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“Is the Heartstealer cursed? Is that why our dragon fell?”

If Ryn heard the word “Heartstealer” one more time, she’d lose it.

Even hours after she’d shouted at the gods in the night sky to release their dragon, to come down and face her, she still hadn’t found the strength to stand. Her calves ached, her back was sore, her eyes stung from lack of sleep.

The dragon had fallen as soon as the gods let go of it. The battle was short, and they’d flung pebbles. Ryn’s lip was busted, and her cheeks were scratched up. But by El’s power, she won.

She smirked as she remembered.

Thankfully, a man passing by had been kind enough to offer her water. Ryn had accepted gratefully. The man asked her if she was a Heartstealer maiden a moment after, and she’d scowled. Then she’d said, “No. Not at all.”

The great white dragon’s body took up half the Navy Road, almost reaching the palace. The creature’s mouth gaped open, its tongue hanging out the side. Overall, it was an embarrassment to anyone who’d ever revered it. People screamed when they saw it. They turned pale—one noblewoman even fainted. It had been like that all morning; a slow current of people discovering the great judge of the sky was dead. Unfortunately, Ryn was far too tired to explain to them that it had never actually been alive.

Ryn chugged the last of her water and eyed the sky where the sun indicated it was almost noon. She set the canteen aside and released a moan as she climbed to her feet. She leaned her hands on her knees, swaying a little. Her legs shook. She took in a deep breath, then she stood tall, grabbing her sword and dragging it along behind her.

She thought of her soft sheets in the palace. Her plush bed. She craved bread with sugar.

“I don’t want to do that again for a while,” she told El as she walked the length of the dragon’s serpentine body. Its tail nearly brushed the palace gates. “Also… I’m starving,” she added.

The gates were wide open when she arrived. The guards still weren’t back at their posts and Ryn looked around as she walked through. She took the shortcut through the gardens, flicking the blooms of unopened flowers, and she headed to the entrance stairs.

She took in a deep breath as she went over what she would say to Xerxes after what happened in the basement. She chewed on her lip. There wasn’t an easy way to explain that she could see shadows and that she’d battled them late into the night—and that’s why she’d left him there.

“Ugh.” She dug her fingers into her hair.

She stopped on the stairs, imagining telling him the truth. Telling him that even though his voices were gone, she didn’twantto leave the palace. She didn’twantto leave his side. But reason reminded her that she was just the maiden he needed, not the maiden he’d choose. And now that the gods had left him, he didn’t need her anymore.

The Heartstealer trials had been delayed anyway, and Ryn doubted Xerxes would be in a rush to start them up again.

Her sigh filled the entrance as she climbed the last stairs and went inside. Her feet came together when she saw the atrium.

Statues had been tipped over. The fountain was smashed, and an enormous puddle covered the floor, almost reaching her toes. It was empty—not even a servant was to be found.

Ryn drifted in, eyeing the puddle.

She was grabbed.

Her hand fumbled for her sword as someone pulled her into a hall and shoved her into the nearest bedroom. Ryn nearly raised her sword at him, until she saw Marcan’s face.

His eyes glistened. His bottom lip quivered.

“What are you doing?” Ryn asked. His normally polished hair stuck out in all directions.

“They know, Estheryn,” he said. He slapped a hand over his mouth as soon as he said it, like he couldn’t bear to hear his own words spoken aloud.

Ryn would have asked what he was talking about, but with the way his eyes hung on the verge of tears, something rolled in the pit of her abdomen.

Theyknow…

His fingers slid off his face. “They know everything: what you are, the laws you broke, what you came here to do.” Marcan squeezed his arms to himself and chewed on his thumbnail.

Ryn’s lips peeled apart, a thousand explanations rushing to the surface. “I…” What was there to say though? She couldn’t deny anything. Marcan must have put the pieces together already—it was probably obvious to him now based on things he’d seen and overheard her say.

“I need to see Xerxes,” she said.

Marcan released a gawking sound. “You should never call him that again!” he warned. “And no, Estheryn, you shouldnotgo see him.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “I am and always have been a Weylin—your enemy. And I know it’s treason, but if you want, my makeup artists and I can get you out of here right now.”

Ryn’s jaw dropped. “Marcan, you can’t be serious—”