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Ryn picked up the vase and hurled it toward the open space in the middle of the room. The vase smashed over the floor and an Intelligentsia standing there jumped, his hood sliding off.

“Soon you’ll see the darkness you’ve embraced!” she shouted, pointing. “Someday you’ll answer to El Tsebaoth! The God Original who made this land, who owns this land, and has dominion over everything in it!”

Shrieks erupted throughout the room, and Intelligentsia shuddered beneath their hoods. Ryn didn’t have to look at them with her spirit eyes to know why.

“Arrest her if she utters another word!” Damon’s voice snapped over the room. Folke assembled in the aisles, rushing down steep staircases from four different directions in a ripple of blue and silver.

Ryn raised a hand and pointed at Damon. His black eyes widened as she opened her mouth to speak, to go to war against his shadows, to shake this room and all its gods, but two arms came around her, pulling her back before the Folke reached her.

She was carried out the blue Council Hall doors. “This isn’t how you fight these men, Ryn!” Xerxes’s harsh voice washed over her. “Do you want to be arrested and sent back to prison?!” He dragged her down the hall, his crown sliding off his head; he let it clatter to the floor and roll back toward the council room. Ryn clutched her chest as her sharp inhales settled, and Xerxes set his jaw, watching. He took her hand instead and led her through a labyrinth of halls.

It didn’t dawn on her where they were until her feet grew wet.

Xerxes let go of her hand and took three steps deeper into the Abandoned Temple before coming to a halt. He stayed turned away, the midday sun glistening off his dark hair and robe of nobility through the gap in the ceiling. She stared at his back, waiting.

After several seconds of silence, she clasped her fingers, twisting them. “The only reason I visited the council was because—”

“Forget the council,” Xerxes said. His shoulders lifted with his inhale, then dropped. “You must think I’m blind, Ryn,” he said. Before Ryn could reply, he added, “The way you look at me isn’t how a subject looks at their King, or how a mere friend looks at another friend. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

Ryn’s lips peeled apart. “What are you talking about—”

“You don’t hate me, do you?” It was more of a statement than a question. “You like me. Still.”

“What are you doing, Xerxes?” Her words came out quiet, almost eclipsed by the trickling water. “What will knowing this change?”

“Everything would change.” He turned around, his neck shifting as he swallowed. “I need to know.” Dark water stains reached up the material of his long robe.

Ryn cleared her throat. The sound echoed through the empty temple. She took in a deep breath until her lungs prickled then let it out gradually. “Why?”

Xerxes chewed on his lip over a frown. Then he said, “Because the last time I was forced to marry someone I didn’t want, I went crazy and did something terrible.”

Birds sailed in through the opening above and found perches in the ivies. Ryn released a long breath and put her hands on her hips. She pulled her mask off and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. “Xerxes—”

The feeling of his fingers sliding into her hair tore her eyes back open. His sweet soap fragrance filled her lungs, and her mask slipped from her hand, her heart tumbling off course when he leaned in, his lips hovering less than an inch from hers. He waited, mouth soft. When Ryn didn’t move a muscle, Xerxes’s jaw clenched, and he whispered, “Ryn, you’re holding your breath.” He reached an arm around her waist and hugged her to him, his royal robe enveloping her breastplate. “Just admit it if you want me back.”

She forced herself to take a shallow breath. It did nothing to quell her spinning thoughts. “I’m an Adriel, King. That’s not going to change,” she whispered.

Xerxes’s lips pinched. “You’re the only maiden in Per-Siana that intimidates both the Intelligentsia and Alecsander. You’re favoured by one of the gods, while I’m despised by the gods. So even if I’m killed, you will live—I’m sure of that now.” Ryn’s eyes rounded. “How can I let one of those other maidens be the mother of my child when they can’t even keep him safe once I’m gone?”

“You can’t just let them kill you!” she snapped, the shout reverberating around the sanctuary, and Xerxes’s thumb froze on her cheek. “And you were too young when they forced you to marry a stranger the first time, but you’re a man now.”

He stared, the whites of his eyes turning pink. “What did you just say?”

“You were a child. You shouldn’t have had to fight so hard to be heard. The sages are absolute monsters for putting you through that when you needed help and a friend, not manipulation.” Ryn reached up and dragged his fingers off her cheek. “And fine, you were right—I was in the medicine tent back when you got stung by the scorpion in the desert. You weren’t dreaming. I showed you my face that day because deep down I still care about you.” His mouth hung open. Ryn bit her bottom lip, warmth forming behind her eyes. “I missed you too,” she admitted. “So I’ll be your friend, Xerxes. I’ll try to protect you. But I cannot be a queen. And you need to fight to live, or this kingdom will collapse without you.”

Xerxes stared, his violet iris glimmering as he tapped against fresh scars on his knuckles.

Ryn sighed and shook her head. “Never mind. I came here to ask you to save my people. But I can see now that you’re not ready.” How could he save Adriels when he didn’t even want to save himself?

Charging into the council meeting had been a mistake. Bastone was probably panicking back in her chambers now that word would have spread about it. The Intelligentsia might try to get her eliminated from the Heartstealer trials over this. Or worse.

Xerxes sniffed and all traces of moisture left his eyes. “You want me to save your people?” A dark, quiet laugh followed. “You know I can’t help Adriels.” He paused, and a strange, steady look came over him. He brushed his thumb over the signet ring on his forefinger. “Save them yourself, Ryn,” he said. “Take this kingdom—by force.”

Force. The word tickled something in Ryn’s chest.

Xerxes’s jaw slid back and forth. He dragged his signet ring off his finger and held it up between them where the polished metal glowed. “You should, Gold Maiden. We both know you can take this from me.”

Ryn bit down on her lips, ignoring the flutters in her ribs as she pushed his hand back down. “I won’t. Open your eyes, Xerxes,” she said back. “It has to be you.”