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“Would you like to leave?” Xerxes challenged.

Kai sighed. “This is exhausting. I’m going to take a nap.” He turned and headed for the lobby. Xerxes leaned in his chair, trying to see him around the fountain, trying to peer toward the palace entrance that would take him to the outer gate.

“Where?” he shouted after him. “Where will you nap?”

“In my room!” Kai’s voice called back.

Xerxes settled in his seat. A slow, near-legitimate smile tugged at his mouth. He glanced over at the empty serving tray on the floor.

Ryn’s cousin wasn’t as good at gathering information as he was at hunting down B’rei Mira spies in the city. Kai had stopped finding news about Ryn a while ago. Even so, there weren’t enough powers in all of Per-Siana to persuade Xerxes to stop trying to find out what had happened to her.

People’s hearts were turning back toward the Gold Maiden. Adassah Cahana’s name was whispered in the streets less now than in the beginning, but it still trickled in with the latest gossip. She was viewed as a martyr by many of her own people. She was spoken of with reverence at times. But there was still the occasional angry citizen who called her out for being a traitor of Per-Siana, despite the speech Xerxes gave when he’d declared Alecsander of B’rei Mira a fallen King and had tried to exonerate her. He was beginning to wonder where the changing tide of public opinion was stemming from, because apart from that one speech Xerxes gave, the stories of her victories in B’rei Mira weren’t coming from the palace.

He’d sat in front of his council days ago with a feeling of trepidation toward these men and women who had always looked at him with disdain, and then High Priestess Geovani had walked in. She’d passed by his high seat carrying a large, steaming mug of tea. She’d leaned over in front of everyone and whispered to Xerxes, “None of the ancient prophets of the God Original had good reputations either. In fact, they were persecuted the most. Many of El’s most devoted ones looked like fools before men. It’s just time for Adassah to have a turn.” Xerxes had coughed when councilmen tried to inch closer on their seats to eavesdrop. “We all look like fools when we obey our God wholeheartedly and hold nothing back.” Geovani had taken a long, loud sip of tea, making councilmen scowl. “That’s why we’ll always look a little crazy. And there will always be people who hate us because the light in us unsettles the demons in them.”

The old priestess hadn’t looked defeated even though Ryn’s scheduled execution date had passed long ago. It was part of the reason Xerxes wasn’t sure if he could believe she was really dead. Ryn had escaped death before, often miraculously. Xerxes wouldn’t believe the rumours until he saw her body or got someone he trusted to go to B’rei Mira and see for themselves. He had no confirmation or evidence the execution had actually happened apart from inconsistent reports.

But he hadn’t found the courage to send anyone yet. Instead, he’d summoned her cousin here with a fake task and was bribing him to stay with cocoa. Not that Kai seemed to mind; the Adriel was elbow-deep in palace food and was sleeping like an infant on luxurious noble bedding. Whatever his sleeping arrangements were before, he certainly wasn’t in a hurry to go back to them.

“Your Majesty.”

Xerxes dragged a hand through his hair as Joshua’s celestial bells echoed into the heights of the atrium. His navy leathers appeared around the fountain as he jogged through the mess and met Xerxes at his chair.

Xerxes stood, and Joshua handed him a scroll sealed with crimson wax. His brows furrowed when he took in a glyph he vaguely recognized.

“It’s from B’rei Mira,” Joshua said, confirming Xerxes’s suspicion.

Xerxes tore the wax seal and unrolled the parchment. He quickly scanned the lines of messily drawn Weylin letters that must have been stenciled by an interpreter who didn’t know the symbols well. Lines that told him Prince Emad was the new King of the empire—which Xerxes already knew—and that Emad had no desire for war. And that he hoped he’d proven it when he sent Commander Adassah to General Reza at the Per-Siana border. And that he hoped she was feeling better.

The scroll fell to the floor.

“Joshua,” Xerxes said through his teeth.

Joshua’s ears turned red. “Y… yes, Your Majesty?”

“Where. Is. Reza?”

The conversation with the High Priestess at the council meeting trickled back into Xerxes’s mind. Because for some reason, at the time, it hadn’t registered that when the woman spoke of Ryn, she’d spoken about her in the present. “It’s just time for Adassah to have a turn.” Not, “Adassah had a turn.”

“Never mind.”

Xerxes strode across the atrium, stone powder puffing around his footsteps as he marched to the entrance, crossed the tile line, and came out into the garden. He swatted a rosebush out of his way as he followed the path, ignoring the thorny prickles that stabbed his open palm, and when he reached the gate, he shouted, “Open it!”

Folke dragged the large doors apart with a loud creak. Xerxes could hear Joshua’s bells behind him as he came out onto the Navy Road and veered down a side street he had seen his maiden take when leaving the palace for her charity work.

People bowed and cheered when they recognized their King. Women cast him looks with fluttering lashes. Xerxes set his gaze staunchly ahead as he made the walk to the First Temple with Joshua following several paces behind.

The First Temple was mostly rebuilt already with so many in the city lending a hand. The Adriel numbers were still growing with the Burn Division Twelve movement, and Xerxes had heard that High Priestess Geovani was hosting services outside to teach a bunch of Adriel things to whoever wanted to listen. But the yard was empty now, the wheat field beyond the temple swaying in a morning breeze. On the other side was a makeshift shelter with beds below, unwalled and wide open to the city. A few people sat on the beds now, and two young priestesses were handing out bread from woven baskets. He’d never visited this temple once in his entire kingship. He’d never imagined he would have a reason to.

Xerxes marched up the stairs, grabbed a metal lever, swung open a giant door, and strode into the middle of a vast room lined with wooden pews.

Soft gasps lifted from young maidens in pale pink gowns at his abrupt entrance. A familiar Folke guardswoman in black trousers and a loose tunic lifted her head from where she sat at the front of the room, sorting small loaves into baskets. The maiden sitting across from the Folke had her back turned to him, but Xerxes found her immediately. Her dark hair was a mess of tiny, intricate braids, and a white blossom was tucked into the fray.

“Ryn,” the guardswoman said, eyes wide on Xerxes standing there.

Curse the Celestial Divinities.

The young woman turned.