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Her gaze fell to his square jaw, the width of his shoulders, his arms. Her smile faded.

The first time she saw him in the garden, she thought he was a Folke because of his build.

He looked older than her but looks could be deceiving.

She wondered if he really was still a child.

She wondered if Xerxes had even been old enough to be married when he’d met his first wife.

“How old are you?” she asked, chasing away thoughts of his first wife.

Xerxes tilted his head. “That’s rude to ask.”

Ryn chewed on the inside of her cheek. “That’s the second time you’ve called me rude tonight. If you think I’m so impolite, Your Majesty, why don’t you just send me home?” She flashed him a fresh smile. “Spare me this torture.” She nodded down to their ‘dance’.

His lips peeled apart. “What…?”

Ryn raised an eyebrow.

He burst out laughing.

His laughter was deep and coarse, the sound pebbling Ryn’s skin. Like last time, people whirled, slapped their hands over their mouths, whispered to their neighbours. Those nearby leaned in like they wanted to hear what his laughter sounded like.

“Not a chance,” Xerxes said through chuckles. “You’re mine, Maiden. Fair and square.” He shook his head and nudged her into a twirl. He caught her when she came around.

“It’s not fair for me,” Ryn pointed out.

Xerxes’s smile fizzled away. “Do you still want to leave?” he asked. His hand tightened slightly on her side.

Days ago, Ryn would have had an easy answer to that question. But Kai had abandoned her to this place, and Geovani wanted to use her to fight the gods. Ryn would miss Heva anyway. It was a strange mix of emotions.

“If you want to leave, I’ll let you go.” His voice was steady.

Ryn’s gaze shot up. Xerxes’s expression was serious.

She realized they’d stopped dancing. Cool air sailed into the ballroom and brushed across her back as Xerxes adjusted his hand, slipping his fingers between hers and holding her palm tight against his. He leaned in, staring at her with all the seriousness and authority of a ruler.

But the ever-so-slight twitch at the corner of his eyes left her wondering…

He was lying.

Ryn huffed a laugh of disbelief and relaxed her shoulders. “You’re a monster,” she said. For a moment, she really thought he was going to let her go.

His grin returned. “The sooner you realize it, the better.”

Xerxes pulled her in until her cheek fell along his collarbone. His arm wrapped her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. But nothing about the way Ryn’s heartbeat picked up speed was natural.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone really hugged her.

It was unlike being held by Kai, not that Kai had hugged her much.

She could hear Xerxes’s heart beating through his jacket.

She could smell the fragrant soaps his clothes had been washed with.

Her throat grew thick, and she held her breath.

The last person who had held her like this must have been her mother.

“Maiden.” Xerxes’s voice was raspy. He started dancing again, slower than before. When she stole a look up, she caught him glaring at an approaching organizer. The organizer quickly turned around and scurried off.

“I thought you liked calling me Ryn ,” she said.

He paused. Then, “Ryn. I know you heard my voices the day of the Initiation Ritual. Out in the courtyard.”

Ryn moved to pull away, but his hand found her back, keeping her pressed against him. Keeping her from looking up at him. Like he wouldn’t be able to speak if she did.

“You told them to be quiet,” he added in a lower voice. “And they obeyed.”

It occurred to Ryn that she hadn’t tried to hear his tormentors since. She hadn’t had a reason to.

She cleared her throat. “Well, since you think I’m a witch—”

“I don’t care what you are.” His tone cut through her lighthearted joke.

“I don’t care if you’re a sorceress, if you’re here to cast me under a spell, if you truly do have the power of the gods themselves.

I don’t care if you are a god. If you’re a goddess of wrath here to trick me and other mortals. ”

Ryn tugged herself away. She cast him a wild look, but the expression on his face made it clear he hadn’t ruled any of those things out.

He said it again, “I don’t care what you are.”

I don’t care.

What you are.

The claim turned itself over in Ryn’s mind. He didn’t understand what he was saying to someone like her. And what was he thinking, inviting in a goddess of wrath? Legends of men doing that never ended well.

“Are you out of your mind?” she blurted.

He blinked. “Yes. That should be obvious by now.”

A moment of silence swept by. This time, it was Ryn who blinked. Over and over.

Of all the things, that particular statement should not have been funny. But the corner of Ryn’s mouth twitched. What a horrid time to feel laughter bubbling up—

Xerxes pressed his thumb over the corner of her mouth, right where it tugged. “Don’t you dare,” he warned, but a smile broke across his lips instead as he watched her struggle to keep it in, and despite his efforts, a giggle slipped from Ryn’s mouth.

“Divinities,” Xerxes cursed. “This was supposed to be a serious conversation.” He bit his lip over a grin.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Please, go on with your serious conversation.”

“Ryn,” he tried again, smothering his smile. “Stop it.”

She put a hand over her mouth, sealing away her responses, her mouth, and anything else that might get in his way.

Xerxes cleared his throat. His face was straight again when he looked her in the eyes. “I want to make you a deal.”

“To leave?” she guessed through her fingers.

“No.” The shadow of a smile threatened his mouth again, but it disappeared just as quickly. “To save me.”

The humour inside Ryn melted away. Her fingers slid off her lips, her hand falling to her side.

Her mind sailed back to when she stood before a Priesthood, swearing to do their bidding. When she’d agreed to kill a king. For her people—because he was her enemy . And despite how many times Xerxes claimed she belonged to him, the truth was she never would. The King would never want an Adriel.

They’d stopped dancing again.

Xerxes’s gaze darted back and forth between her eyes. He was holding her hands. She didn’t remember him taking her hands.

He spoke again when she didn’t reply. “Cure me, Ryn. And in exchange, I’ll give you anything. Even up to half of my kingdom if you want it.”

Ryn’s lips peeled apart.

Half of Per-Siana? Xerxes was out of his mind.

The colours in the room bled together. All Ryn could see clearly was Xerxes standing before her; a young King she’d come to destroy, asking her to be the one to save him.

Offering her half the kingdom to do it.

Yes, it was the uttering of a crazy, haunted King. But he was still the King.

Ryn could save the Adriels. She could rescue her people from persecution, give them a safe place to go. And she could do it without killing anyone, or marrying anyone, or any other thing the Priesthood wanted from her.

“What should I say?” she whispered, not sure who she was speaking to.

“Why don’t you say yes?”

Ryn’s mother had always claimed there was a purpose for why Ryn had been created. What if this was it?

“I’ll do it,” she said from a dry throat.

They stood in the centre of the great ballroom before hundreds of witnesses, but Xerxes must have forgotten about them. His gaze remained on her as he let his hand slide off her waist, as he set her free.

“I’ll give you until the end of the trial period,” he said. “Three months.”

Three months. The Heartstealer trials would be over in three months. Xerxes would have to choose a queen in under three months. Three months was nothing.