Page 63 of Immortal

The sun beat down on me relentlessly, as it had all day. It was close to evening; I’d lost track of the number of stances Zhangwei had made me do. Sweat poured down my face, my robe sticking to my body. But I hadn’t fallen once, triumph surging. If he’d intended to make a fool of me, he would fail. Yet my limbs were aching, my head beginning to spin. I’d been holding this position for a while: my sword arm thrust straight, my left leg lifted high off the ground. Something buzzed around me—a fly, landing on my nose. It tickled, snapping my focus. I blew at it, the fly flitting away only to return. Annoyed now, I shook my head to dislodge it. Zhangwei shouted a sharp reprimand as one of my legs wobbled, my body weaving to try to regain balance—but then I tumbled headlong into the river.

The water was ice-cold, almost welcome after the heat of training under the sun. It rushed up my nose, searing my throat as I kicked wildly to stay afloat. Just as I was about to resurface, I swam away, burning with humiliation at my fall. Would Zhangwei laugh at me? A rash impulse stirred to drag him into the water, to get him as thoroughly soaked as I was—it would serve him right for his smug commands.

“Liyen!” He called my name, then again, more frantically than before.

I ignored him, waiting for him to come closer, holding my breath until it felt like my lungs were about to burst. A shadow fell over the river: Zhangwei’s. But before I could pull him in, he dove into the waters—churning with his weight. He hadn’t seen me yet, and I quickly broke to the surface for a gulp of air, then dove back down. I wanted to swim away; he would be furious at my trick. But something wasn’t right . . . his arms and legs flailing like he was struggling in the water, only to sink deeper.

He couldn’t swim. Immortals wouldn’t need to, when they could fly. As I recalled the chill of his skin, the poison in his body, a new terror clutched me. I swam toward him as fast as I could, my heart pounding. Zhangwei had gone limp, his eyes closed, his skin almost bluish through the haze of water. At once I dove toward him, sliding my arms under his shoulders, struggling to drag him up. He was heavier than I expected—but I pulled harder, refusing to let go. I kicked violently as I held him, as I fought to reach the surface, the fading sunlight glimmering above almost tauntingly—

He spun around swiftly, breaking my hold as his arms slid around my waist, clasping me to him before I could dart away. His eyes met mine, flaring with intent, as he lowered his head—and kissed me. Fire shot through my veins, searing every part of me. I was shattering, coming apart, even as he held me together. One of my arms went around his neck and I was holding him too—my caution, suspicion, and resentment melting away, leaving me lightless, adrift, untethered . . . but for the feel of his lips, the tangle of our breath.

Such madness, yet why did it feel so right?

He pulled me effortlessly through the water, his arms still wrapped around me. We stumbled to the bank, and then somehow I was lying beneath him on the grass. As the weight of his body sank over mine, an ache swelled within, a hunger that silenced the murmurs of my heart, casting the last of my restraint aside. His mouth pressed hungrily against mine, his hands cradling the curves of my face.

The chill of the air was a shock, sanity returning in a rush. I pushed him away, suddenly afraid. As I wrapped my arms around myself, the wet silk of my robe clung to me—yet he looked only at my face, his eyes black with desire . . . and something more, something I couldn’t read.

“We can’t do this.” My words tumbled out. I was grasping for reason as he remained silent, just staring at me intently. “I’m engaged.”

“You don’t love him,” he said flatly.

The certainty in his tone angered me. “You know nothing about Chengyin and me. Our bond goes deeper than you will ever know.”

“If you loved him, you wouldn’t have kissed me back.”

“I was caught off-guard,” I said quickly, to deflect the undeniable truth. “I thought you were in danger. Were you pretending to drown?”

“As much as you were.” He thrust a hand through his wet hair. “I don’t want to talk about this; I’d rather talk about us.”

“There is no ‘us,’” I said harshly. “You are immortal, I am mortal. We have no future together.”

“Don’t you believe that our destiny is in our hands?” He held his out to me as his voice deepened. “Let’s make ours together.”

How he tempted me, but it was not enough—not for my kingdom, and not for me. Even if I could consider what he asked, I wanted to be more to him than a season in the span of his existence.

“No,” I said adamantly, though it was hard to refuse.

“What are you afraid of?”

You. How you make me feel.

“What future would this be?” I asked him bluntly. “I would age while you remained the same, the years marking me as they left you unscathed. I want to be with someone as an equal—to be their life, their great love as they are mine. I don’t want half a life with you, knowing you’ll forget me—”

“I will never forget you.” He spoke with such intensity it bordered on fury. “You are more than my equal in every way. No one will ever replace you, whether you live for a hundred years more or ten.”

“But that’s the thing,” I said slowly. “I don’t have a hundred years, no matter what you or I do.” A sadness filled me suddenly, my shoulders folding inward. “This ends here. We have a deal; we’ll both get what we want, then we won’t see each other again.”

How bright his eyes, how his expression hurt me. Part of me wanted to take back my words, to let the moment carry us into the unknown, borne along the current of desire. But I couldn’t be reckless; I wasn’t just a girl in love with a boy. I was the Lady of Tianxia and he was the God of War. There was no happy ending in our story, and I wouldn’t let my kingdom pay the price.

“As you wish.” He dropped his hand, looking away. “I will return to speak to my queen. When I come back, we will fulfil our obligations to each other—repay our debts.”

A sharp suspicion slid into my mind as I pulled my robe tighter. “Was this another scheme? Are you afraid I won’t be able to give you the lotus, and you were trying to convince me? I already promised you I’d do what I can.”

He moved toward me so swiftly, he caught me unaware. Though he didn’t touch me, he was so close, his coolness radiated from him. “Did it feel like a trick? Did any part feel false?”

No.

“Pretend to yourself all you want,” he said wrathfully. “But don’t presume to read my mind, to make me a villain because it would be easier that way. I’ve given you my word: no more lies.”