Page 36 of The Immortal’s Mark

“That’s either very romantic or very concerning,” she says finally. “I can’t decide which.”

“Perhaps both.”

“Perhaps.” She smiles. Small, genuine, nothing like her armor. “Goodnight, Your Majesty.”

“Goodnight.”

She disappears into her chambers. The door closes.

I stand in the corridor for longer than I should, aware that I am being foolish, unable to care. The jade comb is still in my pocket—I have been carrying it all day, I realize. My hand finds it now, the smooth familiar weight, the last gift from a mother I barely remember. I did not know then that everything was about to change. I did not know that I would never see her again, that the throne would swallow the boy I was and leave only the emperor behind.

I do not know why I am thinking of this now.

Interesting, Tianlong murmurs, distant and amused.

I do not dignify this with a response either. But I do not release the comb.

As I walk back to my chambers, past the silk hangings and the bronze braziers and the guards who see everything and understand nothing, I find that I am still thinking about her.

The way she did not kneel before the dragon.

The way she sat in my secret garden like she belonged there.

The way she looked at me and saw something real, something beneath the titles and the masks and the twenty-two years of performing emperor for an empire that never stops watching.

Significant, Tianlong had said.

I do not know what that means. Four days ago, she tried to kill me. Four days ago, she was a problem to be solved, a threat to be neutralized, an assassin to be either executed or exploited.

Now she is—

I do not finish the thought. The finishing would require an honesty I am not prepared to offer myself.

But as I enter my chambers and set the jade comb on my desk, I find that my hand is not quite steady.

And for the first time in twenty-two years, I do not know what to do with myself.