Page 65 of Immortal

The urge to retch swelled inside me. I fought it, shuddering from horror. Zhangwei knelt beside Lieutenant Yang, gripping his limp hand. A tremor ran through his body, his knuckles white with strain. If he wept, he hid it well.

At last, he pressed the lieutenant’s hand to his own chest, then laid it back down. “Sleep well, my friend.”

“I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“If only I had accepted their offer.” Zhangwei’s voice was raw, racked with anguish. “If only I’d returned with them—”

“Then you would have died, too.” I was grasping to find a way to ease his burden, wishing I had more than these inadequate words.

“When Grandfather died, I blamed myself, wishing I hadn’t needed the lotus. But you didn’t cause their deaths any more than I asked to be poisoned. Don’t let your grief turn inward; don’t let it hurt you.”

He remained silent, yet his breathing seemed to steady. “Was Lieutenant Yang a good friend?” I asked. Grief was awkward and frightening; some thought it was unwelcome to speak of the dead to those who loved them. But when I lost my grandfather, I didn’t want to stop talking about him. For those we loved, the greatest disservice was to forget them.

“We met while training together in the army. He was one of the few who did not care who I was, or what I could do.” His voice was hollow, but calmer than before. “I will miss him.”

I hesitated before saying, “We have a tradition here, to build an altar to the fallen, to honor them with offerings of food and wine. If you wish . . . I will build one here in their memory.”

“Thank you.” His eyes were bright as they met mine. “It would be fitting, given where they lost their lives. For our kind, we have few rites for the fallen, fewer physical remembrances.”

“Be glad for it.” I spoke quietly, thinking of the inevitable fate of my people, the cemeteries that sprawled across our land. The soft cries during the Tomb Sweeping Festival, when the dead were remembered and honored through their descendants’ offerings.

As Zhangwei laid a hand on Lieutenant Yang’s chest, sparks scattered from his fingertips, falling over the body. He went to each of the soldiers in turn, performing the same rite. “Their bodies are preserved until I can return them to their families.”

He stood now, a hard look in his eyes. As he raised his arms, red light surged from his fingers into the heavens, his magic swelling like cresting waves. In the distance, something glimmered yet held fast. Zhangwei’s chest rose and fell, his face taut with strain—yet he did not stop, his power intensifying until the air shuddered with it, until the heavens themselves blazed.

Lines deepened across his face, growing ashen, sweat streaking from his brow. He was not well; already weakened. If he exhausted himself . . . he might die. Pain struck my heart at the thought, but I told myself any concern was for my kingdom and what he had pledged to us.

“Stop, Zhangwei,” I said forcefully. “You’re hurting yourself.”

He didn’t turn, he did not reply like he was ensnared in the throes of his spell, too far gone along this path of destruction. I grabbed his arm, as cold as ice, but I didn’t let go.

“You promised to protect me. If you die, what will happen to me?” I would say anything to stop him, even if I had to guilt him into it.

He stilled, blinking as he lowered his hands, his breathing ragged. “The skies are sealed. This must have just happened—the moment my shield broke.”

“Someone wanted to isolate Tianxia,” I said. “They wanted to make sure the immortals could not reach us.”

“This is forbidden magic. With most of the Winged Devils captured, this must be the doing of another. Only the Wuxin would have such power.” His hands balled into fists. “I can’t break this enchantment alone. I can’t warn Her Majesty or ask for reinforcements. For now, we are trapped here.”

“Then there is no time to waste. I must return to the palace.”

His eyes locked onto mine, his jaw tightening. “I need my strength for what lies ahead. Would you give me the lotus? I will keep my promises to you—all of them.”

Something writhed inside my chest, my resolve faltering. I had denied him outright before, but it was harder now. He was right; he needed his power—we needed the God of War to keep us safe. This danger threatened us all. And as I looked at the bodies on the ground, fear gripped me that Zhangwei might be next. Yet if I gave it to him, I’d have nothing to hold him to his word. I might lose the only chance Tianxia would ever have to break free of the immortals. It wasn’t just my future at stake . . . and I didn’t trust him enough.

“I can’t,” I said haltingly. “If I agree now, it would be out of fear—not because I want to.”

He nodded slowly. “Then it wouldn’t work anyway. Don’t apologize, it’s my fault that you don’t trust me yet. But one day, you will.” He didn’t rage, threaten, or attempt to persuade me—which felt worse, somehow, my remorse thickening.

As he extended his hand to me, I took it, a shiver running through my body that had nothing to do with the cold. And as his fingers closed around mine, a warmth unfurled within, a shelter amid the rising dread.

24

The entrance of my home was abandoned, the doors swinging ajar. Frost glazed the wood like rivulets of salt that crept over the metal grates.

“Where are the guards?” It was hard to keep calm, my nails raking my palms.

Zhangwei pulled me to a grove of trees, his tense expression sending a spike of fear through me. “The Wuxin. They’re here.”