Page 12

RYN

The air was different in the Hall of Stars—colder. Ryn studied the nobles, the Intelligentsia, and the great statues around the room through the angled door from where she stood out of sight. Heva was already somewhere inside.

The lighting design in the Hall was unusual.

Even though there were more lanterns than Ryn could count hanging from the ceiling, faint black shadows hovered inside like the light was being masked by a misty cloud above the nobles, an even darker shade around the Intelligentsia, and a few wispy breaths of it up by the heads of the Celestial statues.

She wondered if the lighting trick was intentional, meant to set the mood.

Maybe the King preferred darkness.

Ryn shook the thought from her mind as the maiden before her finished her introduction.

An organizer with a scroll in his hands nodded for Ryn to head in, and Ryn swallowed her nerves.

She smoothed down her skirt. She tried kicking the last of the water off her sandals. She took in one last deep breath.

The second she stepped inside, an eruption of whispers came from the nobles who weren’t far enough away for Ryn to tune out.

Some of the whispers were in admiration for Marcan’s mosaic dress, but the rest weren’t pleasant.

Ryn’s cheeks grew warm as she thought of the benefactors and powerful nobles all seeing her as a threat in Marcan’s work of art.

She regretted agreeing to wear this dress, even if Marcan had flashed his misty eyes at her when she’d refused.

But that all meant nothing the moment Ryn looked upon the King of Per-Siana, sitting on his gold throne atop a dais of glass stairs. His eyes had been closed, but they’d flashed open at the mention of her name.

Ryn took in his rich, fitted robe and the thin gold crown upon his dark hair. He was much younger than she’d expected, not the old troll she’d pictured—that was her first thought. But when he settled his gaze upon her… and then the corner of his mouth tugged upward…

She froze halfway down the carpet.

Ryn imagined him in a dirt-covered landscaping tunic, his hair a mess, his features dimmed by the night’s shadows.

A flush threatened to turn her cheeks to roses as warmth speared up her neck. She tried to tell herself her eyes were deceiving her. That this could not really be the same young man she’d spilled her terrible plan of escape to. Whom she’d persuaded to lift her over the wall in an act of betrayal.

Ryn’s sandals were sticky against the floor when she resumed walking, each step a chore as she wondered how far behind her the silver arch was.

As she wondered how difficult it would be to run for it, to make it through the halls and out the palace front entrance.

She could be dead by midnight if she stayed.

But the Folke guarded the doors, and the mosaic dress was so heavy, she’d have trouble walking out, let alone running.

She pulled her parted lips closed, and she swallowed past her thick, dry throat.

“Maiden!” someone whispered. She tore her gaze off the King and landed it on an organizer beside the walkway. The organizer gave a small nod toward the other three Heartstealer maidens standing near the end of the navy carpet. Where she was supposed to be standing.

Ryn’s legs quivered as she rushed to join them. She thought she might crumple to the floor and melt into it. The nobles’ heavy gazes were like hands squeezing her insides.

The organizers said several things to the room—things Ryn didn’t hear. Everything became a blur of sounds and colour. Her lungs were too tight to breathe properly.

Through the distortion of glassy glimmers from the overhead lanterns, the clapping nobles, and the faint smell of fermented fruit in the air, one single, crystal-clear thought entered Ryn’s mind.

The King had looked up when her name was called.

She hadn’t imagined it. The King had recognized her name.

Ryn’s eyes darted back up the dais, finding him. The King hadn’t moved a muscle. He sat with good posture on his throne now, facing the room with interest.

He was still looking at her.

Ryn’s gaze dropped back to the floor.

A slow procession of events followed where the maidens each took a turn gliding to a designated space before the King and his Intelligentsia and bowing as a form of formal greeting.

Ryn twisted her fingers. Her lashes fluttered against a dizzy spell.

She was sure she’d pass out when it was her turn.

The third maiden finished a bow and a fine curtsy.

She, like the others, said one or two greetings to the King in a soft, sweet voice, introducing herself and stating her intentions to try and impress him in the trials.

He never said anything back. Not to the first maiden, not to the second, not to the third either.

The third maiden turned and left down the navy carpet.

