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It was his maiden.

30

RYN

There were moments as Ryn slept when she was sure she walked soft paths of rich green gardens, listening to faraway music that filled her soul. El had remained beside her, a brilliant light that turned the colours in the garden into vibrant glowing tones. He spoke quietly, nurturing her spirit, keeping her company. She thought she heard her mother nearby calling her name.

Everything was a fog when Ryn had first opened her eyes. Her mind struggled against disorientation as she tried to remember who she was, where she was. It all came back when Heva appeared in her doorway with a wicked smile upon her face, her hair tied up in a ponytail and glittering with silver beads.

Geovani coaxed Ryn back to health carefully with broth and medicine bowls, Kai only showing up on the rare occasions he could escape the palace undetected to check on her. She learned that all of Burn Division Twelve had stationed themselves in the Mother City, witnessing to those who had not yet heard of all El Tsebaoth had done. Heva claimed they’d been the ones to receive her at the border with General Reza when the B’rei Mira emissaries had delivered her. From there, Bastone suggested they bring Ryn to the First Temple for Heva to stand guard over her. Geovani had ensured that all involved stayed quiet.

It was never meant to be a secret, but Ryn’s brutal recovery had left her barely able to walk for several weeks, let alone defend herself from angry crowds. Heva carried her everywhere on her back, read her books until she fell asleep, and fed her rice, skewers, and bread in the mornings. At first, Ryn wondered why Xerxes never came, why he didn’t even send word. She wondered if he was busy with his responsibilities now that he’d taken back the palace, and the people loved him for his courage. His name was spoken with affection. His likeness was painted and artists created diamond statues of him in his battle armour, the way he’d looked on the day he fought for them. Ryn supposed he had a lot to do, putting things back in order with the Intelligentsia wiped out and the council being restructured. But then Geovani admitted she’d kept Ryn’s location a secret from even the palace to avoid the First Temple being attacked by bitter Folke or those in the city who still believed the Gold Maiden had wronged Per-Siana. The High Priestess promised that people’s hearts were changing though; the priestesses were praying for people in the street every day and growing the congregation. Healings were taking place on the roadsides—the lame could walk, the blind could see. People were believing in the God Original as he healed their land, person by person. Very soon, Ryn would be able to show her face outside, but it would just take a little more time.

It wasn’t as if Ryn could run away from the First Temple and go to the palace anyway in her condition. And the truth was, she didn’t want to go outside and risk the scrutiny of people who believed she’d abandoned and betrayed them. Because even though Geovani worked hard to prove Commander Adassah’s innocence, the truth was that Ryn had betrayed them. For a moment, she’d really considered marrying Prince Mansour and taking Alecsander’s deal to save Xerxes instead of them.

Ryn walked the wheat fields every morning with Heva to grow the strength in her legs. She ate her meals more heartily each passing day, and she prayed in the evenings with the priestesses, played mancala with Faro, attended Geovani’s teachings outside in a sheer green veil, strengthening her body and spirit. There were moments she grew frustrated when her healing didn’t come right away. She stared out the windows and wondered how much longer it would take.

What she didn’t expect was to find Xerxes in the First Temple, standing between the pews, staring at her like he was seeing a ghost and was ready to throw her out the window at the same time. A fitted navy kings’ robe matched his deep blue eyes, and a series of gold stars marked the sleeve where embroidery of the white dragon used to be.

“Xerxes.” Ryn whispered it too quietly for him to hear. She whispered it to herself, to tell herself he was there. He was in the First Temple, with a small army of soldiers waiting for him outside the open doors. A crown rested upon his head, his coat was properly buttoned, his hair neat, his shoulders strong and his stance tall. He looked like a King.

Xerxes’s face changed when Ryn tried to stand. Heva rushed to her side to lift her, and Ryn clung tight to Heva’s hands. Xerxes came a step closer as he studied her thin body and shaking arms, his throat shifting. “What happened to you?” he asked quietly.

Heva held her waist as she moved toward him in slow steps. Ryn held onto a pew for balance when Heva released her and backed away, tiptoeing in a conspicuous way, looking back and forth between Ryn and Xerxes until she slipped down the bedroom hall and waved the rest of the priestesses away. Geovani stepped out of her office, her pale eyes rounding. Her skirts whispered over the floor as she rushed to the entrance of the First Temple and slipped outside, closing the doors behind her and sealing away all the soldiers.

