RYN

“Why? El, why?” It had been the quiet whisper of Ryn’s soul for days. At first, it was through weeping, and then she’d screamed it. Afterward, she sat quietly for a long time, letting the warmth ease her crushed soul.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” It was her first claim.

“Matthias’s family must be devastated.”

“Why am I alone again?”

Even the water in the temple had turned warm. It was part of the reason she didn’t want to leave. Because if she tried walking the palace halls again, she wasn’t sure she could face the cold.

“You have a purpose.”

“Matthias is more alive than he’s ever been. You’ll see him again after your long journey home.”

“You will never be alone.”

A quiet splash told her someone was approaching. She peeled her eyes open and found Geovani lowering to sit at her side.

“Still no sign of Heva,” the old woman said. Her green skirts absorbed the water quickly, saturating her knees. “The priestesses are praying for you, Adassah. I hope you feel it.”

Ryn nodded. It had been a warm embrace and a deep peace during her lowest hours of mourning.

“We’re praying for Heva too. I’m hoping and believing she’ll turn up.” Dark rings of exhaustion rested beneath Geovani’s eyes. She shook her head slowly. “Something is shifting in the atmosphere. I sense a great war of body and spirit coming this way fast.”

A light pull came over Ryn’s flesh. She had to admit, she felt it too. She’d been feeling it all day.

“I hope I’ve been a sufficient mentor to you, Adassah. I suspect you’ll face even greater trials than what you have until now. But so did every Adriel who said yes to El in our history. Those ‘yeses’ resulted in great change.”

The old woman’s words stirred within Ryn’s bones.

Ryn wanted to be brave. She didn’t want to be a little girl too scared to leave her island, too broken to move from her place in this temple where she sat alone and cried.

She knew now that the waters around the island had never been poisoned.

That she’d simply believed a lie she’d been told.

That she could have swum to a new shore any time she wanted…

and that was perhaps what El had been trying to make her realize all along.

That looking at an impossible situation through El’s eyes made it possible.

When men with great influence lied, a whole nation could fall under a spell of blindness.

And the blind were the most difficult to convince, the most difficult to change when they’d grown comfortable in their dictated values.

But Ryn thought of the blind beggar on the Navy Road.

El’s power had changed him and allowed him to see.

“The false gods have noticed you,” Geovani went on.

“But we knew they would, didn’t we?” The High Priestess stood and brushed water from her skirts.

“They’ll retaliate. All seven of those devils and their underlings will try to stop you from now on.

Things are going to get worse; there will be signs like never before. ”

“Let the gods try,” Ryn said. “I’m ready.”

Geovani nodded with a smile. “Go to your room and rest while you can.” She extended a hand to Ryn. It was just a gesture, but as Ryn stared at the old woman’s wrinkled hand, she realized she’d been stuck in this spot for a long time. She saw how important it was that she move.

She took Geovani’s hand, and the woman pulled her to her feet.

Ryn stared out at the night, watching the white dragon rule the sky, a mighty illusion of strength in the heavens above.

Her bedroom was unlit, but the moonlight angled in, glowing over her floor.

She didn’t feel like wearing a nightdress, so she dressed herself in Heva’s spare set of clothes and armour.

She hugged the clothes to herself when they were on.

They smelled like her guardswoman; a blend of powdery soap and the grassy wheat fields outside the First Temple.

She thought about how she’d yelled at Xerxes in the Hall of Stars. That terrible moment when she realized Matthias was gone from this mortal world, and she’d blamed the King. He was the most powerful person in Per-Siana. He should have been able to save one person.

At least those were the thoughts that had channelled through Ryn after that dreadful end to the senses trial. But over her hours of reflection, she grasped what a foolish assumption that was. Xerxes had his hands tied more than anyone else.

Maybe Adriels were always blaming the King because it was easy. When things went wrong in the city, it was his fault. When they were hungry, it was his fault. When they were being persecuted, it was always the King’s fault.

She sighed and rubbed her forehead as she pondered these things.

A commotion sounded in the hall, and she spun around. A crash followed. Glass shattered.

“Ryn!” Someone screamed her name, and bumps formed along her flesh. “ Ryn !”

The voice sounded like Xerxes but… she’d never heard him scream.

Her bedroom door banged open, and there he stood with a robe tied loosely around him, his hair a dripping mess. Ryn took in his state—his pale, grayish body, how he grabbed his head, how he struggled to stay standing. He looked like a child caught in a nightmare.

“Ryn.” It came out a dry growl. “I’m…” He shook his head. His lashes fluttered as he backed away toward her door like he wished he never came. “You should run,” he said through his teeth. He reeled backward into the hall.

Ryn followed him out, listening for his voices, catching the words they hissed. Understanding exactly what Xerxes was being told to do. “El,” she whispered as a bead of fear moved through her.

“KILL HER NOW!”

“She must die RIGHT NOW!”

“KILL HER.”

“I’m here.”

