“Those numbers might be exaggerated,” Karana went on, “but he’s definitely killed a lot of people. He terrifies me, and he should scare you. I think you should stay far, far away from him.
“But in the end, that’s your choice. So that brings me to what I need to tell you.
“If Aka isn’t your father, you aren’t betrothed. You promised to marry the man your father chose. As far as I know, your father didn’t choose anyone.”
Jin barely processed Karana’s words, as she was still trying to envision Bai as a fighter who had killed more people than she could remember. When she finally registered what he’d said, she pulled back. “I’m not betrothed to Xiao? I don’t have to break a vow to end the betrothal?”
Karana smiled lightly. “Have you already forgotten my story?”
“No,” she told him, “I’ll never forget that story, but to tell you the truth, Karana, it doesn’t pertain to me. Your lover was mortal, a worshipper of you. A relationship between Bai and I would be of equals.”
“Even given his age? Even given he can make my fire arrows disappear with a blink of his eye?”
That made Jin smile, just a little. “Come, let’s return to Tsuku. I need to bathe, and you need to charm the Moon Deer.”
BAI’S worry that the inhabitants of Tsuku would mock him for his failure to return with Jin proved unfounded.
Instead, as soon as he passed through Tsuku’s main gate, three granddaughters of the Moon Deer cornered him and begged him to play the guzheng for them. One suggested a duet, offering to play her koto, which another immediately criticized, saying that the koto and the guzheng were too similar – she offered to play flute.
Bai politely said he wished to bathe and change before any performance, and all three promptly offered to scrub his back.
He had not quite managed to extricate himself from their flirting when Jin and Karana returned. He watched them pass through the high wooden gate, and though she was twenty feet away, Jin’s eyes met his immediately. Then those golden orbs flicked first to granddaughter number three’s hand, pressed against his chest, and then to granddaughter number one’s fingers, resting on his arm.
A red flush raced across her cheeks. Lady Atsuko approached Jin and Karana, impeding Bai’s view of them. The two women spoke quietly, too soft for Bai to hear their words, and then Atsuko led Jin into the hall. Neither of them looked back.
Karana looked as if he wanted to say something, but apparently his vanity was more pressing, as he wiped a smudge of makeup with his hand and then followed the women into the hall.
Bai grit his teeth. He tried several more times to leave the three flirtatious granddaughters until his patience was gone. He abruptly pulled away from them, causing granddaughter number three to stumble – she had been all but leaning against him – and said, “I am going to my room now.”
Of course, the result of his rudeness was that none of the granddaughters offered to guide him. He removed his shoes and donned a pair of white cotton slippers in the entry, then wandered to the right, hoping that the guest rooms were still the same. He almost asked an unfamiliar immortal for guidance, but the youth took in Bai’s white hair with round eyes and scampered in the opposite direction. However, Lady Atsuko found him soon after, so perhaps the stranger had aided him after all.
Impulsively, he said, “Lady Atsuko, please bring me to your father.”
“I’m sorry, First,” she bowed, “but my father is asleep.”
Bai compressed his lips to seal in a curse. “Please, Lady Atsuko. I have not seen him in fifteen millennia. I very much want to see him today.”
Lady Atsuko looked away, and Bai knew she was annoyed by his rudeness. “If you can wait fifteen millennia, can you not wait one more day?”
“I cannot,” Bai insisted, even though it thoroughly violated the etiquette of this house.
So Lady Atsuko bowed again and led him through the wooden corridors to her father’s room. She slid open the door and gestured.
Bai froze in horror. Was this old man the Moon Deer?
He had been shocked to see Neela’s white hair, but she looked like a girl compared to the being on the bed.
The Moon Deer had withered to nothing but bone and loose skin, and though he was sleeping, his breathing was ragged and irregular.
Bai stepped back and Lady Atsuko slid the door closed again.
“I’m sorry,” he said to her and made his own bow. “I never imagined...”
“Yes, you seem to be aging in reverse, while my father has compensated for your lost years.”
Bai said nothing, feeling ashamed that he had forced her to bring him here.
