Page 30 of The Immortal’s Mark

Chapter 6

Significant

Emperor Ren

The jade comb is warm in my hands.

I have held it for an hour now, perhaps longer. Dawn touches the paper screens—pale gold, winter light—and I am still here, still not sleeping, still turning my mother’s last gift between my fingers.

I do not examine why I cannot sleep. The examination would require honesty I am not prepared to offer myself.

Heat flares at the base of my skull.

Today. Tianlong’s voice, sudden and serious. Bring her.

I set the comb down. The dragon has been interested in the assassin since the night she arrived—commenting on her scent, her age, the impossible fact of her existence. But this is different. This is not idle curiosity.

The investigation does not require—

I do not ask twice, little flame.

The warmth in my skull intensifies briefly, then settles. Tianlong’s requests are not requests. This is known.

I rise. The morning routine is automatic: robes, the seal of office, the face I wear for the empire. My hands are steady. My thoughts are not.

I will ask her. She will say something inappropriate. The dragon will find this amusing. I will find it—

I stop the thought before it finishes.

She is waiting outside my door.

This is not unusual. She is early—always early, I have noticed, though I do not know why I have noticed. Professional habit, perhaps. Or something else. I am not going to think about this.

“You were expecting me,” I say.

“You were pacing again.” She nods toward my chambers. “I can hear it through the walls. Either you were composing an imperial decree at dawn, or something was bothering you.”

I do not ask how she knows the difference. I suspect she has been listening to my movements for days, cataloging patterns, identifying tells. It is what I would do in her position.

It is unsettling that she is good at it.

“The dragon wishes to meet you.”

Her eyebrows rise. Just slightly. A crack in the armor she wears as constantly as I wear mine.

“Is this the part where I’m eaten? Because I should warn you, I taste terrible.” She tilts her head, perfectly serious. “Eight hundred years of poor life choices. Very bitter.”

The corner of my mouth moves.

I stop it. Not quickly enough.

You are already smiling, Tianlong observes, warmth curling through the bond. I can feel it.

I do not dignify this with a response.

“The dragon’s lair is beneath the palace,” I say instead. “The passage is not commonly known. You will speak of it to no one.”

“Naturally.” She falls into step beside me, and I am aware—inconveniently aware—of how easily she matches my pace. “Lead the way, Your Majesty. I’ve never been eaten by a dragon before. Might as well add it to the list.”