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It was like I was walking into a storm, lifting my face to the wind and rain that beat down relentlessly. Reckless yet liberating, to embrace the intensity of the moment—to not care, hide, or run. I was tired of fighting, of struggling to do what was right. Right now, I wasn’t thinking of the danger that lurked, of our enemies, or what the God of War needed from me. Just for tonight, I would be selfish, surrendering to my own desires.

Let the rain fall. The sun would rise tomorrow in its luminous, merciless clarity.

I shifted toward him, tilting my head to his. As my lips parted, his eyes flicked toward them.

“Will you stay?” he asked, his fingers grazing my cheek.

“I’m done running away.”

Something glinted in his gaze, something unleashed. As he clasped my shoulders, drawing me closer—I leaned forward . . . and kissed him. A current sparked within, stirring an elusive, glittering heat that swept into a part of me I never knew existed. Pride was forgotten, caution extinguished—I pressed closer as he held me, his kiss deepening as my mouth parted beneath his, his breath hot against my tongue. As one of his hands slid down my back, the other buried in my hair, I wrapped my arms around his neck. His skin was as soft as silk, as cool as moonlight—a balm to the heat searing my body, the ache that swelled from deep inside. He lowered me to the ground, hard against my back, yet I was numbed to all but these awakening sensations. My robe was loosened then pulled apart, slipping over my shoulder, his lips moving along the curve of my neck. I arched with pleasure, a tightness coiled inside me, straining to be released.

But even in this moment, my mind would not be wholly silenced. Desire was not enough; an immortal could never love me the way I wanted. I deserved more than what he offered, to be more than a brief interlude in his life, for us to belong together in every way. Because I knew if I gave him my heart, I would never get it back.

My heart was pounding as I made myself push him away. He stilled, a tremor running through him as he lifted himself from me. My traitorous body protested as I turned from him, my shaking hands taking far too long to straighten my robe. How I burned from what we’d done . . . with wanting to continue.

“This isn’t right.” I was thinking of the impossibility of our situation.

“Is it your betrothed?” he replied without a flicker of remorse. As I cursed myself for forgetting the farce of my engagement, he added in a somber tone, “I wouldn’t do this if you loved him, but you don’t—and he doesn’t love you as you deserve.”

Could you? The question hovered, but all I said was, “Chengyin is a good match for me.”

“Don’t marry him.” He spoke with such emotion, it pierced me.

“If not him, it would be another. Maybe someone from the court, or I’d have to hold a tournament to find someone to marry.” I added the last in an attempt to lighten the mood.

A grave mistake.

“A tournament?” He spat the word. “Don’t marry your First Advisor, don’t marry any of them,” he said wrathfully, light blazing from his eyes.

“Who should I marry then?” This was as close as I would go.

Silence fell over us, my spirits sinking with each moment. But I would never show him my disappointment, or how this hurt.

“I can’t ask you now,” he said in a low voice. “But I promise you—”

“Don’t say it.” I swung to him, my hands clenched. “You demand that I keep myself free, yet won’t promise yourself. You want everything on your own terms. But I want more than what you offer—what you have to give.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, like he was struggling with himself. More secrets? Would there ever be an end to them? But then he stiffened abruptly, his body shuddering.

“What’s wrong?” But I already knew.

“The symptoms are worsening. It’s becoming harder to control them, away from my realm.”

He sounded breathless, like it was an effort to speak. My anger vanished as I took his hand, trying not to flinch at the ice of his skin. I reached for the lotus within, to lend him the strength as I’d done before—but he shook his head.

“It won’t work this time; the damage is too far gone.”

He stood, weaving on his feet. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, which he swiftly wiped away as though unwilling to let me see it. I’d seen him weakened before . . . but not like this.

The air shimmered around us, crowded with flecks of light that streaked from him—a beacon to those hunting us. “I can’t control my magic. You must go. The Wuxin will sense this; they’ll come soon.” His words emerged unevenly, his body pulled taut as he stalked to the horses, then untied mine and thrust its reins at me. “Find someplace safe to hide, far from here. Queen Caihong will send aid once the skies are unsealed. Don’t be afraid of her. Tell her what happened . . . she will protect you.”

I shook my head. Not just because I didn’t trust her but because I didn’t want to leave him. The halting way he spoke frightened me, as did the wildness in his gaze—like his restraint was about to snap. “What about you?”

“I will keep the Wuxin away as long as I can.”

“No!” My vehemence startled us both. “I will not leave you—”

My voice cut off as he raised a finger to my lips. The hairs lifted along my arms and the back of my neck, my skin prickling with familiar dread.