“I will show you to your room now?”
“Please,” Bai said meekly.
“We’ve put you in the usual one, First, though I’m afraid it is more colorful than you prefer. I redecorated it extensively five millennia ago to suit the God of War. But perhaps–” she caught herself.
Bai gave her a curious look, but the response was the shush-shush of her slippers along the wooden floor. Finally they reached a rice paper door beneath an intricate carving of a woodhawk perched among cherry blossoms. Bai believed it used to be a kind of starburst pattern, but he wasn’t sure.
“Its private bath is mostly unchanged – just go through the inner doors,” Lady Atsuko said with a bow.
Bai slid open the door and blinked at the vibrancy of the room. Compared to most of the hall, which featured unstained wood with white rice paper doors and cream walls, this room was rich with crimson, gold, and bits of blue. However, as Bai stepped inside and slid the door closed behind him, he found he rather liked the various elements. He paused before a large changing screen with several panels that featured two swallows diving among wisteria branches. The painting was excellent – perhaps rougher than Bai would have done, but it felt more passionate for it – and though its background was gleaming gold, it did not feel ostentatious.
He started to walk around the screen to strip, but paused to examine a patchwork cushion of red, yellow, and blue silks. There were several patterns, yet the odd bits of cloth created a beautiful whole. It reminded him of Jin – it was too bad that this room hadn’t been given to her. She would have loved it.
He removed his clothes, folded them neatly, and wrapped a towel about his waist. Opposite him were three more sliding doors, made of pine planks rather than rice paper. A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine as Bai remembered the glorious heat of the Tsuku hot springs, and he slid open one of the doors to reveal a small outdoor courtyard.
He could see steam rising from the corner just past a bamboo thicket. The onsen must have been uncovered in anticipation of his bathing. He substituted his cotton slippers for rattan ones just outside his door and made his across the white stepping stones. When he finally had a clear view of the onsen, he froze.
Jin reclined back against the rocks, completely naked but for the gold chain that held Kunjee and the peacock pendant between her breasts and her unbound hair drifting around her.
Bai coalesced the steam densely around her, hiding her nudity.
She must have felt the shift in the air, for she opened her eyes. Bai cursed himself. He should have simply turned and left.
Her lips parted, and Bai grew ten degrees hotter.
“Bai?” she looked sweetly confused, and then so hopeful that he would have preferred a punch to the gut.
“A mistake was made. Lady Atsuko apparently put us in the same room.”
“Oh.” Her lashes swept downward, masking her gold eyes.
“I’ll go rectify it,” he told her. But he didn’t move away yet, still thinking about what the mist hid.
“You don’t have to,” she told him. “I don’t mind...”
“You’re betrothed to someone else,” he reminded her. “It’s different than on the Kuanbai. Being in such close quarters here will lead to all sorts of gossip.”
Her lashes swept u
pward, and then she rose as well. Bai quickly adjusted the mist to cloak her.
“I’m not. Bai, I’m not. I made a vow to marry according to my father’s wishes, but Aka is not my father! We could be together.”
Bai took a step back. “I’m going to talk to Lady Atsuko.”
She frowned. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Yes – because Aka isn’t your father, you aren’t betrothed to Xiao.” He turned, not sure why he wasn’t gathering her into his arms instead.
He heard splashing behind him, so he wasn’t totally shocked when Jin grabbed his arm. He kept his eyes averted.
“What are you thinking?” When the silence stretched, she cried, “Talk to me!”
He opened his mouth but shut it when no words came.
“Have you changed your mind?” she asked suddenly. “Seeing the immortals here – you have options. Maybe you just want a lover, and I wasn’t special after all.”
Bai might not be as experienced as Xiao, but even he knew this was the moment where he whirled around, declared his undying love, and kissed her passionately. And he wanted to – at least a big part of him did. But another part shouted that he wasn’t ready, that he couldn’t bear to fall in love with another woman who was going to die. He pulled away from her, and a moment later he discarded his towels for his clothes. He didn’t need to hurry though – she hadn’t followed.
