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“Yes,” he replied unflinchingly, like it was a truth he faced every day.

And though I’d suspected it, his admission pierced me deeply. If I were stronger, I’d have been glad, seeking the opportunities in his vulnerability. But even now . . . I didn’t want him to die.

“If we are in this together,” I said slowly, “no more lies or secrets.”

He held my gaze. “No more lies.”

I glared at him, but I had secrets too, those I didn’t want to share. “No secrets that will threaten me or my people,” I stipulated. “If I learn that you’ve deceived me again, I’d rather destroy the lotus than give it to you.”

He nodded gravely, “I swear, you will not have cause.”

“Let’s lay out the terms. In return for your sword and the lotus—you will secure Tianxia’s freedom, return the Shield of Rivers and Mountains, and bring down the walls.”

“Tianxia will still guard Kunlun,” he stated. “This will be important to Her Majesty.”

“A separate alliance can be negotiated. Those who guard Kunlun must be appropriately armed to face any threats.” I steeled myself to add, “I will only give you the lotus if it doesn’t endanger me; I will not trade my life for yours.”

“I would never want that.” He stretched out his hand, his palm turned up. “Are we in agreement?”

I hesitated, then laid my hand over his, letting his fingers close around mine. As my gaze met his, a luminous warmth kindled despite the chill of his skin. It was not magic . . . yet something close.

I pulled away, cautious now, unwilling to yield anything that hadn’t been agreed. “How do I give you the lotus?” I asked uncertainly. “I can’t govern my heart.”

“All I ask is that you try.” He spoke almost gently. “It must be given without thought of gain. You must want to heal me.”

“But I’m doing this because of what you’re offering,” I said, unwilling to mislead him. “I can’t promise more.”

“I don’t expect more,” he assured me. “Just a chance.”

Was he hoping for my gratitude? To find another way into my heart after his last attempt had failed? Whether it worked or not, my conscience was clear.

“Where is the Shield of Rivers and Mountains?” I asked.

“In the palace treasury. During the attack, all precious artifacts were sealed there as a precaution, until the Winged Devils were captured. We didn’t know what they sought. Their attack was well planned, except they lacked the forces to secure victory—like they were a diversion. While they are generally close-mouthed, some were angry enough to confess they were waiting for reinforcements that never came, though they wouldn’t disclose who. We are hopeful that a peaceful solution may eventually be sought, though it will take time.”

“Reinforcements? From the Wuxin?” I made myself ask.

“Perhaps. They were allied once. We thought it had ended after the Wuxin were sealed in the Netherworld.” He sounded like he no longer believed it.

“No walls last forever,” I told him.

Silence fell over us. “I will retrieve the shield for you; your people will be free.” He spoke intently. “But this must wait until I can speak with Her Majesty. She was injured in the attack and is in seclusion to recuperate. It could be a week or more until she emerges.”

Concern flickered—not for her, but for how this would affect my kingdom. I never thought the immortal queen could be hurt, but then again, I’d not imagined the God of War could be either. Maybe deep down, we were not so different after all . . . just bound by different rules.

“What if Her Majesty refuses? We’re both offering things we don’t know if we can deliver,” I said in a low voice.

“Nothing is assured in life. Sometimes we need to just trust—whether in destiny, or each other.”

My mouth curled. I didn’t believe in destiny—that my parents were fated to die young, that Grandfather’s heart would give out the way it had. But I would believe in what I knew: that the immortal needed me to live, and the Queen of the Golden Desert needed her God of War.

“Will you give me the lotus first?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not until you give me what was promised.”

It wasn’t easy to refuse, but I wouldn’t relinquish my greatest advantage. I’d rather be mercenary than a fool. Without trust, promises were just words strung together—easily broken.

“Don’t you believe me?” he wanted to know.