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Prince Emad stood there, an oversized robe tied tight at his waist. The Prince had all the same colours and features as his father, except none of them were frightening. His throat bobbed as he dragged a step forward, and Ryn wondered where his voice came from. She didn’t realize he knew how to speak until now.
“Father, forgive me. But I don’t want to marry Per-Siana’s hero. Please hear me.” Prince Emad dropped to a knee and the veil in Ryn’s hand turned heavy. “She’s powerful and lovely, but…” His lip quivered. “My heart has always belonged to someone else. I never thought… I never thought Mansour would die and… and I’d have to…”
A roar sounded over the palace. The walls shook and Prince Emad seized up, his golden gaze stuck on the floor, his fingers turning stiff, his shoulders tight. Per-Siana soldiers scrambled backward down the hall, but the hem of General Reza’s green cape remained in the corner of Ryn’s vision.
“You think this is your choice, Prince? You think you can speak?”
Prince Emad bit his trembling lip. The way he kept his stare on the floor and didn’t dare look up turned something in Ryn, and she wondered if maybe he could see it when his father’s face changed.
Something moved in an adjacent hall. Ryn spotted white hair, a pure white cheek, and one black eye peeking around a curtain.
“Let’s go, Commander Adassah.” General Reza’s hand found Ryn’s arm. His droopy eyes swivelled over to King Alecsander as he tugged her, but Ryn shook her head.
“Go, General. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Estheryn!” Bastone snapped in a whisper.
“You are useless. You think you’re worthy to challenge me? To Challenge us?”
Emad’s breathing sharpened, his nostrils flaring. He pulled his watery golden eyes back up to Alecsander. “Are you even…” he choked, “are you even still in there? Or is this just the snake talking to me again?”
Alecsander’s head tilted back and forth, a low rumble shaking the floor tiles beneath Ryn’s feet. She couldn’t hear the Per-Siana soldiers behind her anymore. She stole a look toward the adjacent hall. Sigilene still hid there.
“You’re a useless coward. You’re not my son.”
Emad nodded, biting his lips together. “No father would say that,” he rasped. “You’re not my father, are you?” A tear raced down his cheek. “He was terrible. But you’re worse.” The Prince climbed to his feet.
Alecsander stared at Emad with a blank face. A second later, he walked around him and drifted toward the Throne Room on quiet feet. Silence hung in the air like a toxic breeze choking everything that breathed it in.
“I’m sorry,” Prince Emad whispered. His golden eyes sailed up to Ryn. “I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
Ryn turned the veil over, studying it. The light fabric slipped through her fingers. “Don’t end up like your brother, Prince Emad,” she said. She couldn’t even look at him after what Alecsander had just done and said. “I’m sure you’ve seen gods do terrible things. But they’re not all against you. If you want to serve the God of my people, whisper the name El Tsebaoth into the night, and see who answers.”
Prince Emad nodded. He said nothing as he turned and left, swiping his eyes with his palm.
Sigilene whipped out of her hiding place, a black-eyed glare spitting daggers as she reached Ryn. “You took Mansour from me—” she angled her head in a feline way “—and now you’ll take Emad too?” The bronze runes on her throat burned bright. “The King thinks you’re special, but you forget that I fought you in the Rings! I know you can be killed.” Her claret lips frowned, and a long nail came under Ryn’s chin like a weapon against her neck. “You’ve stolen my life. And I never let anyone take my place.”
Sigilene left a scratch mark behind when she dropped her hand. She shoved Ryn aside and stormed down the hall on heeled sandals, white hair whipping behind her.
Ryn touched her neck. With the other hand, she lifted the veil. One piece of fabric was ruining so many lives. She crushed it against her palm, and she headed to her room.
Fine. If the gods of B’rei Mira wanted her to wear it, she would.
Ten minutes later, Ryn adjusted the pale crimson fabric around her head as she stood out on the balcony beneath the dark sky, chilly breeze raking through her clothes and pulling her skirt into a dance. She hummed at first, smoothing out her voice.
She sang the songs of the Adriels. Every verse from the Battle Hymnal she and Dolem had penned during the wars and after, adding new verses now to complete them, her heart crying out into the night. She sang the lyrics over this foreign land and their gods, screaming parts. She sang the songs for Dolem. She sang them for Per-Siana. She sang them for her King who had always been waiting for a hand to reach down and save him.
She sang them for El.
20
XERXES
A song rang in Xerxes’s ears when he awoke. He faintly recalled hearing music the past few nights, but it was so distant he wasn’t sure what he was hearing. Some woman’s voice had been lulling him into the most peaceful sleep he’d had in weeks.
He dragged his knuckles over his eyes and sat up in a dim cell, noting the moss he’d scuffed in his slumber. Normally moving around so much would have woken him.
Xerxes moved through the dull motions of cleaning and beautifying, and he dragged his feet down the hall alongside the other royals, only glancing over at Norkin once when the fair featured Prince nudged him. Norkin opened his mouth but slammed it closed again when one of Xerxes’s personal, ever-present guards spun around. The South Prince had been acting strange for three full days; his mouth all tight like he hoarded air inside and wished to spit it out. Over and over, Norkin leaned over on his pedestal during political breakfasts Xerxes cared not to watch, and every time, he tore himself back when a Vafat drifted by. It was driving Xerxes crazy. He resolved to let Norkin be until the fellow could find it within himself to say whatever was on his mind.
