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“Didn’t I tell you that you must learn how to love?”

Ryn’s gaze drifted back to the man in the blindfold. El wanted her to love this beggar? She’d already felt compassion toward him after he’d reached out for help and didn’t find it.

“Is he an Adriel?” Ryn asked quietly.

“He’s not.”

She huffed. “Then why?”

“What if he can become one?”

Ryn’s face changed. She’d never heard of a Weylin choosing to become an Adriel. Only the other way around.

She took in a deep breath and squinted, trying to see the man differently.

She wasn’t sure how to turn her ‘spirit eyes’ on and off.

But the longer she stared, the more she made out the edges of chains.

Lots and lots of chains. Some around the man’s legs, and one large one around the man’s eyes.

The chains were of the same shadowy substance as the creatures in the Celestial Divinities temple, and Ryn swallowed.

“I don’t have my harp to chase these shadows away,” she reasoned.

“What are you doing, Ryn?” Heva called again. The Folke began nudging people back who got too close. A crowd was forming. “We have to go!”

“She’s a Heartstealer!” citizens shouted to each other, waving more people over.

“You don’t need your harp. Just tell these false gods to leave this man alone. Tell them you speak on my behalf.”

Ryn squeezed the man’s hand. A warm wind tickled her neck. “Celestial Divinities,” she called to them, “pay attention.” She eyed the chains over the man’s eyes and spoke to them next. “Leave this man at once. In the name of El Tsebaoth.”

Fire burned through Ryn’s stomach, and she inhaled, tearing her hand away from the man in surprise. A snapping sound filled her ears. She didn’t know what had happened, but something had changed—the air had shifted, something had moved between the two of them.

No… something had broken .

A gasp escaped the man. His hands trembled as he reached for his blindfold.

“Ryn!” Heva shouted. But Ryn kept her gaze on the man as he pulled down the cloth and blinked at the sunset in the distance.

The loud ring of Heva drawing her sword brought Ryn to stand. She whirled to find the Folke guards holding back a crowd who shouted at her, reached for her, tried to hand her things.

“Don’t you know how foolish it is to linger in the streets, Maiden?!” the same Folke as before snapped, and Ryn’s cheeks warmed.

“I’m sorry…” She watched people toss their dignity aside. They acted like she was one of the Divinities themselves and they wanted to grab her and feel her magic.

Wailing lifted at her back. Ryn found the beggar pointing up at the setting sun in disbelief.

“Well done, Adassah.”

The warm wind fluttered away.

The beggar stared at the buildings, at the people, at the streets left and right. Ryn was sure he could see. A slow, awe-filled smile found her face.

“You are wildly irresponsible, Maiden!” the Folke grabbed Ryn’s arm and her hood fell back. She reached to yank it up again, but realized the crowd wasn’t looking at her anymore; the crowd gasped and pointed toward the palace, their shouts lowering to whispers.

“Is that…?”

“That can’t be…”

Ryn tugged herself free of the guard.

“You think you can cause a ruckus for the Folke because you’re famous now? Ha!” The guard turned and grabbed the beggar instead, yanking him to his feet. “All this so you can give attention to a worthless street rat?!”

Ryn screamed when the guard grabbed the beggar’s hair, tilting his head back so his throat was exposed.

The beggar didn’t cry or protest; he gazed up at the sky in amazement as if seeing the clouds for the first time.

When the Folke guard tightened his grip, the beggar finally shrieked, the sound echoing down the street.

“Are you crazy?! Let him go!” Heva shouted at the guard.

“And look at him making another ruckus!” the Folke growled. Ryn tried to pry the guard’s hands from the beggar’s hair, but the guard shoved her backward so hard she stumbled over her own feet. Heva reached to catch Ryn but missed, and blurs of colours sped by as she spun into a fall.

Two hands caught her forearms, steadying her.

Ryn blinked at a navy coat inlaid with gold. Stitching of a white dragon coiled up the sleeve. A drop of fear sank through her as it dawned on her whose coat that was. Whose hands held her.

She lifted her eyes slowly to find a king looking back at her.

King Xerxes’s blue eyes were sharp. He lifted his gaze to the Folke guard harassing the beggar, then he dropped Ryn’s arms. At least thirty Folke followed him as he walked past.

“Is that the King?” the crowd whispered. “ Outside the palace? Can that really be him? Is this really what he looks like?”

“Your Majesty!” The guard dropped the beggar’s hair when he noticed. He forced a strange laugh. “I’m just dealing with a disruptive beggar.”

Xerxes smiled. Ryn studied it, trying to decide if it was real.

Xerxes was striking when he smiled, even when it didn’t appear genuine, and a few young women in the crowd started giggling.

But Ryn couldn’t be happy the King was pleased at the sight of a beggar being tormented.

She wouldn’t have helped the blind man see if she knew the whole kingdom would turn against him.

All the Folke guards—including Heva—stood at attention now, silent.

“I wonder if it hurts when someone’s hair is grabbed like that?” Xerxes thought aloud, and the guard chuckled.