Ryn took hold of the sides of Xerxes’s head. His eyes flashed open, and he stared, unfocused. A warm wind fluttered along Ryn’s hands, and she knew El was with her, standing there in the dark hallway. Right at her side. It was on his behalf she said to the voices, “Be quiet.”

A gust of air was sucked out of the space.

Xerxes nearly lost his balance, but he caught himself on the wall.

Unshed tears filled his bloodshot eyes as he stared at her in disbelief, in horror, in question.

The scent of spoiled fruit wafted from him, so potent Ryn nearly choked.

She took in the bits of pear on his robe, the stain of fruit juice on his mouth.

She thought of his tree, the one webbed in shadows. That trunk of crooked limbs that produced both his curse and his treatment.

His treatment.

His curse .

Ryn wanted to kick herself. She huffed in disbelief as it dawned on her that the answer had been right in front of her the whole time. How long had this been going on right under her nose?

“It’s been long enough,” she said quietly. She said it to Xerxes, to El, to herself.

Xerxes was frozen to the wall, so she left him there. She marched back into her room, threw open her wardrobe and grabbed her sword. Xerxes was still where she’d left him when she came back. His gaze fell on the sword as she passed, as she went to do what needed to be done.

“Wait…” Xerxes rasped. “You’re not going to…” His voice turned panicked. “You can’t, Ryn, you can’t !”

Ryn heard him shuffle after her, so she broke into a sprint, staying well out of his reach as he teetered. She raced through the halls, past startled servants, making her way to the door at the top of the spiral staircase.

“Ryn!” Xerxes shouted. The plea echoed through the stairwell as she descended.

A thousand dark voices screamed in protest when she reached the bottom, when she came into the oval room and looked upon that great, terrible tree. The shadows swivelled, turning their heads in her direction.

“Leave us alone!”

“We will kill you!” they threatened.

Ryn drew her sword. She took in a deep breath as Xerxes stumbled into the room behind her.

“WE ARE GODS.”

“WE SHALL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU HAVE—”

She swung for the tree. Her sword released an anthem of song as it collided with its base, sailing into its wooden throat like it was cutting the head off a snake.

The shadows screamed, growling as she hacked, her sword gliding through the wood. She swung again, and Xerxes reached to grab her, but the volume of voices electrified the room, and he fell, gripping his head.

Chips of wood flew everywhere, releasing a great torrent of wind that ripped around the oval room and pulled at her hair. She hacked until the sweet snap of the last stronghold broke, and the whole tree tipped forward.

Branches shattered against the cobbled stone, pears tore from their perches and splattered to the floor.

Ryn watched the shadows unlatch and race into the tunnel above, going around and around.

They broke through the window overhead and disappeared, sending a shower of glass raining down.

Ryn raised her arm to shield her face as spiralling shards whisked by and pierced the floor.

She turned to race out of the palace, to follow the gods but…

Xerxes leaned back against the wall, staring at where the tree had been. Staring at the nothingness that was left. Water dripped down his cheeks from his damp hair. He clutched his robe closed at the collar, his body trembling.

Ryn lowered her arm.

The room rested in complete silence: no more voices, no more threats, no more temptations. The only sounds left were Ryn’s and Xerxes’s panting.

“They’re gone,” Xerxes whispered, to himself or Ryn—she wasn’t sure.

She looked at the tree’s remains, then at her sword. The buzzing music had hushed, and the blade was no longer glowing. She slid it away.

“You’re free, King,” she said as she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.

Xerxes didn’t reply.

Ryn headed for the staircase, but she paused at the doorway of the room. She waited—not sure what she was waiting for.

Then she heard Xerxes whisper, “Don’t leave me, Ryn.”

Something inside Ryn’s chest swelled. She didn’t know exactly what he was asking, if he was talking about this moment or something else.

It didn’t matter.

Ryn doubled back.

He caught her. She hugged her arms around his middle, crushing his body as she listened to the pounding of his heart. They breathed together.

Seconds passed, and neither of them let go. Ryn’s fingers curled around the fabric of his robe as his chest rose and fell, as his rapid breathing slowed down.

The quiet, melodic buzzing of her sword returned, filling the space with a serene tune, calling for her.

It felt wrong to pull away—Ryn’s muscles flexed in denial as she moved, as she unclasped her fingers from his robe.

“I have to go do something,” she said from a dry throat.

Xerxes’s hand flattened against her back as if to keep her there. He clung to the base of her armour with the other hand, right by her hip.

“I’ll come back,” she promised.

Xerxes’s brows twitched, his lips starting words he didn’t say. But after a second, he closed his mouth and nodded.

Their hands slid off each other as she dragged her heels toward the archway. His watery gaze stayed on hers with every step.

Ryn turned. She didn’t look behind her as she jogged for the staircase. As her boots thudded over each stair. As she went to finish what she started.

When she reached the top, her hand paused on the door’s lever. Beyond, turmoil tore through the palace in shouts and screams, and a loud, dark, cruel laugh consumed it all. Her flesh tightened, and she pushed through the door.