"You are my only child now, Issari," Raem said. "You are the only pure thing our family has left."

Before she could react, Raem knelt, grabbed his disgraced son, and pulled the prince to his feet. He twisted the boy's arm behind his back and manhandled him out of the room.

"Father!" Issari cried, racing toward them. "Father, please. Please forgive him. He'll never shift again."

All traces of sadness had left Raem; rage now consumed him. Ignoring his daughter, he dragged his son along a hallway. The boy's bleeding nose left a trail behind them. Guards stood at attention between the hallway's columns, still and stiff, faces hidden inside their helms.

"Do you know what you did, my son?" Raem asked, voice shaking with his fury. "You spat upon Taal, the god of purity. You are an abomination." He twisted his son's arm so hard it nearly snapped. "You are filth."

He dragged the boy out of the palace. He shoved him into the courtyard, past the fig and palm trees, and toward the spot where only that morning Raem had executed a woman. Ignoring the prince's whimpers, Raem shoved the boy's neck down onto the chopping block.

Sena tried to speak, to beg. The boy looked over his shoulder, eyes full of tears, face covered in blood.

"Father, I'm sorr—"

Raem struck him again, a blow that bloodied Sena's mouth and chipped a tooth. The prince gurgled on blood, hiding his face, and Raem kicked him in the ribs. He shoved the boy's head down against the wood.

"You will not call me your father." Raem drew his khopesh from his belt. "You are no son of mine." He raised the semicircular blade, so enraged he could barely breathe. "By the god Taal, I condemn you to—"

"Father, no!"

The cry rose behind him, and Issari leaped onto his back. The princess clutched his arm, holding back his sword. Her tears fell onto his shoulder.

"Please!" the princess begged. "Send him into exile like Laira or imprison him in Aerhein Tower. But please, Father, please . . . don't kill him. For me."

Raem spun around, staring at the princess. Her cheeks were flushed and wet with tears. She trembled, clutching at him, whispering inaudible words. In a world of evil—his father's treachery, his wife and eldest daughter's exile, and now his son's abomination—Issari was a ray of piety. The young woman was a single, pure light in a dark world. Raem felt some of his rage dissipate.

"Oh, my daughter," he said. "Your heart is still too soft. But I will strength it. I will hammer your heart like a smith hammers bronze. You will be my heir now. Your grandfather is dead; he fell in the gardens. Your brother is diseased. Only you and I remain now, holding this fragile kingdom together."

Fresh tears budded in Issari's eyes. "Is Grandfather . . . ? He's . . ." She covered her face with her palms.

Raem yanked her hands away. "Dry your tears! Today you must be strong. I will honor your wish. I will spare your filthy brother's life. But he will not taint this kingdom again."