Page 4

“Come on, Ryn!” Heva’s raspy shout tore over the raging howls. The torch fires went in and out of focus; sharp clear lines of flame one second, a blur of yellow the next.

Ryn dragged herself to her feet. It was clear that whatever kindness she’d shown Faro this morning wouldn’t make him go easy on her. She lifted her gaze to his, seeing more than just his need to destroy her. She saw fear, etched into the crease between his brows, in the downturned corners of his mouth, in the gloss making his hazel eyes shine. He reached up and brushed a finger along the red ribbon at his neck, his throat bobbing.

Fear. The fear of losing. The fear of dying.

That was not a fear Ryn shared.

Faro sprang for her; she sprang for him. They collided and shoved.

They both flew out of the circle at the same time.

2

XERXES

Xerxes had never experienced true heat until he met the desert. The flesh-stinging wind whispered tales of ancient paths once trod by kings of the past, of history and wars only remembered in old books hidden deep in the palace catacombs and not read nearly enough. This desert had seen too much. And now, the persistent dry path to dehydration, the wide throats of sinking sand, and the blood-boiling whispers of heat watched Xerxes with hungry eyes, waiting to bring him to his knees. During the day, the desert was an absolute monster.

At night was the only time it was bearable. By the mercy of the Divinities, the sun was eclipsed by the endless dunes, sending shadows creeping over the lake of dust and transforming it from daylight gold to moonlit silver. At night, the desert had a far different personality than it did during the day. At night, the desert hissed promises on chilly winds, breathed dry grains into shallow sand rivers that tricked one’s mind into thinking it was water, and laid traps of shadow-hidden sinking pools where one could step wrong and sink to the bottom of the gravelly sea. At night, the desert was a vast, silvery cage of hills beneath a black, star-scattered sky. Perfect terrain for a kingly beast to roam.

“They’re coming,” General Reza whispered, his breath a pale coil against a shield of rocks. Thirty men in Per-Siana navy camouflaged along the cracks of the cliff before them, barely taking in full breaths. An elite group of highly skilled men and women from provinces across Per-Siana with proven reputations for hunting: Division One.

Xerxes adjusted his sword in his grip, eyeing the metallic hills where, sure enough, a dozen men tiptoed over the sand with bows in their hands. The moon bleached their scarlet and bronze armour white.

Divinities, they were making this too easy.

“Take hostages,” Xerxes said. He glanced at General Reza to see if he would object. The man’s wild, gray-streaked beard stuck out in all directions below drooping eyelids that partially eclipsed his eyes—with age or exhaustion, Xerxes wasn’t sure. The General gave a small nod.

A horn blasted over the rocks, and Division One leapt from their hiding places. Most of the B’rei Mira spies froze, some turning to run as Xerxes’s division swarmed in and surrounded them. Xerxes grabbed a spy by the back of his collar, reaching around to put a sword at his throat. “I wouldn’t try to run. I enjoy a chase far too much, and things will end much worse for you once I catch you.” The words had no sooner left his lips when a new, unfamiliar horn shrieked over the desert, and Xerxes stilled.

“Your Majesty!” The tone of General Reza’s voice tore Xerxes’s gaze back. “It’s an ambush—” An arrow ripped through the darkness, spearing Reza’s shoulder and throwing him over a sand dune where he disappeared from sight, and Xerxes’s stomach dropped. The black sky lit up with fire arrows like wrath raining down from the Divinities.

Xerxes angled himself and shouted, “Take up defensive positions—!” An elbow flew into his mouth, and he stumbled off balance, barely catching the spy’s scarlet sleeve when he tried to run.

Shouts and screams lifted from the cliffside as Division One soldiers were pierced, arrows protruding from navy armour. Xerxes’s gaze flew toward the dune where the General had vanished. He snarled and kicked the spy into the sand, sheathing his sword and racing for the hill instead, leaping over the dune and descending in a glide down the opposite slope.

He spotted General Reza struggling to climb to his feet at the foot of the hill, the sand at his boots stained red. Xerxes growled a curse when he reached the bottom, ducking beneath Reza’s shoulder and sliding an arm around his middle. He half-carried the General up the slope as an arrow landed a foot away, sticking upright out of the sand. Xerxes glared at it. Another one struck a leafless tree by the rock hills, sending the branches up in flames and illuminating their path up the dune.

“You’re out in the open here, Your Majesty!” Reza rasped. Blood leaked through his fingers where he held tight to his shoulder. “You know full well you should leave me behind.”

“I’ll be fine. These enemy ambushers are in for a surprise.” The fools wouldn’t have attacked if they knew which division this was. Xerxes gritted his teeth as he dug his toes into the slope where the sand threatened to turn into a river and drag him and Reza back down.

“Still, you shouldn’t risk yourself for a soldier as ill as I am—”

“You’re all I have,” Xerxes shot back, then he bit his tongue and cursed his words. “Even if you weigh more than a horse,” he added with a mutter, adjusting his position beneath Reza’s arm. “And I’ve told you a hundred times now to call me Xerxes.”

Reza released a coarse moan, half muted by the shouting men over the hill. He gripped his shoulder around the B’rei Mira arrow still piercing his leathers. The fool wasn’t even wearing proper armour like Xerxes had told him to before they came.

“One of these days, Xerxes, the Divinities will take me, and you’ll have to figure this stuff out on your own,” Reza said.

Xerxes’s jaw hardened over any words of reply. He dragged his gaze over the hill as they reached the top and released an exasperated huff at the sight before him. Everything was on fire. Spare Division One soldiers rushed into the fight from where they’d been waiting as backup, striking down the B’rei Mira spies and raising their loaded bows to the clifftop toward the ambushing archers. After two dozen shots into the dark from Per-Siana bows, the fire arrows ceased.

“Capture the men on the cliff!” Reza shouted over the field. “Don’t let any get away!”

Per-Siana soldiers dispersed, a dozen racing up the cliff path.

“They know their duty. Come on.” Xerxes glanced at Reza’s blood-soaked leathers, calculating the amount of blood loss versus the distance back to camp. It was a long walk, and in the dark no less.

“That spy we interrogated lied to us,” Reza said as Xerxes hauled him along. “He led us right into a trap. I told you he wasn’t trustworthy.”