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“Then they are wrong,” I replied. “No one is invulnerable. Those stronger, suffer too—maybe they hide it better but their pain is as real.”

He tilted his head back. “How are your wounds?”

“Healed, as you saw to them yourself.” I added awkwardly, “Thank you. For healing me . . . for bearing the punishment on my behalf.”

“I would do it again.” He brushed a lock of hair from my face, his touch lingering on my cheek. “I’ve been meaning to ask, why is this white?”

Careful, I warned myself, my body tensing. If he knew I’d been poisoned with the waters of death, would he suspect what Grandfather had done—what now lay inside me?

“It’s always been this way,” I lied. “Grandfather said it was from my mother’s side of the family.” A safe answer, one he could not disprove.

His expression was inscrutable as his hand fell away. “After yesterday, it would seem you’re in my debt again.”

“What will it cost?”

“I am feeling generous—and bored. Just your company, to entertain me.”

“What entertainment do you expect, Lord Zhangwei? I don’t play music or tell stories.” His title was a familiar barrier, one that was becoming more necessary.

A slight pause. “For the remainder of your visit, shall we dispense with the formalities?”

I nodded reluctantly. Such intimacy was dangerous. The more time I spent with him, the more confused I became. What I should do and what I wanted to were slipping further apart . . . and I was beginning to fear they might never come together again.

“You owe me a meal after abandoning me for our last one,” he reminded me. “There is a place I’d like to show you outside the palace. We can eat there tomorrow, if you’d come with me?”

“We could go today?” There was little time left; I was afraid to waste it. While I preferred to stay in the palace to learn its secrets, spending time with him was also vital to securing his trust—his support could be as valuable as the shield. I was beginning to loathe myself for such calculation, as deceitful as those courtiers I disliked.

He shook his head. “You need to rest today. Your wound was severe; I dared not use too much magic.” He hesitated, then added, “A scar will remain.”

“I’m lucky to be alive,” I said with feeling, as I made my way to the door. “Till tomorrow then.”

There was a lift in my heart that I tried to stifle, an anticipation kindling within. It was a struggle to feign this closeness with him, essential to win him to my side—yet to keep myself safely locked away.

What if this was real?

Impossible. There was no future for us, at least none I would accept. To him, this was a brief interlude, a blink in his immortal existence. Whatever lay between us, even if it was real—it was not meant to last. And no matter the temptation, I would never trade my kingdom for my heart.

13

My reflection here was clear and sharp, unlike the yellowish tinge of the bronze mirrors in my realm. My eyes appeared darker after I’d lined them, and my lips were painted red. The pale lock of my hair gleamed, framing the curve of my face. I didn’t tuck it away as I usually did—this was a part of me now. Plum-blossom trees were embroidered on my pink robe, a blue sash wound around my waist. Soft colors, pretty ones—chosen to lower the god’s guard. The first bright colors I’d worn since Grandfather’s death.

It didn’t feel right, but I had to overcome my unease. Queen Caihong had sent a magnificent dress to my room for the pledging ceremony tomorrow, one I had no choice but to wear. I was running out of time. Regardless of whether I found the shield or won Lord Zhangwei’s support—I couldn’t pledge myself and my kingdom as things stood. My people needed to be freed of our obligation, to have the choices the other mortals did, not confined within our walls.

It was early yet, but Zhangwei was already waiting outside my room. His white robe shifted in the breeze, the light color startling against his tanned skin. Red hawks were embroidered along the hem, their wings seeming to flutter, one taking flight toward the wide black sash that was knotted around his waist. A jade ring bound the immortal’s long hair, which fell across one shoulder to frame his coldly beautiful face. Despite his lack of armor, his sword was slung across his back.

“You always carry your sword,” I remarked. “Are you planning to fight someone today?”

“No. But danger often comes without warning, causing most harm when unexpected.”

“Should I bring my sword then?” I was still unused to carrying one around, just my dagger.

“I will keep you safe,” he told me.

I shouldn’t rely on him; I shouldn’t trust him, nor feel the warmth that I did at his assurance. Yet being with him made me careless, stirring unfamiliar emotions that were becoming harder to suppress . . . to pretend they didn’t exist.

I smiled instead. “Then I’ll leave mine. Who would harm me with you here?” Flattery, woven into a claim to his protection that I hoped to extend to my kingdom.

He returned my smile, then let out a sharp whistle. His phoenix descended toward us, the one we’d ridden before, its rainbow-hued tail flaring wide. Zhangwei helped me onto its back, then climbed up behind me, leaning forward to stroke the phoenix’s head. The great bird spread its wings as we took flight, the wind surging into my face. My initial fear had vanished, a wild exhilaration seizing me as we flew. This time, when his body pressed against mine, I didn’t lean away even though it would have been wiser to.