Page 46 of The Scarlet Star

The problem was that Xerxes wasn’t sure he could trust any of these fools. He was aware the Intelligentsia were lining the pockets of Folke guards, he just wasn’t sure which ones. All Folke looked the same—blue and silver with slightly fearful faceswhenever he got too close. Only the Divinities knew how to tell a trustworthy guard apart from a crooked one.

Xerxes stepped into the room, and even the sounds of breathing vanished.

He searched the guards nearest the door first, then those in the middle, those furthest away…

A blond fellow with rosy cheeks stood at the very back of the room, half in shadow where the window’s light didn’t reach. He cowered amidst his fellow Folke, keeping his gaze down on his feet.

Xerxes pointed. “You,” he said.

The Folke parted all the way down the assembly room, looking backward to see who had caught the King’s attention.

The blond fellow’s face paled as he realized an open path now lay between him and the King of Per-Siana. That the King was pointing right at him.

“Come with me,” Xerxes said, dropping his hand. He turned and headed back out of the assembly. Faint sounds of the fellow scrambling filled the dead-quiet room behind him.

Xerxes headed down the twisted palace hallways and up a tetrad of stairs until he reached the library, and there, he glanced between the shelves to ensure no one else was present. He turned to the fellow. The only Folke who might be immune to bribes in this particular situation.

Xerxes meant to inform the guard of his new assignment, but “Did I not warn you she was in danger?!” was what came out instead.

The fellow’s mouth hung open. Xerxes released a heavy sigh and reached over to shove the fellow’s jaw back up so his mouth wouldn’t dry out.

“She was attacked several days ago, like I warned you she would be,” he added. “Didn’t you hear about it?”

“Wh…who?” the guard stuttered.

“Your friend.Ryn.” Xerxes bit his lips together after he said it, liking saying her nickname far too much. “Since you’re the only guard I can trust with this, I’m charging you with her safety. Stand outside her door at night and always keep her in your view. Do you understand, Folke?”

The fellow nodded with red cheeks and startled eyes. Xerxes scanned the fellow’s uniform, finding it all fitting strangely.

“I cannotlose her,” Xerxes articulated.

“Yes, you can.”

“If she gets a single scratch, you’ll take responsibility and be punished,” he added.

Again, the Folke nodded, and Xerxes was beginning to wonder if the fellow had gone mute in the last few seconds.

“Go to your new post.” Xerxes waved in the general direction of the maidens’ rooms. “And go see a tailor too,” he added with a mutter as he turned for the library door. The scent of undusted books washed over him, and his nose wrinkled. Maybe he ought to remind the cleaners to pay more attention to the library.

The fellow finally found his voice again when Xerxes was half a step out the door: “I would give my life for hers.”

Xerxes hesitated. He turned back around, studying the Folke to see if he was serious.

It seemed he was. A crease hovered between the fellow’s brows, his head was held high, his eyes were even glossed with a strange message that made Xerxes draw back into the room.

“What sort of relationship do you have with that maiden to make you say such a thing?” he asked. Xerxes wasn’t the jealous sort, but his jaw slid to the side as he waited for the answer. He looked the fellow over afresh, finding him handsome enough—blond, strong, possibly sweet in an odd way once one got to know him.

Xerxes interlocked his fingers behind his back and squeezed them. Even though he was King, Xerxes knew his flawsmassively outweighed his attributes. Not that he cared what Estheryn thought of him. He simply wanted her to stay alive because she and her harp might be his only cure.

The fellow’s cheeks flushed again, and Xerxes suddenly did not want to know. “Never mind,” he said, turning to leave. If Estheryn had romantic feelings for a Folke, that was not his business. Though, if she was discovered, he as King would be forced to cast her out of the palace, put her in prison, or worse.

Xerxes realized his hands were in fists. He also realized he hadn’t taken a single step out the library door.

“Ryn is as good as my sister.” The Folke spoke again—wrongfully assuming Xerxes wanted him to.

Xerxes glanced back. He was making an annoying habit of trying to read this fellow’s face.

“A sister?” he asked, just to be sure.

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