knew of my existence. Most didn’t think I’d survive to claim the throne, and Grandfather was cautious with what he shared with the immortals, as were most of the people here.

“Why aren’t you in the palace? Why are you here?” he asked.

“When my home was attacked, my grandfather ordered me to leave for my safety. Only later did I learn of his death.” I tried to push down my grief and—far more dangerous—my rage. The god hadn’t struck Grandfather, yet not all weapons were crafted of metal; not all wounds were of the flesh.

He said nothing, not even offering words of condolence. Immortals had no comprehension of death, of what it meant to lose a loved one. Maybe all of them were cursed with hearts of ice. As light flickered at the god’s fingertips, Chengyin cried out in warning, rushing to shield me—but a shimmering barrier sprang up around him and Aunt Shou, keeping us a distance apart. The god didn’t look their way as he caught my arm with surprising gentleness. A soothing warmth rippled from his fingers, healing the punctures gouged by the creature’s claws.

I pulled away, stiffening from his touch. His eyes narrowed as they swung to my face. Was I being ungrateful? Rude? In the silence, I opened my mouth to thank him, then shut it again. He didn’t deserve gratitude, not after what he’d done to my grandfather and my home.

“Who hurt you?” Softly spoken, yet rife with menace.

“They did.” I nodded at the monsters still trapped in the god’s fiery cage. Four left, one dead.

He unslung his sword, setting its point on the ground. “This land falls under Queen Caihong’s domain. Winged Devils have no place here.”

They bowed in unison. “We were mistaken, Great Immortal. We will obey Queen Caihong’s command, and leave.”

The God of War tilted his head back as he studied them. “Do you still do the bidding of the Wuxin?”

I flinched, the word enough to make my blood run cold. It was the Wuxin who had invaded Tianxia, descending from the skies through Kunlun Mountain, causing great devastation and suffering. The Golden Desert immortals had helped my people drive them away, which was why we served them now.

“How could we, when the Wuxin are sealed in the Netherworld?” one of the Winged Devils replied, a little too quickly.

“Then why are you here?” As the God of War’s voice dropped, a chill glided through the air.

“To search for my friend,” one said smoothly, gesturing at the body on the ground. “He wanted to visit this realm. We meant no harm.”

Convenient, as the dead could not speak. “A lie,” I said at once. “They attacked us together.”

The God of War stepped closer to the Winged Devils. “Why did you attack the girl and her companions? Tell me now, else I will show you no mercy.”

“You are not entitled to our answers.” Gone was their respectful demeanor, their false subservience.

The four remaining creatures lifted their hands, a grayish mist swirling forth. As the god’s barrier that held them broke—they circled us, eyes bright with malevolence.

Terror gripped me, but the god appeared unshaken. “Stay behind me,” he commanded, with an almost infuriating calm.

“What of my friends? You’re still holding them. Release them so they can escape.”

“I will protect them.”

Such confidence . . . I did not share it. Yet in this moment, the God of War that I loathed and feared was the only thing standing between us and death.

Without warning, one of the Winged Devils lunged toward us. The god unsheathed his sword swiftly, thrusting the blade into the creature’s side—then drew back seamlessly to stab another Winged Devil. One sprang at me but I scrambled back, the god’s sword arcing over my head, moon-bright, carving the creature’s neck. Blood sprayed, warm droplets scattering across my face. I would have screamed if I were not half-frozen with fear. The god moved with deadly grace, dealing each blow with iron control yet unrestrained brutality. His expression betrayed neither strain nor fear, not even triumph or bloodlust. As the last remaining creature charged at him, the god lashed out, plunging his sword into the monster’s chest. It reared back, staring at the blood that flowed forth, swiping curved talons at the god’s face. But the immortal swung back, bolts of flame arcing from his palm to strike the creature, burning rivulets along its flesh. The creature shuddered in a grotesque rhythm, finally collapsing upon the ground.

Were they dead? One still writhed, a soft groan slipping out. The God of War crouched down, turning its head toward him. “Answer my questions and I will spare your life.”

The Winged Devil bared its teeth as it raised a shaking hand, dragging a claw across its neck. Blood spilled, its body jerking violently and then going still.

I fell to my knees and vomited. Sourish and acrid, my throat raw, my stomach churning as I sank upon the grass. Reaching for the waterskin, I lifted it to my lips and took a long drink, then poured the rest over my face to wash the blood from it. When I looked up, the god was staring at me. Humiliation seared me at being seen this way. Did he scorn my weakness? I pushed my chin out as though daring him to mock me.

Instead, he sheathed his sword, his breathing a little uneven, his eyes pinched with strain.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, though it seemed impossible.

“No,” he replied, his tone clipped.

“I see why they call you the God of War.” It wasn’t a compliment; it was no gift to possess an unsurpassed talent for killing.