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Emad’s lips peeled apart. “How… How do you know?” he whispered through the crack of his door.

“His body was delivered here.”

A body. Emad thought of that thing his father had become. He wondered what sort of body was sent back. Was it a person, or a creature? Either way, the King was dead, and that meant…

“Long live King Emad.” The priests said it in unison, and Emad’s cheeks warmed, his bottom lip moving in protest with no true sound of objection coming out. The High Priest pushed on his door, and Emad sprang back as they entered his room. Their scepters tapped over the floor as they walked, all staring at him from strange eyes.

“We have much to discuss, Prince Emad. But first, let us make the announcement to the people. And then we shall decide what to do with you.” The High Priest leaned in, his breath smelling of sour fruit. “You’ve never been anything more than a puppet. That shall not change now.” The priest opened his long cloak to reveal a dagger on his belt.

Emad glanced down at his plain night garments. “Can I not even change first?” He blushed at the thought of facing everyone in nightclothes.

The priests didn’t answer as they ushered him out. The High Priest came to a halt and raised an arm after they rounded a bend, stopping the group. He tilted his ear to the side, brows pulling together.

A near-silent blade swept through the air, and Emad gasped, springing back.

Three priests fell to the floor at his feet one after the other, their dark robes mangled, their pale limbs reaching for him like they’d been trying to grab him as they met a swift end.

A girl with tied back light brown hair stood there, her green eyes lifting to his. Emad nearly choked, almost fell over one of the bodies as he moved for the wall to catch himself.

That face…

Emad hadn’t seen Sigilene without makeup or white hair since… Well, it was so long ago, he’d hardly remembered she had green eyes. She slid her sword away without cleaning it, then she took a step toward him, black skirts kicking. “Come on,” she said in a voice without the ugliness he’d gotten used to.

“Sarai?” he whispered.

Sigilene paused, her hand on his arm. Her grip was warm instead of cold, and something happened to Emad’s heart when her pink lips cracked into a smile—a smile he’d missed for many years since before she lost her youthful colours to the Elites.

“Come on, Your Majesty. If you’re going to be named King, you need to be in the Throne Room for the announcement.” She ripped a cloak off one of the fallen priests and wrapped it over Emad’s shoulders, tying it around his nightclothes.

Emad found himself ushered through the halls, led to a room only ever used by a crooked man for unthinkable tortures and rituals, and nudged into a black stone throne he worried he’d get punished for sitting in. He shifted his weight awkwardly, blinking around at all the most powerful nobles of Pyriwell looking back at him. He adjusted his nightshirt beneath his open cloak.

Lord Thanon approached him, a man with dark rings around his eyes who’d followed King Alecsander fervently. “Prince Emad… we trust you heard the news and are prepared to exact justice for—”

“Shut up, Thanon,” Sarai said. Lord Thanon’s mouth slammed closed, and nobles rustled in their chairs. Emad watched with warm cheeks as Sarai stepped onto the red carpet, eyeing them, one by one. The nobles yelped when she drew her sword.

“Is that you, Sigilene?” Lord Thanon demanded, eyes flickering in recognition. But he backed away, returning to the crowd and ducking behind a noblewoman. “What is the meaning of this? What happened to you?” Lord Thanon’s stare tracked Sarai’s blade.

“Every single one of you will answer for your manipulation unless you fall in line under King Emad’s orders. I will kill anyone who tries to press their agendas upon him or control him. This King is not a puppet. This King is the heir and the son of our late King. Approach him with reverence and respect.” Sarai’s voice snapped over the tense silence, and nobles at the front of the crowd dropped to bow toward the great black throne upon which Emad sat.

The quiet that followed was startling. And when Sarai came back and stood at his side, Emad realized he had the attention of every powerful person left in the empire. They were all in one place, waiting for him to speak. And a quiet huff of disbelief escaped his lips as he realized they looked at him as if he were a King.

Emad’s crown slid down the back of his head as he walked. The artists claimed they could have it adjusted to fit his head, but it would take time to refit all the gold and bronze. His nobility robe was too large, too, and despite how he tried to cinch it at his waist with a belt, he still looked like a child in grownup clothing every time he saw himself in the mirror.

The palace had been uncharacteristically quiet for two days since his ordination, but the celebrations in the capital continued late into both nights, a distant sound that kept everything from being completely silent. Emad looked at the tall paintings of his ancestors, at the smooth pillars engraved with teachings and texts of the early days of the empire. It used to frighten him to look around at the palace, never knowing what sort of beastly skin or creature he’d see watching him from the shadows. Never knowing what might happen next in the Throne Room that would give him nightmares. But as the days went by, he got braver, lifted his eyes more. Truly, the palace was quite beautiful.

An unembellished door rested halfway down the hall. Emad stepped in front of it and looked both ways before twisting the handle and slipping inside.

The quiet music of an old woman humming far across the room met his ears as he wandered to a large white curtain. When he pushed it aside, he beheld the dark-haired maiden lying there, eyes closed, dressed in pale medical garments and glowing in the sunlight beneath a wide window. Her stillness brought a peace over him, even though it was the result of her being too fragile to move.

Commander Adassah had been sleeping for a very long time.

But at least she was breathing.

29

XERXES

Kai Electus glanced sideways at the chunks of broken stone being hauled out the front entrance of the palace on carts. Servants dumped some around the flower beds in the garden like decorations, digging holes to bury the rest. Xerxes assumed the Adriel priest was probably wondering who’d smashed all the statues of the Celestial Divinities in the atrium.