Page 48

“I haven’t,” Ryn stated.

The look that crept over Alecsander’s face could hardly be called a smile as his mouth spread strangely wide, taking up too much of his face. His black eyes sailed between Xerxes and Ryn like hollow marbles. “My priesthood can do miracles, too. If you really still have a god beside you, Gold Maiden, then you should have no trouble facing off with my priests,” Alecsander said. “And WHEN you fail, you will lose your life.”

Xerxes stepped toward Ryn, but a chain was thrown around his neck and he was lurched backward. His hands were grabbed and bound, and a fabric gag was stuffed into his mouth. He didn’t blink before he was tied back to his pedestal. None of the other royals were present; just him. He released a sound when two beings with painted white flesh stepped from the back hall with large scepters in their hands. Sweeping black coats covered their tall bodies, and glowing bronze runes marked every inch of their white-canvased flesh. One wore a hood, the other a crown made of two bronze snakes.

“Ryn!” he screamed through the fabric. It wasn’t decipherable.

Chanting lifted around the room from the Vafat. Great masses of red leaves were tossed onto the barrels and lit on fire, the flames dancing up to the ceiling, and thick smoke-magic filled Xerxes’s lungs.

The man with the snake crown set a brass bowl on the floor, and the man with the hood lifted his scepter. People quieted down as a clear liquid in the bowl began to bubble.

“It’s turned red!” someone marvelled, and sure enough, bloody liquid splattered over the edge of the bowl, bubbling over so much it saturated the silk carpet in a wide circle at the priest-magician’s feet. “He’s turned water into blood!” Some of the nobles who’d been so stricken when they arrived relaxed their stiff stances, one even nodding and finding a weak smile.

The man with the snake crown reached deep into his sleeve and pulled out a handful of red powder. He flung it into the air, and people gasped as it burst into a swarm of humming butterflies.

Xerxes dragged a foot back on his pedestal, his shoulders dropping as he watched the plagues he’d witnessed El bring upon his enemies being reproduced before his eyes. The same man pulled the snake crown off his head.

“All hail the Ring Cobra!” he shouted over the room in a crackling voice. Some servants and nobles dropped to their knees in a low bow, chanting whispers. The man tossed his crown to the ground, and Xerxes watched in horror as it shook, twisting this way and that, until two serpentine bodies unclasped themselves and started hissing. The bronze snakes slithered over the floor toward Ryn, arching themselves before her.

“Magic tricks.” Ryn’s whisper was almost too quiet for Xerxes to hear. She reached into her dress pocket and drew out a ribbon, then took her time tying back her hair with it. “Maybe your gods do have power,” she said to Alecsander.

“Ryn!” Xerxes tried to shout over the fabric in his teeth. He just needed to get her attention so he could nod toward the opening. She should have known to run for the Outer Rings and get lost in the maze now. What good would putting on a show do if she was alone?

“Return my armour you stole,” she said. “I’d like it back. However, with or without it, I will show you the power of my god.”

As if they’d been ready, a servant came out of a storage room hauling a large bag. It was dropped at her feet with a clang and the bronze snakes slithered out of the way. The second Ryn reached for the bag, one of the snakes lunged and bit her wrist. She froze.

“You’ve been poisoned, Bride of B’rei Mira,” a priest-magician said, his wide smile revealing sharp, jagged teeth. “The bite of the Naja haje is flooding your veins with venom. You’ll be dead in seconds. Do you wish to yield to our gods who might spare you if you bow low before them now and beg for mercy?”

Quiet, nervous chuckles simmered through the Throne Room, and Xerxes stepped off the end of his pedestal, his chains tumbling after him.

Ryn turned her arm over, glancing at the snake bite where two pin-sized droplets of blood formed. She continued reaching into the bag and drew out her gold mask and a sword Xerxes thought she’d lost in the Outer Rings. Ryn stood, and as she slid the mask on, a puzzled look crossed the magicians’ faces.

“You have tried your best to kill me with your gods’ magic. Now try to save yourselves from mine,” she said. A bright light burst down her sword, and the crowd screamed as she lunged forward and pierced her blade through the nearest magician. He fell onto the bowl of blood, tipping it up and splattering it across the stones toward the watching nobles who scrambled back. The other magician raced across the room and hid behind Xerxes; Xerxes tried to pull away when the man grabbed his chains and held him there as a shield.

The bronze snakes hissed as Ryn hurled her sword to the ground. A cracking sound rang through the room as her sword hit the floor and turned into a serpent of brilliant colours. It let out a hiss like a song, putting the reverent snake worshippers to shame as it dove for the bronze snakes and ate them alive.

Xerxes slammed his eyes shut with a grimace. Cries rang from the Throne Room until he dared to peel an eye open again. The moment Ryn picked up the colourful snake, it stretched its body and reformed into the sword. Xerxes thought he might wretch. It was so much worse and more riveting than a fairytale.

Alecsander stared. He was still as porcelain for a long time before drawing his sword. Nobles began looking around in panic, some ducking for cover behind chairs as Alecsander took a slow step down the dais. A ghostly red hue shivered around the blade as he moved, a low, screeching sound filling Xerxes’s ears that swallowed the rest of the room’s noise. Ryn stepped forward to meet him at the bottom, her expression hidden behind her mask.

When Alecsander swung, Ryn’s sword collided with his in a blast of red sparks and rippling white light, glowing against her mask and brightening the War King’s face. They held each other there, a song and a screech tangling together, and Xerxes felt a well of hope burst up through his chest that made him sink down and sit on the end of his pedestal. He blinked back tears.

In the glow of Ryn’s sword, Alecsander’s golden eyes looked back and forth between hers.

He smiled. “You’re a god, too,” he marvelled in the clash of sounds.

Ryn shook her head. “You as a man can’t recognize the God within me. But your gods do,” she said back. “El Tsebaoth will show them no mercy.”

Alecsander lowered his sword and took a fast step back before Ryn could slice him in half. He stood there, his face morphing between beasts. The silence was so loud; the shouting of a thousand voices, all craving the God Original’s power that had been put on display. Xerxes could almost feel his own stomach growling in response. “You are not released from your marriage commitment,” Alecsander stated.

“What?” Xerxes growled against his gag. He tried to claw it out of his mouth, but two guards tore his hands away.

“You will be the bride of my second son, Emad, and you will lead my armies to conquer kingdoms on my behalf in place of my incompetent sons who were not made for such things.”

“Stupid War King,” Ryn muttered, and Alecsander’s eyes narrowed. “Your greed will be your undoing.” She squared her shoulders and dragged off her mask. “But I accept. On the condition that King Xerxes is sent back to Per-Siana.”

Xerxes choked, his gaze catching on a young Prince with rosy cheeks standing at the end of the room who’d just walked in clutching a book to himself. Prince Emad’s light eyes were round. No one noticed him there as his fate was debated. As Xerxes’s maiden was handed to him on a silver platter.