Page 17 of The Scarlet Star

The Hall of Stars buzzed with so much energy, Xerxes could hardly sit still in his gilded chair upon the dais. He shifted in his seat, licked the taste of pears from his lips, patted imaginary dirt off his shoulder, and tapped his toes against the floor. He wished to stand and pace, but he knew that would make people whisper. His robe was too warm for a day like today too, and the organizers had decided to keep the glass doors to the courtyard closed, suffocating everything in the room with still air. It was all unbearable.

Seven Celestial Divinity statues built into the walls gazed down into the Hall of Stars. The servants must have polished them for this event; the white marble glowed beneath the chandelier lights and the two hundred gold lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Xerxes eyed the statue of Nyx, her slender female form taking up half the East wall. For a Divinity who governed the night, she hadn’t helped Xerxes sleep much. Perhaps it was because Nyx was claimed to be the daughter ofchaos itself. Maybe it was the goddess’s nature to bring only restlessness to one’s sleep.

Xerxes rolled his eyes at the thought. He’d prayed to Nyx and Hesperus more times than he could count, and they never gifted him a pleasant slumber. He was sure the Celestial Divinities had all forgotten about the King of Per-Siana by now. Which was an easier truth to believe than the alternative; that they knew of his troubles and didn’t care.

Xerxes tapped his knuckles against his armrest, thinking of how the Divinities also hadn’t lifted a finger to stop him from being trapped on this throne facing the debacle before him today.

“What a fine day to meet the four Heartstealers,” one of the Intelligentsia murmured down the dais. Xerxes huffed a quiet laugh to himself. How shocked the Intelligentsia would be when they learned that one of their precious chosen maidens had already escaped the palace and was probably racing into the wilderness by now. Currently, there were only three maidens left, and despite the dreariness of the situation, Xerxes revelled in the fact that he would get to see the Intelligentsia discover this fun little fact up close.

A sweep of glassy wind chimes filled the Hall with music, and hundreds of nobles of the highest rankings turned to face the silver entrance. Only the dark blue centre carpet was empty—a walkway for the maidens. All the Intelligentsia who stood at Xerxes’s sides aimed themselves to watch the show, their shadowy faces peering from below their long hoods.

An organizer said a short welcome, and before Xerxes was ready, the first maiden was announced. Xerxes closed his eyes and sucked in a lungful of air. The announcer said her name wasUlita Sorabata. At one point, Belorme had informed Xerxes about these young women, but Xerxes couldn’t remember a thing about this Ulita person now. He rubbed his temples,waiting for it to be over as the nobles below reacted with gasps and other obnoxious noises.

He finally opened his eyes when the second maiden was announced—just a crack to see how terrible everything was.Calliope Ingrid. Unfortunately, Xerxes remembered that one. Only because the Intelligentsia had discussed her the most. This was the horrid woman Xerxes would likely be expected to marry. He released a huff of disbelief at the sight of the large, frilly pale blue and navy dress she wore. “This is utterly impractical,” Xerxes muttered.

At his side, Damon tilted his hood toward Xerxes. In his low, dark voice, he asked, “How so, Your Majesty?”

“What good will fancy dresses do for these women?” Xerxes asked, loud enough to challenge all the Intelligentsia down the line, yet quiet enough to keep the conversation from the rest of the nobles. “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?” Xerxes didn’t hear the third maiden announced through his talking.

Down the line, Belorme tilted his head toward Xerxes too, but he said nothing.

Xerxes closed his eyes and went back to rubbing his temples. He wanted a hot bath and a drink. What a waste of time this all was.

“Estheryn Electus,” the organizer announced, and Xerxes’s eyes opened. His gaze darted up. He was not interested in her, but perhaps he wanted to know what she looked like—the girl whose father had traded her life for his own freedom. The girl Xerxes, by a deal bound by the Celestial Divinities, now owned.

Xerxes’s heart stopped when he spotted her.

It wasn’t because she wore a gown inlaid with a depthless sea of gems, or because her sheer skirts whispered of the nightbreeze as she walked, or because she left strange, wet footprints behind when she came in. It wasn’t because it occurred to him thatfourmaidens had been named after all, instead of three.

No.

It was because he recognized her from the garden last night when she tried to escape. When shesucceededin escaping—with his help.

She’d returned.

A slow, wicked smile threatened Xerxes’s face when she lifted her gaze to him. Their eyes locked, and in her expression, Xerxes saw it all: her startled look as it dawned on her that she knew his face, the rigidness that seized her body, and the flash of horror as she must have remembered all those things she said to him in the garden.

“Goodbye, you ugly, heartless King!”

Those dangerous, exquisite, amusing words.

Forget the moment she mistook him for a palace servant.Thiswas now the most entertaining moment of Xerxes’s kingship.

7

RYN

The air was different in the Hall of Stars—colder. Ryn studied the nobles, the Intelligentsia, and the great statues around the room through the angled door from where she stood out of sight. Heva was already somewhere inside.

The lighting design in the Hall was unusual. Even though there were more lanterns than Ryn could count hanging from the ceiling, faint black shadows hovered inside like the light was being masked by a misty cloud above the nobles, an even darkershade around the Intelligentsia, and a few wispy breaths of it up by the heads of the Celestial statues. She wondered if the lighting trick was intentional, meant to set the mood.

Maybe the King preferred darkness.

Ryn shook the thought from her mind as the maiden before her finished her introduction. An organizer with a scroll in his hands nodded for Ryn to head in, and Ryn swallowed her nerves. She smoothed down her skirt. She tried kicking the last of the water off her sandals. She took in one last deep breath.

The second she stepped inside, an eruption of whispers came from the nobles who weren’t far enough away for Ryn to tune out. Some of the whispers were in admiration for Marcan’s mosaic dress, but the rest weren’t pleasant. Ryn’s cheeks grew warm as she thought of the benefactors and powerful nobles all seeing her as a threat in Marcan’s work of art. She regretted agreeing to wear this dress, even if Marcan had flashed his misty eyes at her when she’d refused.

But that all meant nothing the moment Ryn looked upon the King of Per-Siana, sitting on his gold throne atop a dais of glass stairs. His eyes had been closed, but they’d flashed open at the mention of her name.

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