The organizer waved Ryn forward, and she dragged her feet in slow steps, one after the other, until she was in the spot directly before the King.

It was then she realized she didn’t know how to perform a proper bow.

She didn’t know how to curtsy, either, or say an appropriate greeting to royalty.

And, Divinities, she’d been too distracted to overhear the other girls’ greetings to copy them.

People noticed she didn’t greet the King, didn’t look up at him. So, she cleared her throat quietly, and said, “Your Majesty—”

“ Ugly , was it?” he cut her off, and her wide eyes flashed up to him after all. “And heartless ?”

Ryn’s lips peeled apart. Intelligentsia members tilted toward the King. She had no idea if they knew what he was referring to—if they’d learned of the names she’d called him to his face.

She took in a slow, shaky breath. “You must have me confused with someone else,” she rasped. “I don’t know what you speak of.”

The King stared at her for a moment. And then he laughed.

The entire room hushed, the Intelligentsia staring at the King with startled faces like they’d never heard him laugh before. Like Ryn had done something terrible by making him react at all. One sage leaned forward and whispered to the sage in front of him.

The King’s laugh was raspy and deep in contrast to his youthful appearance, and some of the nobles began giggling along with him. Ryn laced her fingers together tightly in front of her, strangling them. After a moment, the King’s laughter ceased, bringing the marvel to an end, and he sighed.

“Divinities,” he cursed.

The King suddenly stood from his throne and the nobles at Ryn’s back burst into shocked murmurs and gasps as he trotted down the glass stairs until he was in front of her. He eyed her rosy cheeks, her throat when she swallowed, her dress.

“And they say I’m crazy,” he said. He poked her forehead. “You must have the memory of a brick.”

Ryn’s mouth parted.

A brick ?!

The King bit his lips together. Then, he huffed another laugh to himself, and he walked past her.

He left the Hall of Stars.

Whispers rose, some Intelligentsia taking steps after him. Even the organizers looked dumbfounded as the King marched down the navy carpet and out the silver arch. Ryn turned to watch him go, and only when he was out of sight did her heart cease its pounding against her chest.

“Well, that concludes our Introduction Ceremony! I’m sure the King was pleased to meet all the Heartstealer maidens,” the organizer host said, though, he didn’t look convinced the King was pleased with any of it. “Thank you all for coming!”

Nobles shifted around and the maidens excused themselves, one of the maidens glaring at Ryn on her way out. But Ryn remained standing at the foot of the glass dais, staring at the silver arch. Asking herself what she’d done.

Asking if that young, handsome landscaper was really the King of Per-Siana or if this was some kind of trick.

A Folke guard moved by the silver entrance, and Ryn glanced over to him.

Her focus sharpened on his red-cheeked face, and for a moment she forgot where she was.

A blond-haired priest stood there—one she’d seen almost every day walking past her house, one she often chased down the street for fun, one who always joined her and Kai for dinner on special occasions.

Matthias wore dark blue Folke armour and had a sword strapped to his hip. He cast Ryn a look of warning, and she thought she was dreaming. She took a step toward him, but he gave her a small shake of his head, and she halted.

No, of course she couldn’t approach him. But what was Matthias doing here?

“Kai sent someone in as soon as you were taken.” Theo’s words rang through Ryn’s mind, and she nearly gasped in the middle of the Hall of Stars.

Matthias?!

She could hardly believe it. Of all people, Kai had sent in sweet-hearted, good-natured Matthias who never crushed bugs because he believed they deserved to live just as much as humans? Did Matthias even know how to use that Folke sword?

Ryn thought of the priests at the Priesthood temple carrying weapons. How Theo was ready to strike her down outside the temple. How he’d worn a black cloak over his green priest garments.

But the priests were wrong. Ryn needed to tell Matthais everything before it was too late; what she’d done in the garden, how she’d insulted the King, how the Priesthood’s plan was no longer going to work—

A hand took Ryn’s wrist; Heva pulled her toward the arch.

“Wait,” Ryn said from a dry mouth. She tugged her arm free and pushed through the crowd to a table of flowers in glass vases. She ripped a white petal from a large bloom.

“What are you doing?” Heva’s low whisper found her. “Everyone’s looking at you, Ryn.”