Page 53

“And in the desert, I told you to forget about me, Xerxes.”

It was an act she was terrified had hurt him as she’d walked out of that Throne Room. But in the end, was it really an act if one day Xerxes would actually have to forget about her?

Someone touched her shoulder. Shook her. A woman jumped back halfway across the room and clasped her trembling hands when Ryn opened her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Commander Adassah, but the first negotiation is about to begin.” The woman fell to her knees and bowed low on the floor. Ryn sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking out the glass doors at where the sun was setting. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep; the glass doors still hung wide open and the room was freezing.

When Ryn climbed to her feet, she looked down at the shuddering woman’s bloodred hair, realizing this was her artist—the same woman who’d grabbed her and instructed the other servants to pin her down and dress her for the parade. No wonder she was shaking like a leaf.

But Ryn had no interest in taking out her feelings on subjects who only acted upon orders. That was probably something this woman rarely saw here. When a whimper escaped the artist’s lips, Ryn straightened her dress and yawned as she headed out, closing the door behind her to give the woman a chance to collect herself.

An attendant waited outside to guide her down the hall, and Ryn tapped through the palace to a lavish meeting room with a glass-topped table infused with white crystals. General Reza sat at one end of the table, and a B’rei Mira General sat at the other in full bronze armour. Goblets rested on the tabletop and Ryn gazed around at all the Per-Siana soldiers with Burn Division Twelve and Division One insignias, hoping they knew enough not to drink anything. She eyed each cup she passed, making sure they were still full, and she took a seat beside Bastone. Kilen sat on his other side, and Yusuf sat beside him. Ryn didn’t recognize the Division One soldiers, apart from the red-eared one with a belt of bells who’d been Xerxes’s personal assistant in the war.

Across the table, a unit of bare-chested B’rei Mira warriors glared. Some held their spears beside their chairs like they were expecting this to turn into a battle.

“Will King Xerxes be joining us for this negotiation?” Ryn asked.

The B’rei Mira General took a sip of his wine. “He’s no longer your King. He is currently a possession of King Alecsander and a hostage.” His accent was so thick, she almost didn’t catch what he said.

Ryn’s fingers curled below the table, but she sat back and nodded to General Reza, wondering if that Norkin fellow ever made it to Xerxes with her message.

General Reza was impressive at fabricating a fake negotiation. He claimed the Per-Siana Intelligentsia had offered full storehouses of ancient gold, the three north provinces, all the mountain lands, and free passage through the kingdom for a hundred years. But Ryn knew General Reza was killing time. He sat back in his seat, dragged a hand down his beard, and patted his belly when the enemy began discussing his terms. Reza brought his green cape around and smoothed it over his shoulder. He didn’t look at Ryn when he did it, but after Ryn had worn that cape to the second Heartstealer trials in Per-Siana, she knew he was sending her a message across the table.

Green, for his Priesthood.

He trusted El was going to help them pull off this nearly impossible plan.

“There is no sum you can muster that will be enough to win your King back. King Xerxes’s future is in King Alecsander’s hands now. And his fate shall be decided by the gods.” The B’rei Mira General guzzled his wine and slammed the goblet on the table. “You must know you’re wasting your time. Why even try this?” Some of the B’rei Mira warriors began whispering to each other, bored.

General Reza began the discussions all over again. Bastone leaned close to Ryn and the smell of mint mixed with stale sweat. He whispered accusingly, “I didn’t want to say this in front of the others last night, but we found the spy in our ranks. It’s how we learned King Xerxes was here in Alecsander’s palace.” He released a heavy breath out his nose. “You didn’t tell us, Estheryn. You figured out where the King was, and you didn’t tell us. You convinced me you were going to a mountain cave, and you came here instead.” His bright eyes darted over.

“And you didn’t even clue in that those actions meant I didn’t want our burn division to come here?” Ryn whispered back, jutting her chin toward Kilen and Yusuf. “I thought you cared, Bastone. But you led them here. Everything could go wrong. Isn’t it bad enough that I already lost Heva?”

Bastone stared. Then he adjusted the collar of his navy leathers, his crescent scar pulling at his chin. “First of all, every one of us who volunteered to come knew full well we’d likely never set foot in Per-Siana again. I wasn’t even going to join, but I couldn’t will myself to stay behind when Kilen and Yusuf volunteered to accompany the General.” He worked his jaw. “But I said goodbye to my family before I left, so it is what it is now. Second of all—” he glanced over again and blinked “—Heva’s not dead. Your own cousin was nurturing her back to health in the Mother City when we left, so if she actually dies at this point, you only have your cousin to blame.”

Ryn’s clasped fingers tightened beneath the table. Mist clouded her vision as she hauled her large gaze back over to Bastone. Her chest drained, hollowed out, and a slow, quiet patter took up the empty space.

Bastone grunted at the look on her face. “What—did you come here so you wouldn’t hear the news if she died, Estheryn?” he challenged in a loud whisper. “Did you run away because you thought she wouldn’t make it?” Ryn tried to speak, her lips twisting without real words. “You’d rather be here with these people who do that kind of atrocity to your neck, than still be in the desert with me?” His bright eyes flickered down to the bruises healing on her throat.

“Everyone….” she rasped, then cleared her throat. “Everyone thought Heva wouldn’t make it.”

Bastone shook his head and sat back in his seat. “She’s probably going crazy stuck in Per-Siana if she’s awake. You should be glad she wasn’t coherent when we left or she’d be the one sitting next to you here, stab wound and all.”

Ryn raised a hand to cover her mouth as it sank in. Her fingers slid down to the flute at her chest, and she wrapped them around it tightly.

Heva.

The moment the meeting ended, Ryn stood and cast General Reza a look of farewell.

Alecsander stood outside the door when she emerged from the meeting room, and her fingers froze around her flute. The quiet gasps of Per-Siana soldiers sounded at her back as they stepped out behind her.

“Wear your veil.” A snap of sound and a rush of shivers swept over the group. Alecsander’s hand came out with a pinkish veil resting on his fingers. It fluttered in a breeze sweeping through the lobby.

“Of course…” Ryn took the veil slowly. “I am the Bride of B’rei Mira, after all.” She coughed to clear her throat when the words came out coarse. The veil was rough in her fingers as she curled them into a fist around the fabric.

A soft voice lifted in the hall. “Father…”

Alecsander turned.