Page 85

“I might have even loved you. But you never loved me back.”

There was something seriously wrong with that woman. Xerxes hadn’t been able to focus on anything else all evening—not on the rest of the council meeting, not on supper, not on getting ready for bed. As if he could sleep anyway after that conversation in the Abandoned Temple. Divinities, Ryn admitted she cared about him. He’d never sleep again.

Fate was a monster. He would curse out every Celestial Divinity in the sky for putting him in this position. Now he had to choose a different wife? Have an heir? Be a father to some goblin woman’s child?

“I… loved you…” He would never stop hearing Ryn’s voice saying those words for the rest of his royal life. Being a king was absolute torture. Perhaps he’d melt down his crown and signet ring and dump it on the Intelligentsia’s next meal like icing.

What a horrid mess. He’d never hated his stone-cold shadow of a heart more.

The Strategy Hall was nearly pitch dark when Xerxes went in. He felt around for a match and lit the oil lamp on the wide desk he’d hardly touched in years. This room had been glowing, bright, and bustling during his father’s reign, and the old wooden desk of carefully carved celestial patterns and moon runes had belonged to the late King. That wasn’t the reason Xerxes had avoided it though. He’d never liked the idea of sitting on a fancier chair than everyone else when talking strategy.

Cobwebs hung between the legs of the desk, and he wondered why the servants hadn’t bothered to clean up since he left for war. Apparently, strategy was of so little importance to those running the kingdom that they’d forgotten about this room altogether.

He took hold of the brass knob of the desk drawer and pulled it open, releasing a creak into the space. There in the middle of the otherwise empty drawer rested an old book of kingdom laws. He sneezed when he pulled it out, dust spiralling in coils and sticking to his robe.

Xerxes took in a deep breath as he ran his fingers over the law book of King Draco, established rulings that even the Intelligentsia would have trouble changing. He set it on the desk and split it open, scanning the pages for anything it might say about Adriels and their rights. King Draco didn’t have many laws in place to protect them, which was natural considering their history of rebellion and violence toward Weylins. He sighed as it became apparent it was nearly impossible to stop the council who had the authority to seek out, kill, and destroy at will for the good of the kingdom. If Ryn had known about these laws, she wouldn’t have barged into the council meeting and called everyone murderers. She was better off going out into the street and telling her fellow Adriels to shut up about the Gold Maiden if they wanted to live.

After several minutes, Xerxes found himself searching the text for rules on marriage instead, how to change Adriels into Weylin nobles, or whether or not they were legally allowed to live in the palace forever or produce royal heirs or— “Agh.” He slammed the book shut. What was he doing? Why had Ryn asked him to save her people? He didn’t even like most Adriels. She was a lucky exception.

His left eye itched. He squeezed it shut and scrubbed it with his nails. It had grown more irritated, the violet marking affecting his sight in the mornings and late at night.

“Xerxes.”

Xerxes’s eyes peeled open. “What do you want?” he moaned. He went to the table in the centre of the room, slumped into a chair, put his elbows on the tabletop, and grabbed his face with his hands. “I’m not in the mood to listen.”

“They’re hunting for you in the hallway.”

Xerxes lifted his face from his hands. He glanced toward the closed door of the Strategy Hall. A shiver poked his spine, and he sat up straight when a flutter of wind brushed along his neck. He looked around. There were no windows in this room.

“Who’s hunting for me?” he asked carefully. He stood slowly from the chair, rubbing his hands up and down his prickling arms as he headed for the door. But he paused, his gaze settling on a cabinet of ancient weaponry used by his ancestors during the birth of Per-Siana. He sailed over and stole a sword from the cabinet.

“If you fight alone, you’ll be shattered.”

Xerxes put his hand on the door lever, a cool gust ruffling the hair by his ears. His fist choked the grip of his sword. What sort of voice told him not to go recklessly fight on a rampage and kill everything?

“Who are you?” he asked. “And don’t say a friend again. I’ll determine whether or not you’re that.”

When there was no answer, Xerxes released a grunt and flung the door open. A howling wind screamed on the other side, rushing against him and nearly throwing him back into the room—he inhaled, staggering until a warm breeze trickled over his flesh and he could stand again. His hand slapped over his chest, and he looked into the hall with wide eyes.

“I’m El Tsebaoth.”

32

RYN

Brilliance and darkness flickered in Ryn’s vision as she raised her sword to block the narrow Vafat blade with a loud clang. Light burned over her knuckles and encompassed her legs as she dropped to a knee and slid over the floor, slashing at the creature’s heels as she sailed by. The Vafat screamed when its white flesh split, its hood whipping around, following her. The creature was so fast, like a sprinting ghost escaped from the Dozakh. The burning leaves smell seeped from its lanky body, thickening Ryn’s throat and prickling in her chest.

“Find THE PER-SIANA King,” the voices chanted.

The one before Ryn hissed, “THE GOLD MAIDEN IS HERE.” And every shadowy thing crawling across the ceiling above turned its head toward her.

Dark clouds rushed her face, blocking her vision. Ryn swatted them away as she spun onto her feet, her blade smashing against the Vafat sword in a collision of light and darkness.

“stand down, daughter of el. You will not be spared,” they boomed with a sound that reverberated off her bones as the tip of her sword narrowly missed the Vafat’s throat.

Ryn kicked off the wall and slashed outward, cutting the Vafat’s hood and making it fall off in scraps. A long white arm flashed out, catching her throat, and Ryn gasped. Her sword clattered to the ground, her hands slapping against the Vafat’s ice-cold fingers wrapping around her neck.

“Haven’t you served El all this time only to watch your people be murdered now?”