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After several heart-pounding moments, Alecsander raised his fingers in some sort of acknowledgement, and the Vafat released its grip on the scepter. Xerxes’s fingers uncurled from his hair, his hands falling in front of him as his chest rose and fell, his breathing loud from his nose. Ryn tossed the scepter to the floor in an echoing clatter at the priest-magician’s feet. She wiped the trail of red from her temple, grabbed her veil from the guard, and left without asking permission.

The Throne Room was deadly quiet. Finally, the priest-magician shrank to pick up his scepter, his white lips biting back a sneer as he bowed to King Alecsander, then politely headed down the red carpet toward the other hall.

Norkin suddenly laughed.

The coldness in Xerxes’s narrowing eyes as he turned and glowered at the Messa Prince stung his own sockets. He’d never wanted to hurt Norkin, but he would strangle him. His muzzled tongue burned with the need to ask this fellow what sort of sickness he had that made him enjoy such a scene.

Norkin’s chuckles halted when he glanced at Xerxes and realized. He cleared his throat and adjusted himself to sit taller. And he kept his attention on his feet after that, but every so often, a crack of a smile found his mouth that would have started a war had Messa and Per-Siana still been their own kingdoms.

It was a terrible day to be a young King of a fallen kingdom. Even though Xerxes hadn’t met with Reza, having the General in the palace had given Xerxes a brief sense of comfort. But now that the old man was gone, the palace felt cold again.

“Please…” Xerxes whispered to the Adriel god in the midnight hours. “Please, let that fool have made it out of B’rei Mira alive.” He imagined warriors in red kilts swooping in on chariots to cut off the soldiers in navy leathers, striking down Reza, Joshua, the rest of them. He wrestled with his horrid instincts that told him something would go wrong as he laid back on his cool cell floor and watched a bug scurry across the ceiling. Guards thumped around outside, and the noisy tune of someone shaking bells drifted in from the wide space.

Butterfly carcases filled the corners of his cell. The remnants of the fluttering plague were just as repulsive as when they’d been alive and swarming. Crunchy bodies were laid to rest everywhere; Xerxes had stepped on so many, they’d simply become a rug under his feet.

“Xerxes.”

He thought he imagined the voice of his maiden. But he lifted his head off the floor, and Ryn’s eyes appeared in his window. He scrambled to his feet, kicking butterflies aside.

It felt like a dream when he beheld the rest of her; he blinked down at the loose trousers she wore, a cloak draped over her arm. Two guards were fast asleep on the floor, their curved swords leaning up against the walls beside them.

“What in the name of…” Xerxes put a flat hand against the door. He wanted to reach through the boards and grab her. “You’re going to get caught if you linger here, Maiden.”

“You have keys, right?” Ryn asked. “Hurry and open the door. We’re leaving.”

Keys…

Xerxes’s hands fumbled into his robe before he realized his keys were buried beneath the moss. He overhauled rocks and green sponge until he found them, and he shoved them through the bars to Ryn. “It’s the black key.” It came out coarse.

His heartrate rose as she fiddled with the metals, and when the lock clicked, he shoved the door open, almost running into her. He grabbed his maiden’s waist, pulling her in so fast her lips brushed his bare shoulder, his heart slamming against his chest hard enough that he feared the guards would wake.

“We have to go, Xerxes,” Ryn said against his shoulder. Her exotic bridal perfumes filled the hall.

“Just… just one second…” He breathed in, breathed out as he pinned her to him—a real body. Ryn was warm against his cold skin, proving this wasn’t a delusion. Her hair was soft beneath his fingers.

“Xerxes.” Urgency rang in her tone. “We have to go.”

“You were scheming, weren’t you?” The question came out quiet. It was a terrible time to ask, but Xerxes needed to know. He’d been eaten alive for days by her words and now she was here before his cell, and he feared some part of him still had the wrong idea.

Ryn’s arms came around him, lighting the hallway with gilded dreams and starlit futures that tore chains off his mind and made him bite his bottom lip over a smile he gambled to show. He shook it from his face as he drew back and brushed his thumb over her temple where healing creams were drying. “I knew it,” he said. “You scheming Adriel.”

“I wasn’t scheming about all of it. You’ll understand when we get back to Per-Siana. But Xerxes—we really, really have to go!” Ryn slid her hands off his back and they split apart, but he caught her sleeve before she dropped her arm.

“Next time give me a sign,” Xerxes said, jaw tightening. “You like to call me a monster, but you’re crueler than I am.” He took hold of her chin and lifted her face, then he added, “Maiden.” He planted a kiss on her mouth—too fast and too little. He wanted to kiss Ryn again, deeper, forever, but her soft mouth closed and he dropped her chin. Next time he kissed her, he would do it slowly, reverently; his chest tightened when he thought about it.

Black paint clung to Ryn’s lashes, her liners making her brown eyes glitter as she pursed her lips and handed his keys back. He reveled in the slight flush on her cheeks. “Which cell is Prince Norkin in? We need to get him.”

Xerxes’s face changed. “Norkin?” he growled in a whisper.

“He was in on this escape plan. He was supposed to tell you about it,” Ryn said, and Xerxes felt the walls tip a little as he tried to sort that out. He shook his head, eyeing the sleeping guards as he walked around her and marched to Norkin’s cell. “Prince Emad was in on it, too. At least… he knows it’s happening. He’ll keep our secret though. He wants this marriage alliance to happen about as much as I do.” Xerxes could hardly believe his ears as he unlocked Norkin’s cell. He swung open the door and Norkin was there, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He scratched blond stubble on his chin.

“I’m no expert on escaping or anything, but I don’t think the way to do it is to linger in the halls forever.” Norkin emerged from his cell, his scarlet toga drooping. He shoved the sleeve back over his shoulder. “What took you so long?” he said to Xerxes, reaching over and snatching the keys. He slid them into his own pocket where Xerxes spied his speckled bird feather.

“Hurry. I don’t know how long that powder will keep the guards asleep.” Ryn sailed down the hall and ran up a staircase.

“What powder?” Xerxes glanced back over his shoulder as he followed her. They rounded a corner at the top of the stairs, and he realized the cloak on Ryn’s arm was actually two cloaks when she passed him one, ignoring his question. Xerxes slid it on, heading to the peephole balcony and studying the dark night. The city glowed with distant lamps and torches, yellow against black. Norkin appeared at his side in the last cloak, and Ryn brushed past, climbing over the rail and clipping her fingers to the wall ledges. She scaled up to her balcony and disappeared over the top. Xerxes climbed onto the rail, but Norkin’s hand came against his arm.

“Wait.”