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I smiled, reminding myself that it didn’t matter if I lost, beyond the blow to my pride. But I couldn’t yield too easily. Someone like him would relish a challenge more—and I also didn’t want to appear a fool.

As we sat down by the board, he handed me a bowl of rounded white stones, then began placing the ones I’d negotiated from him along the star points.

“You may change them as you see fit,” he said. “Though I think you’re not as unskilled as you’d have me believe.”

“Skill is one thing, but immortals have the advantage of age.”

“Age does not always bestow wisdom.” Zhangwei picked up a black stone and placed it on the board. “While time allows one to accumulate knowledge, it’s what one does with it that sets them apart. It doesn’t matter how many years one studies if one remains closed to learning.”

In my realm, age mattered: Respect was yielded to an elder, and tolerance to the young. Maybe it was because the years etched their marks upon us—unlike the immortals, whom it left untouched. It was easier to disregard time when one did not suffer its scars.

“At least you have the chance to seek all the knowledge you wish,” I argued. “Moreover, the endless years aren’t the only advantage you possess. You have magic, nor does illness touch you.”

“Do you envy us?” he asked quietly.

A dangerous question. “These gifts make you more powerful than us, but not necessarily better.”

“Do you think your people are as capable as us?” It wasn’t disbelief or condescension in his voice, but curiosity.

“I daresay our hearts and minds are as strong as yours,” I said carefully. “Given the same opportunities, we’d be more than a match for your kind.”

“Would you wish to be immortal? To have these advantages?” he asked.

I studied his face, wondering if there might be something more sinister behind these questions. Who wouldn’t want to live forever with their loved ones, to never fear illness and death, to have the time to read every book ever written, to listen to music without end? To be beautiful, powerful, and eternal. But even as I envied their gifts, I did not want to become like them—jaded and careless, almost cruel in their callousness to those they deemed “less.” What use was a gift if it wasn’t treasured? But I needed to guard myself not to reveal my ambition, my resentment of their kind.

I placed my piece on the board, no longer thinking about the game. “Maybe, if there was someone to share it with. Eternity might be lonely otherwise.” A safe answer.

He set another piece on the board, laying an elaborate trap as I smothered a curse. “Are you lonely?”

At his question, the hollow in my chest gaped a little wider. “My grandfather is dead. I have no family left.”

He paused. “He was a good ruler.”

“He was a better grandfather.” My voice thickened with emotion.

“Do you still grieve for him?”

“Of course. How long do immortals grieve for?” I asked, a touch bitterly. “There is a hole in my heart. I don’t know if it will ever close or if anything will fill it—but I also don’t want it to. I want to miss him, to never forget.”

He reached out, brushing away a tear that I’d not known had fallen. His touch was unexpectedly gentle for one who wielded a sword with such violence.

“I am sorry. I hope you will find the peace you need.”

His words seeped into the silence between us, my cheek burning from his touch. Was he apologizing for my grief? The fear his people roused in us? Or how my grandfather had died: afraid for his life, his loved ones, and his kingdom? It shouldn’t matter, yet it did—a little—that he cared.

This felt too real, unsettling, and I sought safer ground. “Grandfather was loyal to Her Majesty. He served her to the best of his abilities.” It was the truth, until he’d disobeyed her.

“Did he speak of the Divine Pearl Lotus to you?”

Inside, I stiffened, even as my brow puckered in seeming confusion. Had this all been an act? Was this why he’d sought my company? As I was trying to draw information from him, he was doing the same with me. A relief that he was ignorant about the lotus, that what he sought lay inside me. I resisted the urge to rub the scar, picking up another weiqi piece instead.

“Grandfather said the lotus was greatly treasured by Her Majesty. He guarded it with care but warned me that many desired it too.” I stared into the god’s face, keeping my tone steady. “Why does the queen want it? What does the Divine Pearl Lotus do?”

“That is for Her Majesty to disclose,” he replied shortly. “Do you share your grandfather’s loyalty?”

There was only one answer, if I wanted to live. I placed my next move, barely looking at the board, a chill crystalizing in my veins. The stakes of this game were higher than I’d thought—not the pieces on the board but those played with words. I needed to convince him of my loyalty, that I knew nothing of the missing lotus.

“Of course, I do.” I spoke with as much sincerity as I could muster. “I remember my grandfather’s lessons. Tianxia is loyal to Her Majesty.”