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Prince Emad laughed, and Xerxes felt a tightening in his stomach. The unusual dryness of it made him wonder if this boy didn’t laugh often and this was a rare sound.

The only things Xerxes knew about this young Prince were that Norkin had tried to befriend him, the nobles mocked him, and his own father wouldn’t defend him. Never mind that Prince Mansour likely bullied him relentlessly in the shadows. Though this boy hadn’t admitted his age, his physique made him appear a year or two younger than Xerxes. But his timid manner made him seem even more of a child.

Xerxes stuck his book back into its place on the shelf. “I was a hated royal, too,” he said, and Prince Emad looked up from his book, mouth tipping down at the corners. “No one wanted me either.”

Prince Emad looked off for a moment, golden eyes unfocused, then he extended his book toward Xerxes. “But at least you’re brave, King Xerxes. You shout back at your enemies. I’m not like that.”

Xerxes took the book slowly. He turned it around and made a face at all the foreign glyphs he’d never be able to read. “You could be. You’re just too afraid of what’ll happen if you try. But if you always fear every outcome, you’ll never have a voice. And trust me, I know from experience that it’s better to speak up and be ignored than to never speak up at all. Even if you think no one hears you when you open your mouth, often a few people are secretly listening.” He tucked the new book under his arm.

Prince Emad’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t cower at least as he processed all Xerxes said. “I know you’re not really here for a book. Are you looking for your soldiers?” he guessed, and Xerxes smiled.

“Smart fellow.”

“They’re in the lowest dungeon. You’re in the right place, just on the wrong floor.” He nodded downward and tapped the tile stones with his sandal. “They’re right below us.”

Xerxes patted the book with a finger and nodded. “I’ll take this with me.” Not that he would bother to learn B’rei Mira alphabetic symbols and read it. Maybe he’d beat the snot out of a guard with it instead.

“King Xerxes,” Prince Emad said, and Xerxes paused. “You shouldn’t go down there. My father and brother will expect you to try, and they’ll punish you for it. Your Gold Maiden already found your soldiers anyway, and she’s guarding them. In fact, I don’t know what she did, but…” his face scrunched “…there’s blood everywhere.”

Xerxes’s expression fell.

“You should go back to your hostage cell before they catch you. I won’t tell anyone you were here.” Prince Emad turned and ventured down the bookshelves, eyeing spines again as he mouthed the titles silently to himself.

Xerxes clutched the book tighter. He reluctantly turned and slipped back out into the hall, glancing down to where his men were supposedly being held beneath his feet. If Ryn was down there already, then Prince Emad was right—Xerxes showing up would only make matters worse. He growled to himself and set off down the hall the way he’d come, ready to give Norkin a piece of his mind for his horrid directions.

The morning rolled in with wailing screams.

Xerxes sprang up, blinking and wobbling until he registered where he was. He moaned and rubbed his eyes. He’d barely taken in a full breath when his door was bashed open, the wood rattling on its hinges, and he was grabbed. Xerxes shook the sleep from his mind as he was thrown into the hall, falling into the door of the cell on the other side. He whirled on the guard, eyes narrowing.

“What’s the meaning of this?! You dare do such a thing to a King…” But as desperate shrieks trickled in from distant corners of the palace, prickling against his ears, Xerxes turned his head toward the wide space past the hall where people in scarlet garments raced by. It wasn’t just servants screaming, it was nobles, guards.

The guard who’d attacked Xerxes grabbed his collar and dragged him past the pillars. Xerxes didn’t fight it this time as he looked around, spotting a servant girl sobbing as she raced from one room into the next.

“They’re dead!” she wailed. “Every firstborn son in B’rei Mira—dead!”

Xerxes closed his mouth as he was pulled into the Throne Room. Every new plague was the same; the reptiles, the itchy bugs, the utter darkness, the chunks of hail breaking apart the palace roof… but this felt different. Xerxes’s hands fiddled with his robe at his thighs as he was roughly brought to the middle of the room to stand before Alecsander. The guard kicked him so hard in the back of the legs, Xerxes fell forward to his knees, his palms slamming the carpet. He glared up at Alecsander’s throne.

“This is punishment for forcing your will against the will of the God Original.”

Xerxes twisted his head at the sound of Ryn’s voice. She came in from a different hall, no veil. Her extensive chest pectoral from yesterday was gone, and Xerxes’s gaze fastened to a dark, bluing set of bruises around her throat. He drove to his feet, but the guard slammed the hilt of his sword against Xerxes’s back, forcing him to his knees again. The red bridal gown Ryn had been wearing was replaced with a new one and a set of three coppery necklaces, but there was no hiding the thumbprints on her neck. Xerxes almost stood again, but the guard’s hand slammed into his shoulder to hold him down.

“Who did that to her neck?” Xerxes growled at the room. Nobles trickled in from the back hall, some rushing from other hallways with pale, distraught faces. Temper-induced heat flared into Xerxes’s muscles as he searched for Prince Mansour among them. Both the Prince’s thrones at the side of the room were empty.

“You must have heard by now that every firstborn son in your kingdom whose doors were not covered in the blood of the lamb has passed away. Now—let the Per-Siana people go, or this won’t be the end of your suffering!” Ryn’s voice was a righteous snap over the room, and Xerxes looked back at her with rounded eyes.

Alecsander’s face quivered with shadow, eyes sinking to black. A new anger boiled below the surface and Xerxes feared he’d spring from his seat, charge across the room with his blade, and sacrifice Ryn to his snake god on the Throne Room floor.

“You think because my son is dead like the others, I should consider this a worthy miracle?” Alecsander asked in a voice void of care.

Xerxes blinked. “What in the name of Boreas is going on?” he finally asked, and the guard smacked the back of his head. He released a grunt when he bit his tongue, the taste of blood tickling his mouth. A swish of red skirts appeared beside him, and he realized Ryn was at his side.

“My King warned you. Now it’s come to this. Your heir is gone, our marriage alliance is broken, and your capital city is in turmoil. Call your Vafat out of Per-Siana immediately!” Ryn said.

Alecsander rose from his throne. “What a hassle.” The murmur was barely a phrase, more like a bark of sound. “You think you’re clever, Daughter of El?” He tilted his head when he reached the floor, his black beard sliding over his chest. “Haven’t you lost your god?”

Xerxes flinched.

Ryn hesitated and Xerxes twisted left, pulling himself free of the guard’s fingers so he could stand. The guard swung for him, but Xerxes ducked and kicked him backward. The fool tumbled over the floor, his curved sword clattering away.