Page 103 of The Immortal’s Mark

Your hands have formed fists beneath the table.

I am perfectly fine.

You are projecting so loudly that I am experiencing your emotions, and I must tell you, this is extremely tedious.

Then stop listening.

I cannot stop listening. We are bonded. This is the bargain you made when you were twelve. I feel what you feel. A pause. Your jealousy tastes like copper, since you were wondering.

He is touching her wrist.

The young man’s hand rests on her arm, casual and proprietary, and he is smiling at her with the easy confidence of someone who has never considered that he might not get what he wants.

I am across the room before I realize I am moving.

My arm slides around her waist. Casual. Possessive. Unmistakably claiming.

“Husband,” she says, and her voice is smooth, amused, revealing nothing of whatever she is thinking. “I was just learning about the lantern festival.”

The young man’s smile falters. His eyes move from her face to my hand on her hip, to the expression I am not entirely controlling.

“We should go.” My voice is steady. The rest of me is not. “We have preparations.”

“Preparations?” She tilts her head, and I can see the laughter threatening at the corners of her mouth. “For what?”

“Husband things.”

Husband things. Tianlong says. Truly, your eloquence astounds. Three thousand years I have waited for a bonded worthy of my wisdom, and this is what I get. Husband things.

I steer her toward the door. The young man does not follow. I do not look back to check.

Outside, the air is cool and my heart is pounding and I have absolutely no idea what I am doing.

“Husband things?” she says.

“I panicked,” I admit.

“You’re the emperor. You’ve negotiated treaties.”

“Treaties do not flirt with you.”

The words hang between us. I hear them, and I cannot take them back, and I am not entirely certain I want to.

Her expression shifts. Something warm moves through her eyes, something I do not have a name for. She leans toward me, just slightly, and I can see her finding this endearing rather than ridiculous—can see her tucking this moment away somewhere soft.

“Are you jealous?”

“Emperors do not get jealous.”

“Your dragon is laughing at you.”

“I am,” Tianlong confirms aloud. “Loudly. This is the finest entertainment I have had in centuries.”

“I’m glad my suffering amuses you both,” I say.

“Always,” Lián says. And then, softer: “The jealousy is cute, though.”

“Did she just call the Emperor of the Jade Throne cute?”