A weak king, Raem thought, staring at the man. A weak father.

"The cursed ones are a threat," Raem said, clutching the hilt of his khopesh. "A threat I will not let grow. Not in this kingdom that I love. I will not cower upon rooftop gardens while the disease spreads through our mighty city, an abomination unto Taal." He sneered at the clay tablet the king held. "You are a man of words. I am a man of blades."

The old king sighed. "Walk with me through the gardens, my son."

Not waiting for a reply, the old man turned and began to head deeper into the rooftop gardens, moving down the pebbled path.

"Let us walk through the city!" Raem reached out and grabbed his father's shoulder. "I care not for strolls through a garden. March with me house by house, door by door. We will break bones. We will cut off fingers. We will interrogate the people until we find every last cursed, diseased creature. I will behead them myself."

The king turned back toward him. The old man's eyes dampened. The display of weakness disgusted Raem.

Nir-Ur spoke in a soft voice. "A curse? A disease? Raem . . . why do you name it thus? Perhaps it is a gift from the stars; the dragons rose in our kingdom once the dragon constellation began to shine. Your own wife. Your own daughter, the innocent Laira. They could have stayed with you, Raem, if only you had accepted their magic, their—"

Raem struck his father.

He struck so hard the old man fell to the ground. A family of cardinals fled. The clay tablet shattered.

"A gift!" Raem shouted, standing above his fallen father. "How dare you speak thus. My wife is impure, an abomination. So is Laira. When I discovered their filth—when I saw them shifting into reptiles in the shadows—they fled me like cowards. Accept them? When I find them in the northern, barbaric hinterlands, I will drag them back in chains, and I will lock them in Aerhein Tower, and I will watch them wither. They will beg for death before the end. Still the people of this city mock me. I hear them speak behind my back, talking of the prince who married a reptile, who fathered a reptile."

Blood trickled down the king's chin. Lying on the path, he stared up with watery eyes. "A reptile? Laira is your daughter, she—"

Raem spat. "I have only two children. Sena is strong and pure, a proud heir to the throne. Issari is a beautiful, chaste young woman, a princess for the people to worship. Both are pure of body and spirit. They inherited my blood. But Laira? She inherited my wife's disease. She is a creature. When I find her, she will suffer."

The old king struggled to rise, arms shaking. When he coughed, blood dripped onto the path. He managed to raise his head, and finally some anger filled his eyes.