Page 24

“No!” A muscle twitched in his jaw. He suddenly fought a terrible smile. “Definitely not.” Xerxes dropped her chin and pushed out the glass doors to the balcony. Cool air swept into the room. Ryn stared as he climbed over the balcony rail and disappeared. Her fingers trailed up her chest, palm stopping over her thudding heart as she realized: Not only was Xerxes alive, Alecsander hadn’t broken him yet.

B’rei Mira representatives presented Ryn with a sweeping crimson gown and a stack of bronze cuffs to match. She scoffed at the outfit after they left then tossed it all at the door, making a clamour that brought servants rushing in. She nearly hit one of them with a bronze cuff by accident when the door opened.

“Sorry.” She bowed in apology. “But I’ll be wearing the uniform of Per-Siana. Please remove these items from my sight.”

The servants ducked their heads and scooped up all the pretty things, carrying them delicately out of the room. Ryn sat on the bed until they left, then dragged her navy cape over her lap and picked at the threads until there were two perfect holes, silently thanking Kai’s torn Priesthood robes for teaching her sewing. She looped her arms through the holes and folded the cape over her chest, wrapping her gold armour belt around to cinch it all together like she’d planned.

She stood before the mirror with her sword fastened to her belt, her heeled greaves peeking from the blue hem. Without her armour, she was thin and unimpressive. Once, it would have frightened her to have her enemies notice, but now, maybe she wanted a certain Prince to see how vastly different her build was than the woman he’d savagely stabbed.

The clatter of her heels mimicked the anthem of Per-Siana in her heart as she marched out the door.

A Vafat waited on the other side.

Ryn’s nails dug into her thighs as she slid to a stop. Even in her tall boots, the Vafat towered over her. She dragged her eyes up to its lifeless purple gaze, fighting a shudder. The Vafat didn’t blink or breathe, as if it was made of metal.

“Welcome to B’rei Mira, Daughter of El,” a low voice boomed in her ears, and she leaned back an inch when the Vafat’s mouth didn’t move. Her gaze fell to the Vafat’s peeling, pure-white feet fashioning a pair of wiry, twisted sandals that dug into its flesh. Its long coat rippled as if floating in a breeze, but there was no wind in the hall. Ryn swallowed, her hand lifting and patting her chest, but, of course, there was no flute there.

“Let me pass,” she told the Vafat. Bronze runes were stamped into the creature’s toes, glowing dimly.

Dolem’s songs filled Ryn’s mind, but her mouth remained closed, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Her lips were a muzzle crafted by her own works that didn’t allow her to sing.

“You’re different.”

“I’m the same.”

When she pulled her eyes up to meet the Vafat’s, she almost jumped at the wide, frozen smile plastered on its face. A shuddering breath escaped and she pushed past the creature, throat itching with burns as a memory of being held against a wall in the Per-Siana palace by her neck filled her head.

Her fingers grazed her throat lightly, and she coughed as she reached the servants at the staircase waiting to take her to the Banquet Hall. She remained quiet the whole walk through the palace.

The first person she noticed in the Banquet Hall was Prince Mansour draped over a chair at the far end of a long feasting table—right beside King Alecsander’s empty chair. There was another open seat on Alecsander’s left.

People around the table eyed Ryn’s cape-dress as servants ushered her in. She glanced over at gold platforms as she passed them, locking eyes with Xerxes. He was astonishingly beautiful, she realized, in his twisted rose crown, hair brushed, marking gone. Chains bound his hands before him, and a new crimson robe covered both his shoulders now with a deep ‘V’ all the way to his waist. His deep blue gaze swept down the back of her dress as she passed, landing on his symbol there, then flickering back up to hers. A mere shadow of a smile touched his lips, too small to change his face.

Ryn didn’t dare smile back, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep them composed.

