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Chips of wood flew everywhere, releasing a great torrent of wind that ripped around the oval room and pulled at her hair. She hacked until the sweet snap of the last stronghold broke, and the whole tree tipped forward.

Branches shattered against the cobbled stone, pears tore from their perches and splattered to the floor. Ryn watched theshadows unlatch and race into the tunnel above, going around and around. They broke through the window overhead and disappeared, sending a shower of glass raining down. Ryn raised her arm to shield her face as spiralling shards whisked by and pierced the floor. She turned to race out of the palace, to follow the gods but…

Xerxes leaned back against the wall, staring at where the tree had been. Staring at the nothingness that was left. Water dripped down his cheeks from his damp hair. He clutched his robe closed at the collar, his body trembling.

Ryn lowered her arm.

The room rested in complete silence: no more voices, no more threats, no more temptations. The only sounds left were Ryn’s and Xerxes’s panting.

“They’re gone,” Xerxes whispered, to himself or Ryn—she wasn’t sure.

She looked at the tree’s remains, then at her sword. The buzzing music had hushed, and the blade was no longer glowing. She slid it away.

“You’re free, King,” she said as she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.

Xerxes didn’t reply.

Ryn headed for the staircase, but she paused at the doorway of the room. She waited—not sure what she was waiting for.

Then she heard Xerxes whisper, “Don’t leave me, Ryn.”

Something inside Ryn’s chest swelled. She didn’t know exactly what he was asking, if he was talking about this moment or something else.

It didn’t matter.

Ryn doubled back.

He caught her. She hugged her arms around his middle, crushing his body as she listened to the pounding of his heart. They breathed together.

Seconds passed, and neither of them let go. Ryn’s fingers curled around the fabric of his robe as his chest rose and fell, as his rapid breathing slowed down.

The quiet, melodic buzzing of her sword returned, filling the space with a serene tune, calling for her.

It felt wrong to pull away—Ryn’s muscles flexed in denial as she moved, as she unclasped her fingers from his robe.

“I have to go do something,” she said from a dry throat.

Xerxes’s hand flattened against her back as if to keep her there. He clung to the base of her armour with the other hand, right by her hip.

“I’ll come back,” she promised.

Xerxes’s brows twitched, his lips starting words he didn’t say. But after a second, he closed his mouth and nodded.

Their hands slid off each other as she dragged her heels toward the archway. His watery gaze stayed on hers with every step.

Ryn turned. She didn’t look behind her as she jogged for the staircase. As her boots thudded over each stair. As she went to finish what she started.

When she reached the top, her hand paused on the door’s lever. Beyond, turmoil tore through the palace in shouts and screams, and a loud, dark, cruel laugh consumed it all. Her flesh tightened, and she pushed through the door.

24

BELORME

“We shall destroy her!”

“Make way for the gods of mortals!”

“Revere the great goddess, Nyx! Revere Boreas, Helios, and Iris!”