Page 97 of The Scarlet Star

“We can disguise you as one of us and leave. But you must decide in the next thirty seconds. I’ll be long gone from here in five minutes,” he went on. “The palace has been evacuated of all non-essential personnel. It’s a safety measure now that Per-Siana and B’rei Mira…” He waved a hand through the air like that was off topic. “Now would be your best time to escape. Everyone might forget about you soon with what’s coming.”

Ryn watched a crease form between his brows. His shoe tapped against the floor. He glanced toward the hallway, then back at her.

Run? Leave the palace?

Forever?

The sword slipped from Ryn’s hands and clattered over the floor. Marcan’s hand flashed out as if to silence it, his eyes turning wild.

“I didn’t know there was goodness to be found in the Weylin people,” Ryn admitted. “Weylins killed my mother and swayed my father to leave.”

Marcan sighed and folded his arms again. “Estheryn,” he said impatiently. “Decide.”

Ryn ran her fingers through her long, knotted hair, thinking. “I just want you to know that since I’ve come here, I’ve discovered several Weylins who have changed my mind. Including you.”

Marcan’s face fell. “That sounded like a goodbye,” he said. “You’re not coming, then?”

Ryn shook her head. “I need to see the King.”

Marcan looked like he might argue, but he pursed his lips, and then said, “He’s in the Throne Room. But if you go in there, you’d better be prepared to never come out again.”

Her throat thickened as she put a hand on her artist’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Marcan tsked. “May the Celestial Divinities watch over you,” he whispered. With that, he gave her a teary-eyed nod. He opened the door and held it for her, his lip quivering again as he did.

“I hope they don’t,” Ryn murmured as she walked through.

She turned for the atrium. When she reached it, she heard Marcan scamper the opposite way and flee out the entrance. She stepped over chunks of broken statues, kicking aside fountainwater as she headed toward the Throne Room. The halls felt empty without nobles and palace attendants fluttering around. There were no dancing napkins or dusters either; the sweet taste of magic was missing from the air.

Ryn had never been in the Throne Room—rumours in the palace claimed it was hardly ever used. She wasn’t certain where it was, but she followed the map in her head until she heard murmuring voices;lotsof them. She imagined the Throne Room was full of all the people missing from the rest of the palace.

“Ah…” Ryn paused just outside the vaulted entrance and glanced back the way she’d come. Her sword was still back in the bedroom.

“There she is.” A voice lifted from the hall, and Ryn spotted a dozen Folke approaching. One grabbed her arm before she could form her next thought.

“I need to see the K…” Ryn went silent as she was pulled into the room. The ceiling reached several stories high and gold-framed windows stretched the full stature. It was bright andpackedwith nobles.

Folke guards lined a gold carpet down the middle of the room that led to a glass dais, and on the dais was a gold throne, and on the throne…

Xerxes.

He wore his crown. His royal coat. His frown.

His eyes were closed. He held tight to the armrests of his throne, still as a statue.

Ryn took in a deep breath as the small army of Folke inched in around her. She studied the Intelligentsia lining the dais behind the King, and the enormous council of richly dressed people she realized she didn’t belong to. They stared down their noses at her. They scowled.

The Folke released her and stepped back, leaving Ryn to stand on her own before everyone. She rubbed her arms where they’d grabbed her.

“Estheryn Electus—or whatever your real name is—you have been caught committing the crimes of impersonating a noble, spying on the King, plotting treason, and entering the palace, which are crimes punishable by death.” Ryn didn’t look at Damon as he read from a scroll in his dark voice. She waited for Xerxes to open his eyes. She waited for him to look at her and say something.

Damon lowered the scroll. “The King, the Intelligentsia, and the King’s council hereby sentence you to be executed immediately.”

The words rang in her ears.

Guards grabbed Ryn from all sides. They yanked her wrists forward and slammed heavy metal cuffs over them. “King…” It came out a near-silent rasp. Ryn’s throat was too thick to shout for Xerxes. She waited for him to intervene as the Folke took a strong hold of her shoulders.

Xerxes didn’t move.

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