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I hesitated, then shook my head. Chengyin left at once, closing the door after him. Being alone with the God of War made the room seem smaller, or maybe I was acutely aware of his presence—my senses alive, like awakening to the first day of spring. How I wished it were anyone but him who roused these feelings in me.

“Why are you here? You seemed engaged with your companion earlier.”

“She was certainly more agreeable—”

“Go back to her then,” I retorted.

“Agreeable, but not preferred.” A thin smile played on his lips. “Much of my pleasure came from your evident discontent.”

His unexpected admission loosened a knot inside me. “Stop playing these games. Why pretend that you care? I’m not so stupid as to fall for the same trick twice.”

“I’m done playing games.” He moved toward me, slowly, like he was afraid I might bolt. He stood so close, the air between our bodies seemed to tighten. It was becoming harder to feign indifference, to keep myself in check.

“Stop fighting me; let us help each other. Right now, both of us have more to gain from working together,” he said steadily.

“What do you mean?” I would make him spell out his intent; I would take nothing for granted with him.

“Only I can give you what you want, while only you can give me what I need.” A pause, his eyes shifting toward my study. “I could take back my sword now—but I can’t do that with the Divine Pearl Lotus.”

I reined in the impulse to refuse, to deny anything he wanted—making myself acknowledge the sense in his words. Right now, he was the only one who could help Tianxia. This might work if I could shape the terms to bind him. Dare I trust him again? Was there even a choice?

I needed time to think. “You shouldn’t be here, alone with me. Others might talk.”

“Your betrothed gave us permission.” One of his hands folded into a fist. “I wonder why he feels comfortable in doing so.”

“Because our relationship is built upon trust, not like—”

“Ours?” he asked.

“We don’t have a relationship.”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze sliding to my mouth. “I think of it too. How you feel. How you would taste.”

My lips parted involuntarily, a treacherous warmth flaring across my body. As he lowered his head to mine, I should have moved but didn’t—trapped in the spell he was weaving with his voice, his words, his nearness. As his hand brushed my waist, the touch jolted me.

I wrenched away, shaking my head. “Don’t do this.”

“Why not? You want this too.” He spoke without triumph, just a gentle knowing that was infinitely worse.

“I may want candied hawthorns, but eating too many will make me sick.” My breathing was uneven. “I can’t let myself want you again.”

Silence fell over us, the brittle kind. The light dulled in his eyes as he nodded, something about his expression tugging at me. I almost missed the heat of our anger, the sharpness of hate . . . they were easier to bear.

The air turned cool, wavering like it was caught in a crosswind. A tremor ran through his body, lines creasing his face before they were abruptly smoothed away.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” My voice hitched, though I tried to stem my concern. When he didn’t reply, I added, “If you want us to work together, don’t hide things from me.”

He looked away like this was hard for him. “My cure is long delayed.”

“What injuries are you suffering? Why do you need the lotus?” There were no visible wounds on him unless they lay beneath his clothes—nor had I seen any sign of weakness, beyond glimpses of fatigue after battle, the time he was resting in his courtyard.

Maybe not all wounds left scars that could be seen. Maybe I’d been wrong in thinking the God of War wore no mask for the others, and sometimes we all had to feign strength we didn’t have.

“In the war, the Wuxin unleashed a forbidden magic, a powerful and insidious poison that damaged my lifeforce. Our healers could not cure me, they were only able to delay its advance—the song of phoenixes helped too. Yet these could only slow the symptoms, they don’t heal the root cause. The Divine Pearl Lotus is the only cure, and there is only one in the world.”

If their lifeforce is extinguished, they die just as we do.

“Are you dying?” It felt almost absurd to ask this of him, one of the most powerful immortals in their realm.