When Bai slipped from the room, he didn’t go looking for Atsuko. Instead, he broke the Moon Deer’s teleportation ban. He reappeared on a snow cap, the top of Taitou, Tsuku and Jin far below him. His hands were shaking, and he was barely conscious of a view that mortals risked their lives to see.
He sat in the snow, welcoming the way the cold brought him to the present. It had been too long since he meditated, and he let his consciousness drift more deeply than he had since Jin broke into his garden and pulled him from his introspection.
His power slid into the snow, which amplified it much like the Great Willow had in Liushi. He felt the world beneath him, all around him, and he started untangling its essence to settle his own mind.
Such was his agitation that it took him fifteen minutes to realize he was trying to know the unknowable – and it wasn’t Jin.
Chapter 14: How the Sea Dragon Roared
IF the Yanou had been fast when the sailors steered it, it practically flew now that it was under the Sea Dragon’s command. The speed dredged up an old resentment in Nanami’s breast, one that she had thought long forgotten – how slowly the dinghy that bore her to exile on land had drifted, despite her own attempts to speed it. Her father had wanted her to suffer under the sun, to drag out her agony. The resentment grew so big that it gagged her.
When they were close to the palace, the Yanou began to ride lower in the water and within moments, the sea was even with the deck. Nanami had experienced this far too many times to count, but Xiao’s jaw dropped and he grabbed Nanami’s arm.
“We need to teleport now!” he said, and he looked adorably confused at Nanami’s chuckle.
“The Sea Palace is beneath the waves,” she reminded him – or perhaps told him. She was constantly surprised by what Xiao didn’t know. “Don’t worry – we won’t drown. The water around us will become an air pocket, as it is at the Sea Palace.”
Because it took her mind off her worries and because she liked to look at him, Nanami watched his expression closely as the prow of the Yanou swung down forty-five degrees. Xiao grabbed the rail with one hand and Nanami with the other, keeping them both from sliding, his jaw clenched. An air pocket silently encompassed even the Yanou’s sails. And then the ship continued to sail, just as it had on the surface.
Xiao shook his head in bemusement, his eyes locked on the deep blue water surrounding them, his hands not-quite touching it. “This doesn’t make sense. We should float. How...” There were apparently too many questions for him to choose just one.
“But you transforming into a crow makes sense?” Nanami didn’t bother to hide her amusement. “The air extends below the boat as well, so we fall into it,” she explained idly.
Xiao turned to look at her then, blinking several times. Nanami felt bold and strangely happy. I should have gone home years ago, she thought to herself. Told the old man what I thought of him. It was weighing on me more than I realized.
She collected Xiao’s hand from the bannister and pulled it toward the water. “You can touch it. There’s not actually a barrier, just a place where the magic leaves the water alone.”
Together their hands pierced the water wall, and Xiao pulled her tighter against him, a seemingly reflexive reaction. It was nice – comforting.
He’s mine, and I’m his, in some way we weren’t before, Nanami thought to herself. Even if we aren’t ‘lovers’ yet, we’ve accepted each other. Foolishly, the thought made tears prick her eyes, and as she blinked them away, an unwelcome memory intruded.
The sea had been so dark that it had almost been black. Just beyond the air of her boat – nothing more than a dinghy – the water roiled, as if to remind her that she lived or died at the Sea Dragon’s pleasure. She had fought tears then too – angry and bitter tears.
Xiao, with his almost unbearably keen awareness, turned Nanami in his arms and one hand cradled her face as the other slipped behind her back. “What’s troubling you?”
“I was just remembering – the day I was banished. It wasn’t enough for him to scold me in front of the entire household, he refused to let me teleport away. Instead, he sent me away on the smallest, poorest dinghy there was, and I had to ride by myself for weeks before it reached Po.”
Xiao’s brows knit. “But he gave you supplies...?”
Nanami’s smile was bitter. “I’m a daughter of the Sea. It nourished and clothed me.”
