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No wonder the Intelligentsia couldn’t stand him. He was a monster to people he didn’t like.

“Careful,” Xerxes warned with a quiet grunt. A gust of wind tossed his hair when he added, “I’ve learned about the gods since infancy. Goddesses smell of heavenly metals and Damask roses. No goddess would smell like you.” With that, he turned his back to her and headed toward the pool. “I’ll be taking a bath first. You can go second, Gold Mortal,” he said.

Ryn bit down on her lips. She imagined racing from this oasis, grabbing Heva and escaping the camp. Bastone might not still be inclined to execute the kill order. By the time he told the King who Commander Adassah really was, Ryn would be long gone, a full night of running separating her from this King who’d sentenced her to prison.

Her feet impulsively turned toward the alley of rocks. She didn’t want to sleep so close to Xerxes in this camp anyway. She didn’t want to sleep at all. If she fell asleep, she’d just wake to the same realization that her home was gone, her cousin was gone, the palace was gone, and Xerxes’s friendship was no more. And even though the King she’d once cared about and had wanted to save was standing before her, about to go face a likely death in nine days’ time, he was further away than that. He was so far away that they would never find each other again.

Ryn’s feet charged, but not toward the alley. If she was going to escape and take her chances in the desert, she needed one last thing first: She needed to say to Xerxes what she hadn’t been granted the chance to say that day in the palace basement when he’d charged in, said his piece, and then left. The day she realized that their friendship wasn’t real, and that he would never see her as anything but an Adriel traitor.

She was owed this.

Her flesh tightened as she trampled grass. She would tell him everything—even who she was. And then she would tell him she cared nothing for him now. That she didn’t even care he’d thrown her in prison to die, she’d lived anyway. And then she’d fought for Per-Siana, for him, but she never would again. She only lived for her burn division now, and her Adriel people. And for El—she would tell him all that.

And then she would flee this camp, and she would never see King Xerxes again as long as she lived.

15

XERXES

The moon was just beginning to peek over the oasis, turning the pool water into rippling silver. Palm trees sang in a low frequency overhead, the breeze ruffling their tentacled feathers. A coconut dislodged and fell to the ground a few feet away. Xerxes eyed it, thinking of the nutty milk taste he’d get if he cracked it open.

Maybe he would after his bath—

A maiden swept in front of him, blocking the pool, keeping him from his bath. His skin tingled with itch and sand, and he huffed, folding his arms. Didn’t she realize he was to face a dangerous warlord king soon and this bath might be one of his last pleasures before he was captured or killed?

If he hadn’t just smelled her to confirm she was a human, he might have mistaken this maiden for a goddess again as she stood with her shoulders back menacingly, the moon’s silver kiss running along her gold-plated armour, the curls that had escaped her braid brushing sweetly across her neck. But she was certainly mortal. And now Xerxes wondered how much of her fighting technique he’d witnessed at the battle had been part of his dehydration delusion like the dark thunderous cloud overhead and the slithering shadows throughout the army. She was no god; she was just like everyone else. Though she was skilled, he had to admit that to himself even if he wouldn’t admit it aloud to her.

The maiden stood there without speaking, and he wondered if she couldn’t get her thoughts together. He tapped a finger against his bicep as he waited. He couldn’t see her expression behind the mask, couldn’t tell if she was startled, or bothered, or any number of things. He tried to peek through the thin eye slits in the dark. He was getting the strangest impression she was glaring.

“Take your mask off,” he decided, unfolding his arms. “Enough games. I want to see the person I’m speaking to.” It wasn’t that he needed to know what she looked like, but he supposed it left him bothered that he couldn’t decipher what she was thinking when he couldn’t read her face.

Commander Adassah blinked, her hard shoulders dropping an inch, her whole demeanor changing. She even scooted a step away, and Xerxes made a face. She was going to fall into the pool behind her if she moved back any further. Also—she wasn’t obeying his order. And he knew full well by now that she wasn’t deaf. “Didn’t you hear me? I told you to take off that mask—”

“I can’t.” Her voice sailed into him, a shattering sound splitting at the edges. He didn’t suspect her of crying, but he was sure if he could see her face, he would understand her tone better.

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” He released a scoffing sound. “I highly doubt that thing is glued to your cheeks, Maiden.” When she still didn’t move, he sighed. “If you have scars or dreadful burns you’re hiding, I assure you I won’t be bothered by the sight of anything beastly.”

Still, she didn’t do the one thing he asked. In fact, she brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and leaned to look around him at the path through the rock ledges. Her stance was strange, opposite to the standing at attention expected of a soldier. In fact, she looked like a rabbit who’d found itself in the sights of a wolf. She looked like…

Divinities, she looked like she might run.

“I’ll leave you to the oasis.” Her words were cold and detached all of a sudden. She walked wide around where he stood in the grass, disappearing from his view toward the pathway, her shadow rippling behind her over the ground.

Xerxes’s flesh tightened, a twisting sensation moving through his stomach as his toes twitched, as his leg jerked, nearly throwing him into motion. But he closed his eyes, keeping still.

“Don’t you know it’s a crime to depart from the King’s presence before you’ve been dismissed?” he asked. No response followed. “Don’t try running away from me, Commander Adassah.” He turned, finding her standing on the path between the rocks, half swallowed in shadow. “Something happens to me when I see someone trying to run. My whole body wants to break into chase,” he warned.

Still, she didn’t respond. Didn’t return to him as she should until he’d decided he was done with her. Didn’t take off her mask.

His eyes narrowed upon her slender frame, her thin arms in particular. Without her armour, she was nothing like the broad-shouldered warrior goddess his men were claiming her to be. Nothing like she was when she’d sailed into the fight yesterday and left dozens of B’rei Mira soldiers rolling in the sand. Xerxes took one slow step after her, aware of the rocks on both sides, caging her in. Aware of the best route to take to cut her off if he wanted. Of how fast she could probably go, versus how fast he would be.

“You make me want to chase you,” he admitted.

Nothing. No words. No reaction. Not even a movement of acknowledgement came from the maiden.

Xerxes’s mouth dragged into a frown. It was frustrating enough he couldn’t see her expressions, but when she refused to speak too, it made guessing what she’d do next impossible.

He released the tight breath he was holding and tore his eyes off her, landing them on the rocks, on the grass, on the sky. Everything else. “Just go.”