Page 51

She thought about that as she and Bastone left the feasting tent and passed the footpath to the oasis pool. Her face itched beneath the metal, and she clawed behind it to scratch her nose. Apart from the few who’d already gone to bed, the whole camp was occupied at the feast. Quiet chatter lifted from the lookouts nearby, and a few scattered snores reached her ears. Her eyes widened as she realized, and she scooted closer to Bastone.

“Can I use your tea soap?” she asked, and he glanced at her in surprise, his eyes reflecting the rising moon over the cliffs.

“How do you know I have tea soap?” he asked, but he reached into his pocket to produce a small white lump similar to the floral soap bars around the bath chamber pools in the palace. Ryn took it carefully with both hands, cradling the sweet-smelling bar, inhaling a quiet gasp of disbelief. How long had it been since she’d used soap? She brought it to her face and sniffed the lush minty fragrance. At first Bastone looked at her like she was crazy, but then he smirked, a silent laugh escaping him.

“I will repay you for this one day, Bastone,” she promised, holding the soap up and turning it over in her fingers. Tiny green mint leaves poked from the solid white.

He cast her a lash-fluttering eye roll. “Please don’t.”

Ryn made it into the burn division tent first, padding over to Heva fast asleep on a mat in the corner. “Heva!” Ryn whispered. “Heva, wake up!”

Heva rolled over, tangling her legs around a blanket, and moaned an indecipherable response.

“Let’s take a bath in the oasis pool! This might be our only chance while the whole camp is distracted.” Ryn shook Heva’s shoulder when she didn’t open her eyes.

Finally, Heva settled her sleepy gaze on Ryn as the idea took root, then she yawned and stretched. “Let’s do it. I’ll be there in a minute. Just let me wake up first.”

Ryn looked around for anything she might use as a bath towel. There was nothing in the tent apart from satchels, tossed armour, cots, and a few blankets already being used. The desert wind would have to do. She crept back through the tent and slipped outside, heading to the oasis path, glancing up at the twinkling stars bidding her a good cleansing of sand and sweat. There was so much dust stuck to her skin, so many grains of sand embedded into her hair. The last time she rinsed off was in Sindahir Valley, and she envied Bastone who went to the oasis pool almost daily with the other male soldiers.

The rock alley was still, the oasis beyond quiet. A snake slithered through the grasses nearby, disappearing into the rocks toward the open desert. Lizards peeked from the cliffs and a large bird flew in circles high in the sky. The dim starlight hit Ryn’s face when she pulled off her mask, the cool air brushing her cheeks. She breathed a long sigh of relief, tossing her mask to the grass and leaning forward to study her reflection in the crystal water. The moonlight blazed behind her as a fresh smile rounded her cheeks. For ages she hadn’t seen her own face other than a muted reflection in her gold armour.

She raked her fingers through her hair, getting out the worst knots. Heva’s footsteps filled the oasis behind her. “Took you long enough,” Ryn said. She glanced down and tugged at the top button of her tunic.

“I didn’t realize you were waiting for me, Maiden.”

Ryn’s fingers halted over her button. The voice crawled in her ears as her gaze darted over to her mask several feet away. A pulse appeared in the side of her neck when she realized she wouldn’t get to it before Xerxes. He could grab it if he wanted, stand in her way. And the edge in his voice made it clear he knew full well she hadn’t been waiting there for him.

She lowered her hand from her tunic, staring at the mask. Thinking of diving for it—or if that would be too obvious.

“What brings you out here at this hour, Your Majesty? Shouldn’t you be sleeping after your journey in the desert?” she asked. It was a pathetic distraction, but it was all she had. She bit her lip as the grass at her back shuffled with movement. Divinities, he was too close.

“I didn’t used to fear sleep,” he admitted. His voice was coarse and lazy. “But now I don’t know what I’m going to see when I close my eyes. Or who I won’t see. And perhaps I don’t want to find out.”

Ryn almost looked over her shoulder at him, but she pulled her fingers into fists at her sides, keeping her head forward toward the deep blue pool rippling in a gentle gust of air. No one in the army had gossiped that the King was having nightmares.

“I’m curious about something you said earlier, Commander Adassah,” Xerxes said.

When the grass shuffled behind her again, Ryn’s gaze sliced back to her mask. She took a step toward it, keeping her back to him. When the shuffling stopped, she expected him to seize her, to stop her, to cut her off. She could hear his shallow breathing at her back. She could feel it up her spine, in the flutters of her stomach, that he wanted to grab her and turn her around.

Her chest rose with a heavy breath. What would happen if he saw her now? He might execute her on the spot for hiding herself from him. He might send her straight back to prison. He might do something awful to her entire division.

“I don’t ever want to see you again. I hope we never cross paths.” His words burned along her spine like he was saying them aloud with the same coldness as their last day together in Per-Siana.

By the Divinities, she was a fool for taking off her mask.

She stepped for it, reaching for the gold feathers just as his words sailed in, “Wait—”

The second his fingers touched her arm she gasped and tore herself away, not expecting him to hold on as she leapt the rest of the way and clasped a hand around her mask. The motion yanked his body into hers, bumping her off balance and sending her sailing backward toward the pool. His arm flew out, catching her, but his foot slipped on the rock, and he tumbled forward.

Ryn’s back hit the water first; coldness seizing her limbs. Water slid into her clothes, over her face, and into her mouth as she and Xerxes dropped deep into the depths with his arm around her waist. She slid her mask on before he could turn his head and look. Her heart hammered, and she fought the impulse to suck in a gasp below the water. But when he didn’t move for several seconds, she glanced over.

Xerxes’s hair floated around his face, his lips soft, a long navy coat with gold threads floating around him. She realized his arm had loosened. In fact, he wasn’t moving at all and his eyes were closed.

Ryn paddled sideways, bringing her face before his. It was dark below the water even though the pool was clear. She poked his cheek, and when he still didn’t stir, her chest tightened. She kicked off the nearest rock wall, grabbing him around his middle, and she paddled toward the surface. She came up gasping, his weight nearly pulling her back down, but she found purchase on the shore ledge with her elbow and dragged herself over. Her arms shook as she pulled his limp body over a slanted rock. She laid him flat on the grass and shouted, “Your Majesty!”

Xerxes didn’t move as water ran down his cheeks, pooled in his collarbones. A white nightshirt stuck to his chest beneath his royal robe.

“Your Majesty!” Ryn tried again, tapping the side of his face. She spotted dark liquid leaking into the grass, and when she slipped her fingers behind his head, they grazed warmth. She pulled her hand back and blinked at the blood glistening on her fingers.