“Oh, I could have had you.” He spoke with infuriating assurance. “I could have taken you and your beloved that day by the Jade Palace. A tempting thought, and I would have done it, if all I had wanted was to ‘win.’ I want so much more than that; I want you to want me, too.”

I swallowed hard, reminding myself of his capacity for deceit. “You want the impossible.”

“You are stubborn, Xingyin. Except you are not as indifferent to me as you claim to be.”

Anger seared, and I was glad to cling to it. “Even if I felt anything for you, it would not matter. I could never trust you again.”

“You trust me enough to guard your back,” he pointed out.

“I trust that you do not want me dead. At least, not yet. When we want different things—that is the moment when trust really matters, when its true worth shines,” I said fiercely.

He stepped closer, his sleeve grazing mine, his voice deepening with intensity. “Believe this, then—for I swear it upon my family, my kingdom, and my honor. When I won the crown and lost you, it was a hollow victory. I regretted all that was lost between us, all I had destroyed—for nothing was worth losing you.”

He spoke with such fire and passion, so different from his usual restraint—kindling something in me that I struggled to suppress. And though the walls I had built against him went wide and high, his words still pierced my heart. I rebuked myself for my wavering resolve. If I had learned anything from the past, it was that promises were easily made, twisted, and broken. I was no longer an easy dupe; I would accept his help, and no more.

“Don’t speak to me of such things. They belong in the past.” The barest quaver shook my voice, which I hoped he did not hear.

His eyes searched my face. “Can’t we leave the rest in the past, too—the hate, mistrust, and lies?”

“No, we cannot. Do not ask me for more than I can give.”

“I will be happy with any part that you will give me. Though it will not stop me hoping for more, for all of you, however long it takes.”

I did not reply, ignoring the quickening of my pulse as I strode ahead. And though I could feel his gaze upon my back, I did not turn. I would not allow such emotions to cloud my heart or dull my resolve. For the path before me was fraught with danger, and even should I succeed, rife with pain.

Yet one thought burrowed into my consciousness, that while nothing Wenzhi said or did could excuse what he had done, while he had never been the honorable immortal I had once thought he was … neither was he quite the monster I had believed him to be.

Chapter 17