Page 5

I have nobody to tell. Nobody to even greet good morning and good night. “I understand,” I promise.

A shadow seems to sweep over the room as he draws in a quiet, nervous breath. “I thought . . . I thought I saw the crown prince Junyi himself.”

The moment Yuemo and Hanchen leave, carrying the herbs I’ve prescribed them and calling out their thanks from beyond the doorway, I let myself slump back on the worn chair. White dots prick my vision, and my head feels close to bursting.

But even my exhaustion can’t drag my heart down. I stare around the room—the grass-stained pestle, the plain hairpin lying on my dresser, the yellowed diagrams showing every vital point on the body, the faded floorboards, the blanket I’d knitted, then unraveled by hand instead of magic out of sheer boredom—and imagine myself leaving this place. Truly leaving for good. Going back to my old life; coming back to life, in a way. I can still remember what it was like, before. All the marvels of my childhood bedroom: the silk canopies, the luxurious patterned rugs, the closets overflowing with new robes, the tiered stands of lotus-shaped cakes and walnut cookies and sesame pudding. Glittering laughter from the hallways. Invitations to festivals, strolls through gardens, swims in the crystal ponds.

A briny breeze blows in through the window, fanning the sweat on my forehead. My eyes find the stretch of endless blue outside, that same old view of the sea. To think of all the days I’d spent gazing out from this spot, leaning as far against the windowsill as I could. Too far away from everything to even glimpse the Celestial Palace itself, only the distant silhouettes of dragons gliding through the clouds, serpentine tails flicking out behind them, their reflections shimmering like fish in the waves.

The dragons may look scary, but they’re very gentle creatures up close, my mother had told me all those centuries ago, her hand warm around mine as we wandered through the gardens of the Celestial Realm together, the dragons soaring overhead. Attendants and other gods stopped to smile and greet her as they passed, back when my parents weren’t considered traitors yet.

Can I ride one? I’d asked excitedly.

When you’re a little older, she’d promised with a laugh. You have to work on your teleportation skills first; I don’t want you thinking that dragons are the easiest form of transport.

My chest tightens at the memory, the sea salt stinging my eyes. Once my exile ends, one of the very first things I’ll do is seek out the dragons. Ride them through the clouds, over the sea and the spires—let the gods see me, the Celestial Healer in all her glory—before returning to my new home in the palace . . .

But a sudden flash of movement yanks me from my thoughts—

A flickering shadow. A ripple in the air.

That is all I see and feel before the god appears from nothing, standing on the opposite side of the room from me. He is clothed in robes of the deepest black, as if he has brought the night in with him; the entire cottage darkens in his presence. I can feel the divine energy radiating from him, yet it is unlike anything I have come across before. There are gods whose powers feel like the sway of a boat on an ocean, like a flame blazing through a forest, like the sweep of an eagle’s wings soaring over a mountain cliff.

But his power runs colder, deeper than the others. It is closer to the silver glimmer of moonlight through heavy mist, a marble staircase spiraling endlessly down. There is something unbearably melancholy about it, something that makes my breath freeze and my ribs tighten around my heart.

“Let us make this simple,” he murmurs in a voice just as cold as his divinity.

I tense.

He’s found me. These are the first bizarre, nonsensical words that skitter through my mind. I do not know where they came from; perhaps it is the way his gaze cuts to mine straightaway, or the deadly calm with which he regards me.

Without speaking another word, he steps closer, close enough for me to make out his face in fine detail.

It is a lovely face.

The surprising truth registers first, and then the perfect darkness of his eyes, the long ink strokes of his hair framing his cheekbones. His features are smooth but defined, like ice shaped over the centuries by melted streams, yet any possible softness is annulled by his utter lack of outward emotion. And despite the ancient power that stirs the air around him, he is young in appearance. In the Mortal Realm, he might be mistaken for someone not far over twenty years of age, though no mortal could ever possess such precise, terrifying beauty.

“Who are you?” I ask, rising to my full height and praying he does not notice the tired tremble of my knees.

“You already know me,” he says.

My brows furrow. “I doubt that. I don’t remember you at all.” Which, in itself, is perplexing. I have met or at least heard of almost every god to wander the Celestial Realm.

Something crosses over his face, but he continues with the same cool, steady tone. “Everyone knows me.” He looks around the cottage as he speaks, before his attention drifts to the peony I’d dropped earlier. The petals have already withered, perhaps crushed underfoot in my haste to treat Yuemo. “Some are curious about me, some are defiant toward me, but everybody fears me, and nobody can escape me.”

“Is that meant to be a riddle?” I purse my lips. “I have not heard one since my schooling years.”

“I’m not here for riddles,” he says quietly. “If you cannot figure it out, it does not matter. You will see for yourself soon enough.”

But I have already figured it out. My heart is beating so loud it’s distracting. Fear sloshes through my stomach, rising to my throat. I shift back, reaching inward for my power, but it is like scraping for remains at the bottom of an empty bowl. Too much of it has been expended already, and I am suddenly, horribly aware of how depleted my body is, how slow and sluggish everything feels.

He takes another step toward me, his hand lifted. It is all the more frightening that he moves without haste, as though he already knows how this will end.

“You’re the Death God,” I whisper, right as his cool fingers wrap around my wrist, and the world disappears.

Chapter Two

I open my eyes to darkness.