“I imagine so, Your Majesty! This man was making a terrible ruckus, so I—”

Xerxes grabbed the Folke guard’s hair. Citizens in the crowd gasped and drew back as Xerxes held the guard exactly how the beggar had been held. The guard wailed in alarm, his eyes open wide as Xerxes forced him to look up at the sky.

The King leaned in, and Ryn heard him whisper, “Anyone would make a ruckus if their hair was grabbed like this.” Xerxes’s face darkened. “How dare you wear my colours, represent me, and harass my people in the streets? And how dare you grab my maiden like that?” He tossed the guard away.

Ryn’s mouth hung open as the guard scrambled backward and clasped his hands in pleading.

“Folke,” Xerxes called, and the Folke down the line lifted their heads. “Strip this guard of his uniform. He’s not worthy of it.”

Xerxes turned like he meant to leave, but he paused, glancing over at the beggar. Then at Ryn. Back to the beggar. “Give this beggar a year’s salary and food for this inconvenience,” he added. His throat bobbed as he left the crowd behind.

He caught Ryn’s hand on his way. A rhythm lifted in Ryn’s chest as Xerxes pulled her with him through the palace gate.

She wasn’t sure if it was an accident when his thumb brushed over her knuckles, or when his fingers tightened around hers.

Xerxes didn’t react to the crowd lifting hollers and cheers and shouting questions at his back while he took a shortcut through the garden.

Ryn’s knees trembled as they reached the wide palace entrance, and she nearly stumbled up the stairs.

Twice. Twice now, King Xerxes had shown up and saved her.

Xerxes didn’t let go of Ryn’s hand until they were in the atrium, and there, he turned so they were face to face. He was frowning.

Ryn folded her hands in front of her and glanced toward the entrance to see if Heva had kept up.

“Are you mad?” Xerxes asked, and her attention darted back to him.

Mad? No one had ever called her that. “I was trying to be kind—”

“What were you doing outside the palace in the first place after being attacked by assassins only days ago? You really must have the memory of a brick,” he said.

“And getting that close to a beggar?!” His chest expanded, and he exhaled as he dragged a hand through his hair, scuffing it out of its neat state.

“What if he’d drawn a dagger and held you hostage for ransom?

Don’t you know how often that happens to rich nobles? ”

“I’m not a rich noble,” Ryn murmured. The King should have figured that out by now since she didn’t even have her own clothes to wear. She bit her tongue after she said it though, hoping he understood that she was admitting to not being rich , and she wasn’t at all admitting to not being noble .

Xerxes pinched his lips and blinked slowly. “Don’t make me angry,” he warned. “It won’t be good for anyone.” When she didn’t reply, he took her arms and turned her wrists up. He began inspecting her thumbs, her knuckles, the undersides of her hands.

“What are you looking for?” Ryn asked. He tugged her sleeve up an inch.

“Bruises,” he said.

Ryn yanked her arms back. “I’m fine,” she said.

“That’s not why I’m searching.” He rolled his eyes.

“Then why look for bruises?” It came out like a scold, and she closed her mouth when maids around the atrium scowled at her for raising her voice at the King .

“I’m trying to decide if he should die today,” Xerxes said, and Ryn’s stomach dropped.

“W… What?”

“The guard,” Xerxes clarified. His brows tugged in when he studied the look on her face. “You don’t want him dead?”

“No!” Ryn said in horror. “Of course not!”

Xerxes squinted his eyes a little like he didn’t believe her.

After a moment, he said, “Fine.” He took in a deep breath and released it, glancing to the Folke trailing into the palace.

“Don’t go outside the palace walls, Maiden.

I thought I warned you that your guardswoman would pay the price if you did. ”

Ryn raised both hands. “I wasn’t escaping! It was for my charity work.”

His mouth went thin at the corners again. “You chose charity work outside the palace? I’ll have you switched to something else.”

“No!” Ryn released a breath and reached for him. “Please. I want to stay with the First Temple.”

Xerxes stared at her. He glanced down at where she clutched the sleeves of his royal coat. Ryn dropped her hands and clasped them in front of her again, wondering if the nearby servants were scowling at her all over again.

Heva appeared at the entrance panting and with flushed cheeks, so Ryn dipped into a strange curtsy.

“Farewell, Your Majesty,” she said. She turned and fled toward Heva.

But the King’s deep voice followed her. “Don’t you know it’s a crime to depart from the King’s presence before you’ve been dismissed?

” he said, and Ryn’s feet came together.

Even though the King’s tone was calm, maids in the atrium inhaled.

A few pointed, and Ryn wished she’d thought to pull her hood back up before she came inside.

She released a breath through her nose. How much more absurd could the rules in this palace get? No leaving, no Adriels, no self-dismissing from the King.

“So then chase me down and put me in prison, Your Majesty,” she invited, keeping her back to him.

It came out with a sweet touch of sarcasm.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be much different than this.

” She twirled a finger through the air at the palace where he knew full well she was being forced to endure as a Heartstealer.

She carried on and fell into step beside Heva.

A second later, the King’s laughter lifted through the atrium behind her.