“I’ve been recovering.” Ryn’s words came out coarse. She coughed to clear her throat.

“I could have helped you recover.” It sounded like an objection. Xerxes took a step closer, his kings’ robe gliding behind him. “Ryn…” He looked down her dress again, to the ankles she wobbled on. “Did they… What happened after we got separated at the…” He dragged his crown off his head, scuffing his dark hair. “What happened in B’rei Mira? How did you survive?”

“It’s a long story.”

He frowned and folded his arms, tucking his crown beneath his elbow. “Well, I’ve got my whole kingship left to hear it.” His words grew clipped and he worked his jaw. “Why?” The loaded question filled the temple, bouncing off the pews, the study tables, mixing with the warmth of freshly baked bread. “Why didn’t you send word you were here? I would have come to get you. I would have appointed an infantry of the best physicians in the provinces, Ryn. I’ve been wrestling to keep faith that you were alive at all.” Xerxes’s throat bobbed and he unfolded his arms. “But I knew you were. Something in my spirit told me you were alive this time.” He took her arm and turned it over, revealing bruises nearly healed, cuts that had scarred over. Her arms were nothing like the beautiful Weylin girls in the Heartstealer trials, the sorts of girls meant for Xerxes. Perfect girls, unblemished, with glass skin and lovely faces. She tugged her arm back and folded her hands behind her. Xerxes’s gaze fired up, almost accusatorily. “You know I’m not afraid of scars. You know I have them too.”

A dull phantom pain lifted from the healed snake bite marks in Ryn’s side, hidden now by her dress. Pain that was the consequence of carelessness. A bad choice that El had turned around and used for good in the end.

“Ryn,” Xerxes growled. The fogged windowlight brushed over him when he took a step closer, brightening the blue of his robe. “Why have you been hiding here?” His palace soap scent brushed into her nose; roses and honey.

Ryn’s throat was too dry to speak. She swallowed, glancing down at where she fiddled with a wooden flower carving in the backrest of the pew. “I suppose I wanted to be allowed to marry you if you asked. You can’t have a Queen hated by the people, Xerxes.”

Xerxes’s mouth peeled apart; he stopped blinking. And then he growled, “When have I ever cared what the people are saying?!” He gently smacked his hand over hers on the pew, stopping her fidget. “Let them think whatever they want. I will choose my wife, not the people.”

A quiet laugh escaped her, and Xerxes closed his mouth. “They’re your citizens. Normally I wouldn’t care what others say, but…” She brushed a hand over her throat and clutched the chain of her flute. “…it matters in this case.”

“That’s absurd.” Xerxes curled his fingers over hers and gripped them. “You should be standing before the people proudly as their hero.”

“You’re their hero now, Xerxes.” Ryn pulled her hand from his and brushed a lint off his jacket. Her mouth tugged upward as she straightened his buttons. “It was always supposed to be you. I didn’t want to be a hero. Maybe that’s why El chose me—because I never wanted it.” She glanced over at Heva and Nebulin peeking around the corner of the hall. She shot them a look, and Nebulin slinked away. Heva didn’t. “Geovani has managed to sway the people anyway. It’s taking time, but the truth is being printed on the news scrolls and told by the Adriels. Even the heralds are giving an accurate account of all that happened in the war.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Soon people will accept the Gold Maiden as trustworthy again. And then I’ll…” When she looked up at Xerxes’s face, she jumped.

Xerxes’s eyes were narrowed, his lips thin. His hand flashed out to her side—right over her snake bite—and he pulled her to him, her dress meeting his gold buttons. And he hissed through his teeth, “I am not leaving here without you.”

“That sounds like a threat,” she murmured, and Xerxes pointed back toward the temple doors.

“Call it what you like. In exactly one day, I have to parade through these streets, riding on a horse in front of everyone like a self-indulgent fool so the kingdom can celebrate winning the war.” He dropped his arm, glaring. “I’m not doing it without you at my side. The people can think whatever they want—but you are a hero of the war, and my wife, and—”

“I’m not your wife. What makes you think I’ll say yes even if you propose?”

Xerxes stared. He blinked deliberately three times in a row. “You just said—”

“I’ll have to think about it, Xerxes.” Ryn’s mouth begged to smile, but she kept her face straight.