Page 45

RYN

The sun was so bright in the morning, it woke Ryn from a deep sleep. She squinted at the light crawling into her eyes and rolled over to drift off again. But Heva poked her nose.

That was the start of what should have been a simple day.

The maidens suffered through a long meeting with the organizers during which Ryn stood behind the others and tried not to doze off.

They were given a strict list of rules and told to spend the day preparing for the senses trial.

A middle-aged Intelligentsia showed up to the meeting minutes before it should have ended and warned the maidens to stick to their senses .

He couldn’t have made it more obvious he wanted none of the maidens to touch the King, apart from Calliope.

Calliope had a gloating smile like she knew a secret.

The girl had been strangely quiet for the last day or two, so it was an unexpected turn of attitude.

Taste. That was the sense Ryn chose. She didn’t have many skills in comparison to noble maidens, but she knew how to bake an apple pie better than most women twice her age.

The kitchens were busy—the staff spent the morning trying to re-bake the cookies they’d lost. Ryn listened to the stories floating through the kitchen as she dragged her hot pie from the oven, filling the air with the fragrance of sweet apples and crisp crust.

She should have baked more than one pie; a few to taste test would have been smart.

But she didn’t bother wasting her time, knowing that regardless of what skill she came up with for the senses trial, Xerxes probably wouldn’t notice since he’d made it clear he didn’t want to go.

Adding the right amount of sugar wouldn’t miraculously make him change his mind.

So, Ryn decided to make better use of her time.

She trained in her room with Heva for the afternoon.

She watched Heva closely, studying her moves and mimicking them.

Ryn got several good hits in, and for the first time since the guardswoman had started showing her how to swing a sword, Heva hadn’t succeeded in landing a single strike on Ryn.

When Ryn lifted El’s sword, music floated into her ears; a quiet hum lifting off the metal, moving with the weapon. When she looked at it with her spirit eyes, she saw it glow bright enough to light the darkest corners of her room.

“I should take my sword with me,” she said to Heva. “To the senses trial. I think I can convince Marcan to weave it into my outfit again.”

“I told you I’d find the assassin before he makes a move on the King,” Heva said, stretching her wrists and rolling her sword. Their new plan wasn’t perfect, but Ryn was relieved Heva had agreed to save Xerxes.

“I’m nervous for you,” Ryn said. “Maybe you should stay away from the trial instead. What if it becomes an all-out war in the Hall of Stars?”

Heva smirked. “Then I’ll be in my glory.” She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and slid her sword away. “I’m going to the baths. Do you want to join, or… By the Divinities, Ryn, I don’t think you’re actually sweating,” she remarked.

Ryn looked down at herself. She wasn’t even tired yet.

Heva shook her head and made a tsking sound.

“Maybe I should start praying every morning. Or carrying a god’s sword.

Or… whatever it is you’re doing. Your strength isn’t natural, you know.

Look at you, then look at me.” She pointed back and forth between their bodies.

“I’m built like a soldier. And you’re—no offense—totally scrawny.

There’s nothing natural about it. What you can do is miraculous.

” She smacked her forehead like she thought of something that should have been obvious from the start.

“I’ve heard of this somewhere—when El himself is your strength, it can be like another arm in alignment with your arm, his hands over your hands, that sorta thing. ”

Ryn glanced at the clock as Heva rambled on, wondering if anyone had gotten snoopy and discovered her pie hiding in the back of the kitchen beneath a straw mat.

Heva waved a hand through the air to dismiss her thoughts. “Anyway, I’ll be back soon.”

Ryn placed her sword in the wardrobe after Heva left.

She thought about Heva’s comments about her god-strength.

She lifted her hands and arms, looking them over.

She hadn’t developed the sort of muscles Heva had—not even close.

But sometimes she felt like she could hop into the air and float.

She’d been noticing that the more time she spent in El’s presence, the lighter she felt.

Heva never returned.

Ryn paced for a while, tossing a book into the air and catching it again. Then she tried reading it. Several hours passed and Heva still didn’t come back.

When it grew stuffy, Ryn opened her window and filled the room with breeze. She glanced into the garden where the trees ruffled and flowers swayed below. She decided to climb down.

The fragrance of the garden washed over her as soon as her sandals hit the grass.

Ryn folded her arms and breathed it in as she walked, heading along winding paths she hadn’t walked before and noticing new kinds of trees and flowers.

