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She swallowed, tugging her braid until pain found her scalp and snapped her out of her trance. She was always the maiden Xerxes had needed, never the one he wanted. He needed her for his voices. He would have chosen someone else to be Queen even if her secret never came out back then…

Ryn shook her head as that belief shattered at the look on Xerxes’s face that told a very different story.

“I’m the only maiden in this palace you can’t have,” she whispered when she found her voice. It felt like a dagger sliding over her tongue. Xerxes had fooled everyone into thinking he had no heart for maidens to steal, wanted nothing to do with them.

A cynical, bitter smirk crossed his lips. “Isn’t fate cruel?”

Xerxes said nothing else as they stood there. He swallowed, his left eyelid twitching over an iris with a purply hue.

“I didn’t come here to steal your heart.” Ryn forced the words from her mouth, her own heart twisting into knots. “I was sent here by the General.”

Xerxes didn’t blink for a moment. His jaw slid a fraction to the side. “I know that.” He kicked water out of the way when he came a step closer. He reached past and took a handful of General Reza’s cape, his eyes glazing over like he was in another place when he brought it around to study it. He dropped it a second later, and it swished back into place behind her.

“Tell me something as a witness now, Ryn.” He bit the tip of his tongue. Then he said, “After our meeting with Alecsander of B’rei Mira, did you feel like things were really over between me and Alecsander?”

It took Ryn a moment to drag herself out of the last conversation and think about the day on the stone platform. She’d been paralyzed by fear that day; she’d hardly been able to pay attention to the words exchanged over the raging of the cloud and Alecsander’s dark presence. She couldn’t have repeated the deal back to Xerxes now if he’d asked. But when the deal was made and Alecsander had left… her heart was still unsettled. And the black cloud in the desert never vanished. It had only gotten closer.

“No,” Ryn admitted. “No, I think he’s still coming.”

A shallow breath escaped Xerxes. He drifted back a step, the hem of his robe scooping up water as his chest deflated, his eyes falling closed. A tear broke loose when he nodded, rolling down his face in the dark, and Ryn’s lips parted.

“No one here believes me,” he whispered. “Not a single person, except for you.”

Her hand drifted forward, her gaze locked onto the tear making its way to his jaw, slipping over the tendrils of violet ink. Divinities, he looked like that boy again, trapped, anguished. Utterly alone.

“Xerxes…” As soon as the murmur escaped, Ryn slammed her mouth shut. She pulled her hand back, holding her treacherous fingers in a tight fist. No, she couldn’t wipe that tear away, whether he was hurting or not. Soon he would have a Weylin wife to do that. A weight formed in her stomach with the thought, and she suddenly wanted to be somewhere else. “I’m tired, Your Majesty…” She glanced over her shoulder toward the narrow arch. “I think I should—”

“I’ve told you not to run away from me,” he said with a level voice. “I warned you what that does to me.”

Birds ruffled the ivies above as Ryn pulled her gaze back. Night air brushed through the temple, fluttering Xerxes’s royal robe, tousling his hair, and making Ryn’s cape roll against her back as they stood there.

When he said nothing, she drifted another step away.

He slammed his eyes closed again. “Stop. This is killing me.”

Ryn’s cheeks spread, just a little, her lips pulling up at the corners. He looked just as tortured now as when he was at odds with the Intelligentsia about the Senses Trial where she’d forced him to eat salty pie in front of everyone. A quiet laugh escaped, breathing through the temple, and Xerxes’s eyes flashed opened wide.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned. His hand came over her mouth, the floral soap scent on his fingers finding her nose, his signet ring cool against her lips. “Don’t laugh, Ryn. I’m not sure what reckless thing I’ll do if I hear it.” His hand stayed firmly over her mouth as his own lips spread into a smile. He bit down on his bottom lip but it did nothing to shoo it away. Finally, he sighed and dropped his hand, then extended an arm toward the arch. “Fine. You can leave.”

Ryn took her chance, turning and marching through the water to fetch her mask and sword. She fled out the archway and down the torchlit halls as she pulled her wet mask into place. Xerxes didn’t call after her or follow.

Her chambers door made a quiet squeak when she opened it. Bastone was nowhere in sight, so she went inside, closed the door, and fell against it on her back, placing a hand over her warm thudding chest. “Be still,” she threatened her heart. “By the Divinities, what’s wrong with me?”

“King Xerxes does not care about you. Why would you hold on to someone like that?” Bastone’s harsh words in the desert.

“You’re the only maiden I’ve ever wanted.” Xerxes’s words in the temple.

Ryn glanced over at the lounger where Bastone usually slept. Bastone had barely made it back in time from visiting his family to accompany Ryn on this mission. She and Heva had almost left the border without him. He’d suited up within seconds of learning their plan without question or complaint. He was trustworthy, she knew that.

But Xerxes had meant the words he said.

“No one here believes me. Not a single person, except for you.”

Ryn put her hands over her face and slid down the door. She could not fall for Xerxes again after what had happened. She could not start to feel his pain. To see his sorrow and want to fix it. She pressed a hand against her tight chest until the stirring stopped.

It didn’t matter that he knew who she was and hadn’t demanded an execution for her deceit in the desert, or that he hadn’t thrown her out of the palace the second she’d appeared in the atrium. It didn’t matter how she felt, either.

He was the King.