Page 25 of The Scarlet Star

Armour.

The maidens were dressed inarmour. No longer were they in soft, sweeping gowns and feminine silks. Instead, metal plates studded with gems and thick leather belts covered their bodies. And were those…swordsstrapped to their backs?

Xerxes swiped his sleeve over his mouth to clean it. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or throw something. They looked utterly ridiculous in their frilly versions of combat garb, and every soldier with sense knew that fitting a sword to theirbackinstead of theirsidewas laughable because it was difficult to draw. Xerxes’s hands balled into fists on his armrests. The women’s swords didn’t even look real. It was a mockery. A statement by the Intelligentsia because of what he’d said at the last event.

“How will those dresses save them if B’rei Mira attacks? Shouldn’t we be more concerned with finding a queen who can defend herself, rather than one who looks nice in a ridiculously large ball gown?”His own words haunted him. It took every ounce of his self control not to glare over at Belorme, to demand to know what this spectacle was. To throw the Chancellor off the dais before everyone. A slow, cool, watery sensation moved down his arms, down his legs, into his toes.

He hated many things about the dynamics of this palace. But what he hated more than anything was to be mocked. And Belorme had a special way of going about that. Xerxes tried to settle his rising heartrate, tried to calm the temptation burning through his mind. Tried to ignore the strange suggestions of the voices.

He bit his lips together as he watched the maidens. The dance was one performed at the Festival of Stars each year in theMother City, one of the most common noble dances. Three of the maidens were good at it. One of them was not.

Xerxes’s gaze narrowed on Estheryn Electus who had the look of a slender, graceful dancer, yet couldn’t seem to pull off the choreography to save her life. The sword strapped to her back appeared to be weighing her down too, and Xerxes wondered what her artist was thinking, giving her a heavy prop like that. The girl who liked to escape through the garden at night performed all the moves half a second after the other maidens. Xerxes couldn’t decide if it was funny or cringeworthy. The watching nobles hadn’t noticed her ever-so-slight delay—at least, no one was whispering about it. Perhaps they were busy obsessively watching theirfavouritemaidens.

He sat back in his chair as the music picked up tempo.

Xerxes also couldn’t decide if he found Estheryn pretty, and that bothered him. The armour fit her well, and she danced on her toes like a feather in the wind. Even her hair agreed with her movements as it swept around. Divinities curse him, maybe he did find her a little attractive.

He tore his eyes away from the maiden. He did not need more of a reason to hate himself today. He settled his gaze on something at the side of the room instead—a Folke guard he spotted, standing by the arch. The fellow had blond hair and a familiar nervous look upon him. Xerxes tilted his head, recognizing him as the new guard who’d invaded the baths that morning. The one who claimed to know Estheryn.

Xerxes didn’t mean to glance back at Estheryn, but as soon as he did, he caught her stealing a look over at the blond fellow, mid-twirl. It became painfully obvious that the two knew each other. Were possibly close enough that he had a sweet little nickname for her.

Xerxes’s finger tapped slowly against his chin.

“You want to kill him, don’t you?”

“Of course not,” Xerxes replied, not caring that the sages down the dais could hear him.

But it was a lie. Xerxes wanted to tear that guard apart, and he had no idea why.

He sighed and closed his eyes, waiting for the Initiation display to be over. Fighting the call within him and the stream of icy water pooling through his veins. He rarely got urges so shortly after eating a spellbound fruit—It was far too early for this nonsense. He could handle this. He could hold on for one more hour until it was over. And then he could race back into the basement and rescue himself with a pear before he lost his mind.

He. Would.Not. Lose. Control—

“Open your eyes, Your Majesty. Or people might think you’re having a hard time,” Belorme’s voice slithered into his consciousness, and Xerxes’s skin went tight. The Chancellor had sounded less like he was giving advice, and more like he was laughing.

Laughing. Because he’d pulled one over on Xerxes today. He had, once again, reminded Xerxes who really had all the control in this palace. He had reached out his hand and influenced the maidens who were supposed to belong to Xerxes, yet, who were really only puppets on strings Belorme tugged along himself. Like every other soul in the palace, in the kingdom. Including Xerxes.

Xerxes would destroy him. And his display.

His eyes flashed open, and he found himself standing. He heard himself shouting. All the music and dancing ceased as Xerxes called over the Hall of Stars, “What good is dancing for the welfare of this kingdom? Will dancing keep the Per-Siana people safe?”

Nobles gasped and rushed out of the way as Xerxes marched down the dais stairs, across the navy carpet, and through the maidens who shrank back at his nearness. He approached theblond Folke guard at the back of the room by the arch. Xerxes stood over him, a swelling hunger creating such a ruckus in his stomach, he was hardly sure he was really seeing the guard at all.

Xerxes reached for the fellow’s sword and tore it from its sheath. A noble or two screamed; the Folke guard’s face paled.

“Your Majesty!” Belorme called from the dais with no more laughter in his voice. “I need a word!”

Xerxes whirled to face the room. He lifted the sword, pointing it directly at the maidens who had been used to mock him. “I want to know which maiden can overtake me in a fight,” he stated. One of the maidens slapped a hand to her chest, the others backed away. Xerxes did not care. He did not stop. He pointed toward the glass door beneath the Divinity statues of Iris and Boreas. “Into the courtyard. Every.Single. One of you.” His gaze cut to the nobles to assure them he expected their obedience as well.

A shadow swept over the room as if the clouds in the sky had heard his command and taken the sun hostage.

By the dozens, people filed out of the Hall of Stars and into the courtyard. Rain spat upon the stones as Xerxes marched out. The nobles rushed to stand beneath the nearest balcony held up by four large pillars; the only dry spot left in the yard.

The maidens hadn’t even gotten all the way outside before Xerxes grabbed the first one, dragging her with him by her outrageously decorated gauntlet. The metal didn’t feel real—Xerxes guessed it to be painted bark, or worse, some sort of craft board. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream.

He tossed the first maiden ahead, and she whirled to face him with large eyes. “Draw your sword,” he commanded her, eyeing her silly, bow-covered belt that was an insult to any soldier who’d seen real battle.

The maiden’s hands shook as she struggled to pull the sword from the sheath on her back. When she got it out, Xerxes slashedit in half before she even lifted it, and she screamed as both pieces of her craft board weapon soared to the ground. She fell backward onto her rear and raised her hands to shield herself.

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