Xiao pulled her in for a tighter hug, his chin resting on the crown of her head. Even as his embrace soothed the old hurt, a new fear rose in her. Would Xiao be in danger at the Sea Palace? Surely he would be considered too valuable as a potential ally... or would they see him as the enemy?
“You shouldn’t have offended Salaana on my behalf...”
Xiao began to run his fingers through the hair loose at her nape. “I may have offended Salaana, but I doubt she’s willing to burn the bridge yet. They will want the support of my parents, of course, though it’s hard to say if that will offer me any protection. But,” and his hand stilled, so that he could tilt her face up, “if it becomes dangerous, I’ll get us out. Just stay near me, alright?”
Nanami nodded. Her throat was too tight for words. She captured the hand that cradled her cheek and turned back to the railing. She pointed to a large school of sanma, glinting green blades in the gloom.
Xiao paused a moment, then once more slipped his arms about her waist, and offered a perfunctory exclamation for the sanma. As the Yanou plunged deeper into the ocean, it grew darker, until they were surrounded by the rich indigo that had birthed her father. The dark felt familiar, safe to Nanami, and she could see in the gloom better than most, but it occurred to her that Xiao might wish for light. He refused her offer to fetch an oil lamp though.
“I am Laughter in the Shadows,” he reminded her. “The dark doesn’t bother me.”
She supposed Hei must see in the dark even better than her father.
The fish grew more wondrous, and Xiao’s admiration grew more sincere. When a silver oarfish brushed the air pocket near their faces, its body nearly as thick as Xiao’s torso and at least three times longer than he was tall, Xiao jumped back, still holding Nanami, and the two of them fell in a tangle.
Nanami laughed, and Xiao flushed, so she leaned forward and firmly pressed her lips to his own. It was the third time they kissed that day, but unlike the first two, Xiao didn’t seem inclined to stop.
He smoothly flipped Nanami onto her back, letting some of his weight press her into the Yanou’s wooden deck. She grew intensely aware of his body, of his size. Xiao’s hand burned its
way down her side, his fingers spanning her rib cage. And yet for all the strength in his hand, he moved it carefully, as if she was fragile. She liked that. Nanami wrapped her handless arm around the back of his neck, locking him close to her, then explored the muscles of his back with her hand. One of his thighs slipped between her legs, and a welcome pressure made her gasp with pleasure.
Just as the first time they kissed, in the Wood Pavilions, Nanami felt so overwhelmed by the physical that the world threatened to collapse to just the two of them. This time she welcomed that, living only in the present.
Nanami was abruptly reminded that the rest of creation did in fact still exist when a loud male voice demanded, “What is this?”
XIAO smoothly readjusted Nanami’s shirt so that her shoulders were completely covered before turning to face the group that had assembled behind them.
A middle-aged man stood slightly in front of the rest of them, seemingly distinguishing himself as the leader. His dark hair was arranged in a simple topknot, and his soft, round face was sandwiched between a neat square beard and thick wild eyebrows. His robe was deceptively simple. Waves embroidered in the same dark blue as the cloth were barely perceptible, despite the many glowing lanterns that floated around the group. Xiao guessed he was probably brother number six or number eight and offered his most insouciant smile.
“It is foreplay, a prelude to sexual intercourse that makes it more enjoyable. I suggest you pray to me, and quickly, for the sake of any future partners. Then again, if you still can’t recognize it at your age, I suppose their existence is unlikely.”
Xiao leapt lightly to his feet as the man processed his words, a dull red tinging his round cheeks and his small eyes narrowing to slits.
Xiao was a good head taller than anyone in the group – it seemed slight stature was a family trait – and he could see past them to the predictably indigo walls of the palace. The Yanou was at a dock, of sorts, and the air pocket of their ship had merged with a larger air pocket that enveloped the entire palace. “I see we have reached the Sea Palace,” he observed, and was quite pleased that he managed to sound bored, even though the reality of a palace on the ocean floor was, well, awe-inspiring. “You really should work on your welcome,” he told the red-faced man.
Vows of Gold and Laughter (The Immortal Beings Book 1) Page 30