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“Did you hear anything about the King’s return?” Ryn asked before he could speak. “What are the soldiers saying about—”

“General Reza has put together a report on you,” he stated in a loud whisper. A bead of water dripped down his cheek and fell off his jaw, hitting his damp shirt, and Ryn wondered if he hadn’t used a towel when he emerged from the pool.

“What do you mean a report?” she asked, giving up on her knotted hair.

“He had an official Folke investigation done into your background, Estheryn. He’s got information on you that could ruin everything. I shouldn’t have to point out why that’s a problem—for us both.” Bastone grabbed the mask off her cot and fastened it onto her face. Ryn didn’t realize Faro was there too until he stepped around Bastone.

“I brought Faro so we can get your story straight,” he explained. His fingers left a trail of water on Ryn’s chin beneath her mask. “For when we go change the report.”

Ryn gasped. “You want to change the report? Right in the middle of this heavily guarded camp?”

Bastone bit his lips, his light eyes spitting curses. “What do you think the General will do to you if he learns you’re the Heartstealer maiden who tried to assassinate the King?” he asked in a slow, articulate voice. “When he learns you sleep just a short walk from the King’s bed each night?”

Ryn sank back onto her cot. Her gaze flickered to Faro fiddling with his red ribbon, pretending to inspect a stain on the tent fabric nearby. She cut a look back at Bastone. “Wait, you told him who I really am?”

Bastone’s expression turned into a glare that tore up any ideas Ryn had about the two of them being friends in this moment. “I figured he deserved to know after you stole his story. He was going to figure it out sooner or later anyway. Heva calls you Ryn all the time in front of us. Faro might look stupid, but he’s not that stupid.”

Faro’s chin jutted out, and he put his hands on his hips. “I can hear you, you know. I’m standing right here.”

Bastone glanced out at the sky burning purple and orange, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword. “The sun is going down. We’ll go now.”

Ryn scrambled to her feet and followed Bastone out, staying in his shadow as the rising night breeze tugged her loose shirt and hair, flapping Bastone’s lightweight tunic and Faro’s beige pants. Soldiers nodded to Bastone as they passed, one giving him an army salute.

He led the way to the strategy tent and slipped inside where the torchlights couldn’t reach. Ryn followed, blinking until her eyes adjusted. Faro came in last as Bastone lit a candle, revealing the King’s desk at the far end covered in scrolls, papers, and lead pens. He ruffled through everything, the sound of flipping pages filling the space as candlelight glowed against his face, casting eyelash shadows down his cheeks. Ryn watched him. He reminded her of Kai sometimes—brooding, serious, righteous in his ways. But Kai had a sweet side only Ryn had seen. In his free time, Kai liked eating pies and learning about medicine; both things he enjoyed because he could share them.

Ryn shook away thoughts of Kai as she watched Bastone slide open a drawer and lift a folded parchment. Maybe the reason she’d been willing to trust Bastone was because he reminded her of the cousin she missed.

Faro tiptoed back to keep watch at the tent opening. “You should put that candle out, Bastone. Someone will see the light.”

“This is it,” Bastone said, ignoring Faro as he opened the paper and scanned it. His eyes trailed down, and he released a quiet grunt. “Divinities, they found almost nothing on Adassah Cahana.” He looked up. “All it says is that you vanished at ten years old.” He paused as if waiting for Ryn to confirm or deny it.

Ryn rubbed her arms against the cold, thinking about the old house and the family she once had there. A mother. A father. “That was the year I changed my name. The Cahana family became the Electus family.”

Bastone glanced down at the sheet again. “At least it states you grew up in a province other than the Mother City. That will make things easier.” He laid the page down, pulled a lead pen from the drawer, and began scribbling Weylin symbols down the paper.

“Adassah Cahana was adopted by…” He paused. “Faro, what was your family’s name?”

“My family name is Hodgesins. We lived on the eighty-seventh street in the ninety-ninth province,” Faro told them. Then he snapped, “Oh! And the neighbours I helped were the Sellmons. The grandfather was a former soldier in the army. So, you could say Commander Adassah learned how to fight from him.”

Bastone scribbled a few more things down, mumbling, “Adassah Cahana learned fighting techniques from her neighbour. She was caught stealing on behalf of this neighbour and was thrown into prison shortly after. When the ninety-ninth province prison grew too full, she was transferred to the seventy-fifth province prison with several other inmates. Because of her adoptive name, she wasn’t registered under Adassah Cahana which she goes by presently.” He stood up and looked over his work.

Faro released a quiet chuckle from the entrance. “I wish that old man had taught me how to fight. Instead, he chased me out the front door with a broom after I fell in love with his granddaughter.” He ran a finger along the ribbon at his throat. “This was hers. She and I were born only one day apart, so we became best friends. When I asked my parents for extra food for the Sellmons, my father was furious, stating I should only be spending my time with people of our social class.” He swallowed and looked at the sand. “That’s why I stole. It’s not like I’m a murderer or anything.”

Ryn shot him a weak smile. “I like your story, Faro,” she said.

“Yes, we know. You liked it enough to steal it,” Bastone muttered. He shoved the new report back into the desk where he’d found it, then he looked at Ryn and folded his arms. “I want to clarify that if I wasn’t at risk of being in trouble for lying about who you are, I would not be helping you with this.”

Faro snorted by the entrance. “Yes, you would.” All his crooked teeth showed when he grinned.

Bastone’s jaw slid to the side, his bright eyes shooting daggers in Faro’s direction. He grunted and marched out of the strategy tent, his white tunic meeting the wind again. Faro followed next, and Ryn eyed Bastone’s back as she followed last.

As soon as there was a break in the tents, Ryn scanned the dark dunes on the horizon.

There was still no sign of anyone coming.

17

XERXES