I try to catch Lì’líng’s number, but her wrist is turned away from me as she peels another lotus-wrapped glutinous rice and bites off half. “Mm,” she sighs. “Dates.”
I’m suddenly starving. I pile food onto a plate and eat, the flavors melting against my tongue, richer and better than anything I’ve tasted before in my life. There’s duck stewed with wine and cauliflower, steamed lotus root with shrimp, spiced mutton, pork in thick soy gravy…I don’t think I’ve seen this much food in over nine years. Or, ever.
Suddenly, I feel disgusted. Here I am, stuffing my face and enjoying the luxuries, when Ma and Méi’zi are sharing a meager meal. I think of our watery congee, boiled with the rabbit I hunt and the black fungus I harvest.
I set my platter down a bit too hard. “Excuse me,” I begin, but that’s when a hush goes through the crowd of candidates.
The Eight Immortals are here. They glide more than walk across the bridge, their sleeves and gauzes billowing, their skin seeming to soak in the moonlight so that they glow with it. Behind them, dressed in simpler white shifts and armor, are the immortal guards.
The candidates straighten as the immortals cross the bridge and come to a stop on the terrace. Immediately, I spot the one who vouched for me, Shi’ya. Interestingly, she is flanked by a guard—the only one of the Eight Immortals to have an escort.
When my gaze slides to the guard’s face, I nearly forget to breathe.
His face. I recognize it—slim and chiseled with those long,sweeping eyes, a countenance that reminds me of clear river water and sunlight. He wears the white-gold lamellar armor of the immortal realm’s soldiers, and his hair is pinned up, but there is no doubt about it.
He is the stranger whose face I dreamt beneath the sea.
“Candidates!” Jing’xiù’s voice booms across the garden, tearing me from my thoughts. “I hope you are enjoying our Trial Banquet!” There’s enthusiastic cheering and clapping. Full bellies mean loyalty. “Over the next days, the Temple of Dawn is yours to explore. We have sparring rooms, weapons, talismans, and everything else you’ll need to train yourselves. While the wards have admitted you into the temple, you will not have access to the Kingdom of Sky beyond these grounds.” A disappointed murmur rises among the candidates, and Jing’xiù’s grin widens as he spreads his arms. “For that, you’ll have to wait until you’ve passed all the trials and received our nomination for immortality.”
Every nerve in me stretches taut as I recall the golden pill Jing’xiù held up earlier, as bright as a small star in his palm. The key to a better life for most of us, to safety and security and glory.
For me, the medicine to save my mother’s life.
The atmosphere is suddenly tense, as though the same thought is on every one of the forty-four candidates’ minds.
“The Temple of Dawn observes a number of rules per our Precepts, copies of which you’ll find in each of your chambers,” Jing’xiù continues. “So long as you observe our Precepts, you are free to spend your time in the temple as you wish until the Second Trial. Enjoy your stay!” With a flourish of his sleeves, he turns to leave with the other immortals.
“Hold on,” calls a candidate. It’s Number One, Xiù’chun.Her voice is steady, without an ounce of fear or timidness to be addressing the Eight Immortals directly. “Are you going to tell us more about the Second Trial?”
Jing’xiù glances over his shoulder. “And why would I? It wouldn’t be a trial anymore, would it?”
“We’ll at least receive notice of when it starts, right?” Xiù’chun presses.
Jing’xiù’s smile is cold. “Oh, you’ll know when it begins” is all he says. Wisps of cloud are forming at the Eight Immortals’ feet, lifting them into the air. Before any of us can do anything, they drift into the night sky like stars, and then they’re gone.
“Wait.” I start to feel as if there’s something I’m missing. “He didn’t tell us about classes or who’s going to be training us.”
Lì’líng bites her lip. “There are no classes,” she says. “I think there used to be—at least, that’s what we heard in the—” She’s cut off when Tán’mù shoots her a look, and quickly changes tack: “But in recent years, we’ve heard rumors they’re no longer training practitioners since the last few years of the war. Just recruiting the best of us into their kingdom.”
My mind reels. This isn’t what I read in Bà’s journals. I remember his entries about long, detailed courses teaching martial arts, talismans and enchantments, and the techniques to cultivating our spirit energy. He studied at the Temple of Dawn as a candidate for years before going through the trials.
No classes. No training. And a Second Trial that might start at any moment.
I’m so screwed.
I turn, ignoring Lì’líng as she calls after me, because I can’t respond, not when it feels like my world and the hopeI clung to for so long is falling apart. If I nearly died trying to reach this place, I have zero chance of surviving the next trials against the likes of Yù’chén and Yán’lù. Zero chance of earning a spot and winning the pill my mother’s life depends on.
I hurry back across the marble bridge, the silver luminescence reflecting from its too-beautiful engravings now hurting my eyes. I need to get to my room, need to get a letter out to Méi’zi, think through my options.
I don’t notice the shadow behind me until it’s too late.
My blades are in my hands, but as I raise them to strike, the air shifts. I taste spirit energy, see it shimmer as the talisman my assailant has drawn takes effect.
Clouds billow in and swallow the bridge so that the night turns into an expanse of shifting gray silhouettes.
A shape lunges out of the fog. Before I can scream, fingers wrap around my neck in a choke hold, and a voice hisses by my ear.
“Did you think I’d forgotten about you?”
