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Xerxes’s dark lashes fluttered against the falling debris, his warm body the cushion that had broken her fall. Dark crescents were visible beneath his eyes this close, and a branch of violet ink speared into his left iris. Ryn gaped at the purple ring replacing his deep blue one.

Gasps lifted across the garden, and Ryn cleared her throat, imagining the appalled expressions of the servants. She swallowed, her fists tightening around dirt, greenery, and the sleeves of the kings’ robe in her grip.

“You’re crushing me.” Xerxes’s breathless words brought her out of her trance.

Ryn glanced down at her weighted armour pressing on his chest. She braced her palms against the soil to lift, but something held her down when she tried. She tried again, halting as Xerxes’s fingers tightened on her sides in the gaps beneath her armour, keeping her in place and drawing her gaze back up to his.

The coldness drained from his face, and a slow smile touched the corners of his mouth that sent a flood of warmth into Ryn’s belly. She tried to pull up again, but his fingers slid further beneath her armour, his hands locking around her waist. Even with purple marks staining his jaw, Xerxes was terribly attractive when he smiled, his curling lips making her heart double over when he lifted an inch, bringing his face right up to her mask. He whispered, “Did you push me down here to kiss me, Ryn? Or do we need to be in the Abandoned Temple for that?”

Ryn’s jaw dropped.

Xerxes shoved her mask aside with his thumb. Ryn almost tore it back over her face until she realized the tall flower stems hid them and only Bastone standing on the stairs above could see. Bastone cleared his throat and turned away, his body becoming a shield for anyone who might pass by on the steps. But Ryn’s attention was glued to Xerxes looking back and forth between her eyes, taking in the flush in her cheeks, studying her parted lips—his smile fading.

A bug skittered over a bloom by his shoulder as he grazed her hot cheek with his knuckle. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

She fought the impulse to slap her hands over her face. “Like what?”

The quiet snaps of shears and murmurs of Folke shivered through the garden as people began excusing themselves. No one came near the stairs as they departed.

Xerxes watched her without blinking for a moment. “Like you don’t really hate me.”

Ryn’s abdomen tightened, but she pinched her lips between her teeth, keeping quiet even when Bastone glanced back at her with a wide gaze through his silver mask.

“Careful, King,” she warned. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

A crease remained between Xerxes’s brows even though the edges of his mouth pulled upward. “I’m rarely careful. And I’m normally right when I jump to conclusions.” He pushed her mask back into place and sat up, pulling her along with him.

Ryn scrambled to her feet, finding the startled faces of everyone left in the garden who’d seen her throw the King of Per-Siana into a bush. Her hands ran over her armour, brushing off grass and leaves, her heart thumping so loud in her ears, she worried everyone could hear it as she tugged at her tight breastplate. She felt Xerxes’s presence at her back, aware of exactly how close he was as he came to stand beside her. Aware of his rose and honey soap fragrance still lingering in her nose.

“I actually came to find you for a reason.” His quiet words sailed over beneath a gust of wind rattling the branches above. “I have orders for you, Ryn.”

“Orders?” She cleared her throat when it came out raspy. Then she slid her fingers beneath her mask to cool her cheeks.

“Yes.” Xerxes kicked the grass with his toe. “If anything unexpected happens to me, I need you to immediately go defend the border. General Reza will need you if he intends to keep B’rei Mira from entering Per-Siana,” he murmured as he reached over and plucked a stalk of grass off her shoulder plate. “Anyway, I have a council meeting—have a pleasant walk through the gardens.”

Ryn’s gaze tore to Xerxes, questions burning on her tongue as he fled up the palace stairs. A few servants followed him inside, but they drifted back out like he’d sent them away.

Bastone appeared, his broad chest blocking Ryn’s view of the palace entrance. “Let’s check the wall,” he said, “before we draw any more attention to ourselves.” He muttered the last part as he set his light eyes on a cluster of lilac bushes down the path.

Ryn followed him without a word, slipping into the trees where branches and blooms slapped her shoulders. On the other side, Bastone scoured the grass at the foot of the wall where Heva would have tossed over a note.

“Tell me the truth, Estheryn,” he said as he nudged a rock over with his boot. “Does that King know who you are?”

A few feet away, Ryn spotted a crumpled piece of ivory paper. She walked over and picked it up. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Bastone didn’t reply as she smoothed out the note. Heva’s Adriel handwriting was messy, and there was enough text to take up half the page.

Then Bastone said, “In that case…” He let out a heavy breath through his nose. “Have you thought about taking this kingdom by force?”

Ryn’s wild, horrified gaze soared back to him. She realized his mask was off and his jaw was clenched, his scar pulling tight. “Are you out of your mind, Bastone?” she hissed. “By force?!”

“You don’t think you can? I’ve seen you take enemy territory in ways that should be impossible. You should strike at the King before he strikes at you again.” Bastone’s jaw slid to the side. “You remember what happened the last time he learned your secret. What’s to stop you from going back to prison in chains this time? What’s to stop him from killing our whole burn division now? Your blood won’t change—so you’ll always be his enemy. And I told you I won’t die for you.”

Ryn’s stomach roiled. “He won’t attack the burn division.”

“You don’t know that, Estheryn.”

“I do.”