A chair scraping over a stone floor returned Ryn’s attention to the table. The chair beside King Alecsander’s, directly across from Prince Mansour, was held out by a servant. Everyone at the table rose from their seats in a rustle of gowns and moving chairs, waiting for the Gold Maiden to take her seat. All, apart from Prince Mansour.

“Don’t you know guests here are required to wear the textiles and symbols of our flag? Are you insulting the culture of this great empire?” Prince Mansour’s voice was clipped with accusation. He reached for a metal chalice, bringing it to his red lips as he eyed her over the rim. He set the cup down gracefully, then said, “You look lovely, Commander Adassah. You just don’t look like you belong here.” He leaned forward with his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. “Who was it that I killed; I’m curious?” Ryn was halfway into her seat when she stopped, one hand flat on the table. “If you’re the Gold Maiden, then who was that muscled, black-haired beauty I threw off a cliff?”

Ryn’s toes tingled in her greaves, her sword heavy at her hip. She couldn’t run, couldn’t avoid this conversation. This was what she came for.

“Someday, we’ll understand why things happen the way they do. Even the bad things. Even the unfair things.”

Ryn lowered herself the rest of the way into her chair, and other guests sat. A number of things were set before her: dark wine, a bowl of bread, a cup of herbed oil. A tray of orange rice arrived next with minced meat and a spicy scent. Heva’s voice didn’t go away.

“Someday, we’ll understand, Ryn.”

“What would make you think I would wear your kingdom’s symbols on my body? I’m a Per-Siana citizen,” she asked the Prince across the table, changing the subject. “I’m not bound to this palace. I still belong to another King.”

A young woman sat beside Prince Mansour. When she reached for her drink, Ryn noticed she only had three fingers and a thumb. She made eyes at Ryn, her bright red lips dragging into an icy smile. Her lips were the only colourful thing about her, apart from glowing glyphs around her neck. Patches of white powder makeup covered her face, and her long hair was such a pure white, Ryn wondered if she’d used chemicals or magic to make it that way.

“What are you staring at, Commander Adassah?” The woman’s beady black eyes made Ryn squeeze her hands together below the table. The note of disrespect in how she spoke Ryn’s name turned heads. She wasn’t the only one with missing fingers down the table though, Ryn realized. Others reached for cutlery or rice platters with missing thumbs, pinkies, or half fingers. “Are you interested in joining the Sphynx Elite, Gold Maiden?” the same woman asked in a silk-smooth voice as she reached for a basket of grapes and lifted a plump stalk. She set it on her plate. “We walk in a truer identity, and we like ourselves better, if we sacrifice our body parts.”

People shifted down the table, and Ryn wondered if some in earshot disagreed. A man was missing his nose at the far end, and with all his hair shaved off and enormous copper earrings weighing down his earlobes, he no longer looked human as he hunched forward, sipping his soup.

Ryn’s plate remained empty, her stomach rolling over itself. “No one should have to cut off their body parts to discover their identity.” She felt Prince Mansour’s eyes on her so intently, she looked up. The woman beside him had stopped picking her grapes off the vine, her three-fingered hand hovering on a single fruit.

Prince Mansour released his cup with a tap and reached far across the table, brushing a strand of Ryn’s dark hair away from her eyes. Ryn’s shoulders pressed into the backrest of her chair, but she didn’t tear away. “You might find you’re more attractive in B’rei Mira crimson, Gold Maiden,” he said. “Maybe you’ll change your mind and give it a try.” She didn’t flinch, even when his finger dragged down her cheek. His hands smelled of fruit juices and the same smoke on everything else. “The Sphynx Elite isn’t for the weak of heart, but you’re not weak, are you? And there are other ways to sacrifice your body if you don’t wish to lose fingers.” Chains rattled over by the platforms followed by a sharp snap that echoed through the hall. Prince Mansour’s nail drifted to the corner of Ryn’s mouth, and she squeezed her hands under the table until they went numb. “You’re quite beautiful.” A slow smile twisted over the Prince’s red lips.