She ventured beneath bridges and oval glass rooms that reminded her of bubbles in gold clasps.

It took her hours of slow strolling, but she made it all the way around the palace and back to where she started. Her stomach growled with hunger, and it occurred to her she’d long since missed dinner. The sun had slipped behind the mountains on her walk too, and dusk left everything gray.

Ryn headed toward her room. She was steps from the palace when, from the corner of her eye, she noticed a shadow move out from behind a tree. She slowed her walk, bumps forming over her flesh as she realized it was a person. Someone stood there, far to her right, by the trees.

Even though she knew she needed to look, Ryn couldn’t will her body to turn and see who it was. She remained still as coldness crawled up her legs, down her arms, prickled inside her ears.

“Where are you, El?” she whispered. Her hands felt empty. Her sword was still in her room.

“Help is coming.”

Ryn finally dragged her gaze over. Maybe it was because of all the mornings she’d spent in the Abandoned Temple, but the sight of spirits came easily now.

She recognized Damon’s face. But covering him was a black shadow creature, clinging to him like another person. It wrapped itself tightly around his shoulders and waist. She’d never noticed it in her previous encounters with the sage.

“Maiden,” Damon greeted, approaching with his hands clasped behind his back. His dark eyes looked hollow at night.

“I have somewhere to be,” Ryn lied, and Damon released an unusual laugh.

When he reached her, he came close like he had back in the atrium when Ryn wore the spoiled dress. His purple lips curled upward. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked, and something heavy moved through Ryn’s chest. She was sure the shadow was asking. Sure she was talking to a false god.

“What’s your name?” Ryn asked. She thought of the blind beggar in the streets with the chain of shadow over his eyes. How she’d spoken directly to the shadow and told it to leave.

Damon tilted his head and studied her. “Why do you ask that?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Ryn said to Damon. She glanced at the shadow whose back sharpened into spikes like a cat with its hair standing on end. “Are you part of the body of Nyx? Or Helios, maybe? Selene?” She named the gods she could remember. “Which one do you belong to?”

Damon looked startled at first.

The shadow refused to offer its name, so Ryn swallowed and turned back to Damon, finding his black eyes narrowed. “My God is far more powerful than yours,” she said. “If you want, I’ll tell your shadow to leave so you can be free—”

Damon grabbed Ryn’s jaw, and she gasped. “What makes you think I want to lose my gods?” He drove her back against a tree trunk with a look that turned Ryn’s blood cold. “Don’t go near my gods!” he threatened. Ryn shrank beneath the wildness in his voice, the harsh tilting of his brows.

She shoved him off, but he caught her shoulders instead. “Heva!” Ryn screamed up toward her room. “Matthi—” Damon grabbed the bottom half of her face, encompassing her whole jaw and holding it shut.

A heavy sigh came from Damon. “I came here with a simple task, Maiden. But you keep doing unexpected things.” He paused, his head tilting to the left like he was listening to something in the distance.

A grin sliced over his face, and he unpeeled his fingers from Ryn’s jaw. “Right on time,” he said.

“Heva—” Ryn’s cry was cut off when Damon took both sides of her head and pushed his mouth over hers.

Ryn shrieked in protest, hot tears forming behind her squeezed eyelids.

She pulled at his hands, kicking at his shin, and finally , he tore back with a grunt, grabbing her wrist in the same motion as she tried to slap him and slamming it against the tree trunk.

His dark lips curled up as she gaped at him in disgust.

“I adore you too, Lady Estheryn,” he shouted into the night. “But you cannot keep persuading me to meet you like this in secret…” Damon glanced to the left, and his words trailed off, a strange look coming over him.

Xerxes stood there, capturing the first traces of moonlight. His royal coat was covered in twigs and leaves, his chest rising and falling, his breath steaming in the cool air.

Ryn’s lips burned, revulsion sinking through her along with horror at what Xerxes would have just seen. Damon’s nails dug into her arms, but she didn’t move a muscle.

Xerxes’s glare hovered on Damon and Ryn beneath the tree. She wanted to shout at him, to beg him not to believe what he’d just witnessed. But all she knew was the heat of tears rolling down her face. She was done for because of this crime, forget being an Adriel.

Damon leaned and looked past the King, searching for something in the trees.