Page 64 of The Scarlet Star

“You imagine?” Xerxes folded his arms. “What an imagination you have.”

“Well, she prays in the mornings anyways in a place no one can find her,” the fellow said, and Xerxes’s abdomen warmed. He thought about that place—the temple she’d shown him last night. Where he’d…

Xerxes swallowed when he remembered how she’d looked with her damp hair and water running down her cheeks. How she’d whispered to him, her lips shifting with such slow, gentle movements—how he’d kissed her in a fit because of it.

“I like you.”

Xerxes slapped a hand against the side of his head. “Ah!” he scowled, and a few Folke looked at him like he was crazy—which he was. “Why,” he whispered. “Why, why, why.” He dropped to lean his palms against his knees. He closed his eyes and thought about anything and everything else. The wind was nice. Therewere sounds in the trees. Somewhere in the distance a bird squawked.

“Are you all right, Your Majesty?” the blond fellow asked.

No. He hadn’t been all right in ten years.

“I’m fine.” Xerxes stood to his full height again. He wanted to find Ryn and make this right so there weren’t any misunderstandings. He wasn’t a fool easily swayed by pretty maidens, even if they made him laugh, tempted him with fun, and silenced his voices.

He wanted her.

Xerxes smacked the side of his head again.

Divinities curse him for it. He wanted her and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Why?

He spun to face the Folke. “Let’s end this. I have important things to do,” he called over the yard.

The library looked small from the ceiling heights. When there was an irritating stir by the entrance, Xerxes leaned carefully to look over the side of the shelf he hid high upon. He’d only been there for an hour reading a book of short stories he’d read a thousand times before. He sipped water as he scanned the pictures which had been his favourite part as a boy, the sketch of the large, black dragon especially.

There was something about the mighty creature that Xerxes liked. The villagers in the story were afraid of its size when it first appeared over their village. And so, they fetched their clubs and ropes, and they hunted it day and night. But despite their bestefforts, the dragon couldn’t be tamed or locked away. Every time the villagers tried, it escaped.

Eventually, the villagers grew weary from all the hunting and lack of sleep, and their bones grew brittle in their skin. They gave up trying to trap the dragon, stopping all desperate attempts to put the great beast in a cage.

When the dragon turned and saw no one following him anymore, for the first time in many years, he looked to the sunset instead of constantly watching over his shoulder. And to the villagers’ surprise, the mighty creature left, flapping away until it was merely a speck on the horizon.

In the end, after suffering greatly, the village learned that if they’d let the dragon go free from the beginning and had stopped trying to imprison it, it wouldn’t have had a reason to continue tormenting them. It would have gotten bored and left long ago.

Xerxes took another long drink of water as he eyed the sketch. He was sure he could draw the dragon by heart now if he wanted.

There was another shuffle at the library entrance, and Xerxes lazily glanced over to see who was responsible for disrupting his reading. He sat up straighter when he saw Calliope sweeping into the library in a dress the Intelligentsia had probably paid for. Not that she needed it. The maiden was likely as rich as Xerxes.

Behind her came the other two—whatever their names were.

Xerxes set his water glass down when he spotted the last maiden, the one who was convinced he didn’t know how to have fun. She wore one of the garments he’d supplied her; a silk red dress customary of the nobles who visited the palace. She didn’t look bad in it.

She would soon.

Fun, she’d said? She’d even accused him of being incapable of it.

It was a wonder she even knew how to laugh, considering she grew up poor—or so Xerxes guessed—and had an evil father—which Xerxes had witnessed himself—and was trapped in the palace—which was Xerxes’s fault, really.

Xerxes rolled onto his knees in silence and gently closed his book. He picked up his water glass and watched as the maidens travelled around the shelves toward the learning centre. Calliope passed beneath Xerxes. The two nameless ones followed. And then…

Xerxes held out his water glass. He tipped it just as Ryn swept by below.

She stopped walking when the first sprinkle hit her head. She scrunched her nose as she looked around. The other maidens made it through the shelves and disappeared out of sight.

A wide, terrible smile spread across Xerxes’s face. He dumped the entire glass.

Ryn shrieked as water splattered into her hair, tumbled down her arms, and soaked her sleeves. She whirled, her gaze climbing up the shelves.

---