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That was enough to shut the General up.

Xerxes spotted his sword leaning against the medicine bed. He grabbed it and charged out of the tent, kicking up sand. A twist tore at his chest muscles, and he beat a hand against them, wincing when he quickly remembered he was injured there.

The morning sun was bringing in a heat wave and sweat formed on his brow in seconds. He walked until he found himself on the outskirts of camp, facing a blank canvas of desert apart from a collection of jagged black rocks nearby. The large bird he’d heard before circled overhead, eyeing Xerxes standing there like it wished to swoop down and take a bite out of him. In this moment, Xerxes wouldn’t care if it did. If it struck and bit at all his flesh and left him open and raw. He was sure he wouldn’t even feel it.

Heartstealer trials.

They were two forbidden words in the desert. He should have Reza’s tongue removed for daring to utter them in the first place.

His hand drifted back up to his chest where a slow, steady beat was left, pushing him forward in a direction he didn’t know, reminding him the wretched thing could still work, still clung to a thread of life. Could still feel.

No one amongst the tens of thousands of men and women in the Per-Siana army knew that Ryn was showing up in Xerxes’s dreams. A familiar face amidst his shadow-filled nightmares that made his sleeping heart begin to beat. He both hated finding her there and needed her to stay there when she came. Sometimes she was the reason he didn’t want to wake up—a cruel escape from the war that haunted his days. In his half-sleep, he’d see her entering the Hall of Stars in her glittering mosaic dress at the palace, he’d see her fidgeting with a spoon at the end of the table during Heartstealer etiquette lessons, he’d see her scaling down the side of the palace wall when she wasn’t supposed to leave her room. He’d see the way she looked at him, like he wasn’t a monster.

Lies. Pretending. Adriel.

Divinities have mercy.

Curse his blackened heart for still missing her so much.

He imagined her raising her sword in a pathetic attempt to stop his rage back in the courtyard during the Initiation Ritual. She couldn’t even perform the ritualistic Weylin dance in that outrageous artist-style armour. She’d looked like a toddler trying to keep up with adults.

He swiped the weak smile off his face as soon as he realized it was there. Then he knocked a knuckle off the side of his head to clear it, dropped his hand, and gazed up at the bird. The giant bird looked back with challenge in its beady black eyes. It released a sharp call through the skies, a threat to all those down below that it was hungry.

Well, so was Xerxes.

“Your Majesty.”

Xerxes heard Joshua’s celestial bells approaching. The eight silver bells attached to Joshua’s belt were meant to bring him luck and favour with the Celestial Divinities. The fool didn’t realize he was just alerting everyone to his presence and one day he’d be the reason Division One tipped off the enemy when they were trying to stage an ambush.

“What is it?” Xerxes asked.

“There are five Per-Siana divisions stationed not too far from the oasis. Two are accessible. If we can make it to the oasis, we can call in the two accessible divisions to strengthen our numbers before you retaliate on the B’rei Mira army by the salt cliffs. The cliffs are near the oasis too.”

Xerxes turned around in surprise. “Who told you I was going to the salt cliffs?” he asked.

Joshua’s thin lips did a variety of movements before any sound came out. “Well… General Reza sent me to inform you. I thought you’d given him the assignment to plan this…”

Xerxes watched him tug at the frayed sleeve of his leathers and shift his weight on his sandals. The soldier’s ears went a special shade of red when he was put on the spot like this. His dry lips were starting to crack, too—a harsh reminder that water jugs were going empty across the camp.

The oasis had water. Maybe going there first was the best choice.

Xerxes sighed and turned back to the bird circling lower now. Just out of reach, gloating.

Once again, General Reza was right.

The ink on Xerxes’s neck itched, and he’d slept in his own sweat so many nights, he no longer remembered the feeling of sliding into clean bedding after a refreshing bath in the palace pools. A deep scrubbing in the oasis pool would be heavenly. “Why are the other three divisions not accessible?” he asked. “You said five of our divisions are near the oasis.”

“Divisions Ten, Eleven, and Twenty-Eight are reported to be trapped at Sindahir Valley in a stalemate,” Joshua said, scratching the back of his head, and Xerxes made a face.

“A stalemate? What, by the Divinities, does that mean?”

Joshua shrugged and dug the toe of his sandals into the ground. “I’m not sure, Your Majesty. I can’t imagine what could keep three whole divisions stuck. The B’rei Mira armies at Sindahir Valley aren’t any bigger in size than ours there. It’s left a lot of us puzzled.”

Xerxes sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Useless strategists,” he muttered. “Let’s pack up camp and get to the oasis then. We’ll stage an attack on the salt cliffs from there.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll get Division One moving.” Joshua gave a small bow, flashing his red ears to the desert.

“Wait.” Xerxes laid his hand flat and glanced up at the sky again. “Give me your bow first.”