Page 47

The fellow glanced down and ran the toe of his boot along the ridge of the library rug. “It’s a long story. But yes.”

Xerxes nodded. He found himself fighting an almost-smile that didn’t belong on his face. He washed it from his mouth and turned back to the fellow one last time with all the authority of a king.

“Assassins already reached her once,” he said. “Do not let them twice.”

A loud commotion erupted outside the library. Shouts flittered down the hall and Xerxes forgot about the red-cheeked fellow as he rushed out and marched down the hall to the atrium.

Servants and Intelligentsia surrounded four men in navy war uniforms by the entrance. Dried blood coated the men’s hands, and Xerxes’s stomach turned. He had not seen one of those uniforms in almost ten years. The Intelligentsia asked all sorts of questions, but Xerxes could only stare at their torn clothing, the scratches on their armour, the cuts on their faces and arms.

Signs they’d seen battle.

Were they from the border? Xerxes couldn’t find his voice to ask as he thought of the smoke he’d spotted lifting past the mountains from his window.

When a uniformed man saw Xerxes there, he pushed through the servants and Intelligentsia. “Your Majesty!” the soldier performed the army salute and dropped to a knee at Xerxes’s feet. “There’s been trouble at the border.”

Xerxes’s heel drifted back an inch. His stomach squeezed. He wanted to ask for information, todosomething, but his mind spun.

“Revenge.”

“Seek revenge.”

“How dare the enemy cross you?”

“Say no more!” Belorme’s words overtook the noise in the lobby. “Not here.” The Chancellor glanced around at the eavesdropping servants and local dukes arrived for the weekly affairs meeting.

Xerxes’s throat was thick when he swallowed, but he stood tall. “What happened?” he asked, ignoring Belorme’s instruction. “Tell me.”

The soldier bowed again. “Spies got past us,” he whispered.

“Not another word more!” Belorme snapped, losing his composure for once. He pulled the soldier back up to his feet. “To the Strategy Hall,” he directed. Belorme led the soldier away, and Xerxes watched the three other soldiers follow. The Intelligentsia trailed after them all. And then…

And then Xerxes followed.

The halls felt longer than normal, the path more winding and dizzying.

He marched ahead and slipped into the Strategy Hall seconds after Belorme. The remaining Intelligentsia and councilmembers trailed in, telling Xerxes they’d somehow already been notified.

“How many spies?” Xerxes asked to take control of the meeting. Men spread around the centre table in the room. They eyed the maps always left there—maps that showed the one hundred and twenty-seven provinces of Per-Siana and all their borders.

“I’m not sure,” the same soldier admitted. “B’rei Mira sent a diversion. We were fighting for our lives while the spies slipped past.”

Xerxes exhaled. It was worse not knowing if there was one or one hundred than knowing for sure there were thousands hiding among the people. “Can you identify them?” Xerxes asked.

The soldier shook his head, and a unanimous exhale sounded through the room.

“They might already be here. They might be hiding among your servants, or your noble guests, waiting to attack you,” the soldier said.

“Let them try.”

“We will kill them.”

Xerxes flexed his jaw. His fingers curled slowly into fists as the touch of cool water rippled over his flesh. He inhaled, and for once, he invited the dangerous sensation of icy power, that darkness inside of him that made him feel like a monster.

“Your Majesty… you’re looking a little pale,” a councilman commented.

“King Xerxes, what should we do about the B’rei Mira spies here in Per-Siana?” another asked.

Dozens of blinking eyes looked his way, men dressed in nobleman finery and Intelligentsia hoods alike, their features muted by the dimness of the windowless room.