Page 92

“Why the urgency, Lord Dalian? My arm is still injured from your whip; I don’t know if I can do what you ask.” I didn’t usually play the victim, but I’d say anything to buy a reprieve.

He stiffened, maybe expecting unflinching obedience. “Lin, see to her wound,” he barked.

Miss Lin stalked forward, her bearing taut with annoyance. I didn’t think she liked being spoken to this way, or maybe she thought this task was beneath her. As she reached for my hand, I hesitated before giving it to her. She inspected the wound, frowning—did she notice someone had tried healing me? My eyes met hers, a silent plea in them. I couldn’t expose Mingwen; Lord Dalian would take her help as an insult to his authority, not the simple act of kindness it had been. As she nodded slightly, relief flooded me.

Light flickered from her fingers, gliding over my arm and wrist, even the cuts on my palms that she said nothing of. The last of my discomfort vanished, along with the marks.

“She’s healed, Lord Dalian,” Miss Lin said, returning to his side.

“Will you do this?” Lord Dalian asked me sharply, an order veiled as a question.

When I hesitated, he plucked a dagger from his waist, pressing his finger on its tip until it pierced the skin. His brow tensed as his blood spilled. I recoiled, suppressing my rage—wanting to strike him, yet afraid to.

Aunt Shou spoke before I could, her face pale. “Be careful, my son,” she said in a voice that I strained to hear. “This form helps you to recuperate, but while you’re connected to the host, you are bound to their weakness—”

“Silence, Mother.” He glared at her, his mouth twisted in fury.

As she shrank away, I quashed my pity. She deserved this and more—but it still didn’t make this right.

Lord Dalian was waiting for my answer, toying with the blade in his hands. A vise tightened around me. I had tested him as far as I dared. If I didn’t yield, Chengyin and I would suffer the consequences. And even if I refused, from the look on his face, he’d just drag me there by force.

“I will go.”

He settled back against his throne, his smile as false as mine. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

34

The air was still, the waters calm. When had the barge stopped?

My gut twisted as I followed Lord Dalian onto the deck. The silhouette of a cliff loomed ahead, a temple perched on its edge, as luminous as if carved from a sliver of the moon. Blood-red tiles gleamed from its roof, shining like they were wet with rain.

“You brought me here? What if I’d refused?” Anger crept into my voice as I buried the spike of alarm.

“You don’t seem like a fool,” Lord Dalian said with deliberation. “I would hate to be proven wrong.”

I quelled a sharp retort. He’d already shown that he was not averse to using force. For now, there was no choice but to obey him, or at least pretend to.

When I didn’t reply, Lord Dalian added, “An escort will accompany you to the temple, so you don’t get ‘lost.’”

Soldiers surrounded me at once, led by Captain Rao. As I left the barge with them, the winged predators of the Netherworld circled hungrily above our heads. If I ran, they’d devour me whole. And even if I fled, what about Chengyin? I would not leave him here.

A long flight of stairs was cut into the slope that led to the temple, the wooden boards narrow and steep. Golden larch trees flanked the path, their bright-yellow leaves brushing my shoulders as I passed. Above us loomed the temple, clad in shadows and starlight. The dark-red roof was almost black in the night, the ridges adorned with small sculptures of birds. At the top of the hill, the grounds were immaculately tended, flowers blooming in cultivated profusion. The place was desolate—unsurprising, as Lord Dalian had said no other could enter.

What would he do to me if I failed, if I was no longer of use to him? My legs were shaking as I approached the temple. I held my breath as the doors slid apart—my relief entwined with dread. Maybe the trace of the lotus left inside me sufficed, the bit that had healed me. It was dark within, without a glimpse of light. My insides knotted as I glanced at the soldiers who had formed a ring around me.

“Go in,” Captain Rao ordered with a malicious grin. “Lord Dalian said we could help hasten you should you waver.”

I wouldn’t give him the pleasure, my smile hiding my gritted teeth. “You are most obedient, Captain Rao. Lord Dalian is fortunate to have such a loyal servant.”

I relished the flash of wrath in his eyes, my satisfaction vanishing as I stalked into the temple, fear beating wildly in my chest. The doors closed, entombing me in darkness. I swung around and tried to pry them apart, but they were locked. Would they open once I’d completed my task? A scent wafted in, of incense mingled with an earthiness that reminded me of the Wangchuan River. They must be connected, as Lord Dalian had said. Was everything he’d claimed true? If there was a small chance of restoring their river to avert a war, I had to seize it.

Lanterns flared to life, casting their light across the walls, as smooth as the hollow of a shell. A whisper of music glided through the chamber, although there was neither instrument nor musician in sight. Thoughts of ghosts crowded my mind—they aren’t real, I told myself harshly. Yet after all I’d seen in the skies and beyond, the lines between reality, nightmare, and myth were irrevocably blurred.

In the far corner, a round pond gleamed. As I walked toward it, the music faded. Light fell from a hole in the ceiling, the waters glistening. Bright-green algae bloomed over the pond evenly, like a silk sheet pulled taut. Were the waters tainted as Dalian had said? His story seemed to fit, yet a shard of unease lodged in my chest. What was I missing? What had I overlooked? For these immortal beings, nothing was ever as it seemed.

I approached the pond cautiously. My senses prickled, the air thick with the unknown. Bracing myself, I glanced into the waters. A whispering rustled through the silence, a strange force enveloping me—drawing me closer until my face hovered just above the surface.

The algae dissolved abruptly and sank into the depths. My reflection looked back at me, as clear and still as though I were looking at myself through another’s eyes. Except now copper ringed my irises—just like those of the Wuxin—my hair all glittering white. Ice clung to my veins as a desperate terror mounted. Something loosened inside me, breaking away, darkness crashing down like waves of night. Screams bottled up, an emptiness ripping through my head like something vital was being torn away . . . an invasion, a theft of what was most precious.