She nearly dropped the heavy thing.
“They will take you to the overlook above the front lines,” he said. “We will follow behind and meet you there with the cavalry.”
Luce turned to the chariot. It was basically a wooden platform atop a long axle connecting two great wooden wheels, drawn by two immense black horses. The carriage was made of shiny lacquered red wood and had space enough for about three people to sit or stand. A leather awning and curtains could be removed during battle, but for now, they hung down, giving the passenger some privacy.
Luce climbed up, passed through the curtains, and took a seat. It was padded with tiger skins. A driver with a thin mustache took the reins, and another soldier with drooping eyes and a battle-ax climbed up to stand at his side. At the crack of a whip, the horses broke into a gallop and she felt the wheels beneath her begin to turn.
As they rolled past the high, austere gates of the palace, sun streamed through pockets of fog onto a great expanse of green farmland to the west. The land was beautiful, but Luce was too nervous to appreciate it.
“Bill,” she whispered. “Help?”
No answer. “Bill?”
She peeked outside the curtains, but that only attracted the attention of the droopy-eyed soldier who was supposed to be the king’s bodyguard during the journey. “Your Majesty, please, for your safety, I must insist.” He gestured for Luce to withdraw.
Luce groaned and leaned back against the padded chariot seat. The paved streets of the city must have ended, for the ride became incredibly bumpy. Luce was flung against the seat, feeling like she was on a wooden roller coaster. Her fingers gripped the plush fur of the tiger skin.
Bill hadn’t wanted her to do this. Was he teaching her a lesson by bailing now when she most needed his help?
Her knees rattled with each jolt in the road. She had absolutely no idea how she’d find De. If the king’s guards wouldn’t even let her look out past a curtain, how were they going to let her near the front lines?
But then:
Once, thousands of years ago, her past self had sat alone in this chariot, disguised as the deceased king. Luce could feel it—even if she hadn’t joined with her past body, Lu Xin would have been here right now.
Without the aid of some weird ornery gargoyle. And, more importantly, without all the knowledge that Luce had amassed so far on her quest. She had seen Daniel’s unbridled glory in Chichén Itzá. She had witnessed and finally understood the depths of his curse in London. She’d seen him go from suicidal in Tibet to saving her from a rotten life in Versailles. She’d watched him sleep through the pain of her death in Prussia as if he were under a spell. She’d seen him fall for her even when she was snotty and immature in Helston. She’d touched the scars of his wings in Milan and understood how much he’d given up in Heaven just for her. She’d seen the tortured look in his eyes when he lost her in Moscow, the same misery over and over again.
Luce owed it to him to find a way to break this curse.
The chariot jolted to a stop, and Luce was nearly flung off her seat. Outside, there was a thunderous pounding of horses’ hooves—which was strange because the king’s chariot was standing still.
Someone else was out there.
Luce heard a clash of metal and a long, pained grunt. The chariot was jostled roughly. Something heavy thumped to the ground.
There was more clashing, more grunting, a harsh cry, and another thump on the ground. Her hands trembling, Luce parted the leather curtains the tiniest bit and saw the droopy-eyed solder lying in a pool of blood on the ground beneath.
The king’s chariot had been ambushed.
The curtains before her were thrust apart by one of the insurgents. The foreign fighter raised his sword.
Luce couldn’t help herself: She screamed.
The sword faltered in the air—and then, the warmest feeling washed over Luce, flooding her veins, calming her nerves, and slowing the pounding of her heart.
The fighter on the chariot was De.
His leather helmet covered his black, shoulder-length hair, but it left his face wonderfully unobstructed. His violet eyes stood out against his clear olive skin. He looked baffled and hopeful at the same time. His sword was drawn, but he held it as if he sensed he shouldn’t strike. Quickly, Luce lifted her helmet over her head and flung it onto the seat.
Her dark hair cascaded down, her locks tumbling all the way to the bottom of her bronze breastplate. Her vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears.
“Lu Xin?” De gathered her tightly into his arms. His nose grazed hers and she rested her cheek on his, feeling warm and safe. He seemed unable to stop smiling. She lifted her head and kissed the beautiful curve of his lips. He answered her kiss hungrily, and Luce soaked up every wonderful moment, feeling the weight of his body against hers, wishing there weren’t so much heavy armor between them.
“You’re the last person I expected to see,” De said softly.
“I could say the same for you,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“When I joined forces with the Zhou rebels, I vowed to kill the king and get you back.”
“The king is—Oh, none of that matters anymore,” Luce whispered, kissing his cheeks and his eyelids, holding tight around his neck.
“Nothing matters,” De said. “Except that I’m with you.”
Luce thought back to his luminous glow back in Chichén Itzá. Seeing him in these other lives, in places and times that were so far from home—each one confirmed how much she loved him. The bond between them was unbreakable—it was clear from the way they looked at each other, the way they could read each other’s thoughts, the way one made the other feel whole.
But how could she forget the curse they had been suffering through for eternity? And the quest she was on to break it? She had come too far to forget that there were obstacles still in the way of her truly being with Daniel.
Every life had taught her something so far. Surely this life must hold its own key. If only she knew what to search for.
“We had word the king would arrive here to direct the troops down below,” De said. “The rebels had planned an ambush of the king’s cavalry.”
“They’re on their way,” Luce said, remembering Huang’s instructions. “They’ll be here any moment.”
Daniel nodded. “And when they get here, the rebels will expect me to fight.”
Luce winced. She’d been with Daniel twice already when he was gearing up for battle, and both times it had led to something she’d never wanted to see again. “What should I do while you’re—”
“I’m not going into battle, Lu Xin.”
“What?”
“This isn’t our war. It never was. We can stay and fight other people’s battles or we can do as we have always done and choose each other over everything else. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yes,” she whispered. Lu Xin did not know the deeper meaning of De’s words, but Luce was nearly sure that she understood—that Daniel loved her, that she loved him, and that they were choosing to be together.
“They will not let us go easily. The rebels will kill me for deserting.” He replaced her helmet on her head. “You will have to fight your way out of this, too.”
“What?” she whispered. “I can’t fight. I can barely lift this thing”—she gestured at the halberd. “I can’t—”
“Yes,” he said, imparting profound meaning with the single word. “You can.”
The carriage filled with light. For a moment Luce thought that this was it, the moment when her world would ignite, when Lu Xin would die, when her soul would be exiled to the shadows.
But that didn’t happen. The glow shone out of De’s chest. It was the glow of Daniel’s soul. It wasn’t as strong or as radiant as it had been at the Mayan sacrifice, but it was just as breathtaking. It reminded Luce of the glow of her own soul when she’d first seen Lu Xin. Maybe she was learning to truly see the world as it was. Maybe, at last, illusion was falling away.