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I pushed myself up slowly, glaring at him. Had he lost his mind? He was ignoring his own advice, earning another thrashing. Facing Queen Caihong, I clasped my hands and folded over in a bow, trying to ignore how my wound seared.

“Lady of Tianxia, you may leave the platform,” Queen Caihong said brusquely. “A physician will see to you.”

“I thank Her Majesty for her consideration,” I said in a hollow tone. “But I humbly ask for Her Majesty’s mercy, to forgo the God of War’s final strike—to accept my blood in repayment.” I touched the wound on my shoulder then, letting the blood stain my fingers.

Silence descended. But then, someone laughed. “A girl, defending the God of War?”

“Not just a girl,” his friend replied, “but a mortal.”

I groped for anger, but there was nothing—my body afire with agony. Lord Zhangwei was watching me, an unexpected softness in his face, his eyes so dark they might drown me.

Queen Caihong’s gaze thinned. “Why would you do this for him?”

“I have my honor to uphold too, Your Majesty.” I was breathing heavily, my words disjointed. “Lord Zhangwei has borne more than enough for me.”

“Indeed, he has.” Queen Caihong’s voice turned cool. “Very well, I accept your request. Lord Zhangwei, your punishment is served in full. You may leave the platform.”

The stone dragon’s claws snapped apart to release him. We stood there a moment, staring at each other, before he bent down and helped me up, the coolness of his touch as startling as his gentleness. A wetness was spreading across my chest, blood blossoming across the silk as the pain knifed deeper, like a blade buried in my flesh.

“Let me carry you,” he said, already reaching for me.

But I shook my head, wanting to walk from here, refusing to let them see me fall. With Lord Zhangwei’s arm around my waist, I stumbled through the entrance, clinging to consciousness. As the doors closed behind us, only then did a ragged sigh slip from my throat. Lord Zhangwei’s hand caught mine. I would have pulled away had I the strength, but his touch was oddly soothing.

“Why did you do that?” he asked quietly. “Why take the blow? Why did you speak for me?”

I should admit that I hadn’t intended to get struck . . . but the wiser part cautioned silence, to let him think this if it would bring him closer to Tianxia’s side. And so I looked into his face, uttering half a truth: “I didn’t want you to be hurt any more.”

His hand tightened over mine. “I’m not used to another stepping in for me, asking mercy on my behalf. Much less—”

“A mortal?” I finished the sentence for him, managing a small smile, though it was becoming harder to remain standing. “Why did you take the punishment for me?” I repeated his question to him, my self-control unraveling.

“Because I didn’t want you to be hurt either.”

My mind clouded. This moment between us . . . what was it? All I knew was that I wasn’t just pretending anymore. And whatever this was, it might be more dangerous than any punishment the queen could devise.

The God of War clasped my arms gently. How I wanted to lean on him, to draw from his strength when mine was almost spent. I should pull free, but I was tired, my legs crumpling. He caught me as I fell, his hands sliding around my shoulders, a moan breaking from me as he accidentally pressed on my torn flesh. Without a word, he swung me up, my head falling back, my hair trailing over his arm. At his touch, a tingling coursed through my veins like the tender graze of snowfall—his magic healing me before he’d even healed himself. The agony subsided, fading to a throbbing ache.

“Sleep. I’ll look after you now,” he whispered.

A command that I readily obeyed, a mercy to succumb to the dark—devoid of pain, hurt, my warring emotions . . . and the fear that I could not hate him as I should.

12

Shafts of light slipped through the latticed windows, my mind stirring as my body shifted. Instinctively, I braced for pain, but there was none—my palms brushing the covers of an unfamiliar bed. I pushed myself up and looked around the chamber, small but beautifully furnished. Paintings of forests hung from the walls, a pair of rosewood chairs flanked a marble side table, a miniature tree set upon it.

The door swung open. Weina entered, carrying a tray with a bowl and a pot of tea. “You’re awake. Are you feeling better?”

I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck, wondering at the absence of discomfort. “Did the healer visit me?”

“Lord Zhangwei tended to you himself. It isn’t easy to heal mortals, particularly if your injuries are severe. Caution is needed, as your bodies aren’t accustomed to magic.”

My treacherous mind imagined him here while I slept, touching my wound, watching me. “How is Lord Zhangwei?” I asked.

“It would take more than a few strikes to bring down our God of War,” Weina replied as she handed the bowl of soup to me. Despite its light color, the flavor was rich, teeming with herbs.

“Weina, are we still in the palace?”

She nodded. “You’ve been asleep since yesterday. Lord Zhangwei asked me to accompany you so you wouldn’t be among strangers.”