Perhaps Thorda would prefer that Cyrus relish his pleasure in silence, a brooding image of assassination and death for the fishermen to describe to their friends and family when they returned home. Instead he laughed, and laughed, until tears were pouring down his face. He couldn’t help it. Despite all his training, all his effort, he had never truly believed they could accomplish such a victory against the empire. It had been a hope in the distance, a dream surely meant to be sought but never achieved.

Gordian’s blood on his swords said otherwise.

CHAPTER 30

SINSHEI

Sinshei vin Lucavi stood on the white beach of the Solemn Sands, arms crossed over her chest and mind distant. A pyre burned before her. Regent Gordian Goldleaf, meant to be her paragon champion and loyal ally, charred to ash within it.

“In the thousands of years spanning the great history of the Everlorn Empire, I daresay your failure tonight may rank among the most humiliating,” Imperator Magus shouted from the other side of the pyre. “Ten Seeds bled out to bless an unworthy man, who died mere moments after receiving it. Has such a gift ever gone to waste so quickly? This is why we have rules as to whom we bless and where we bless them.”

The two were alone upon the beach, with Soma and the rest of the imperial soldiers gathered up top to give them their privacy. Magus had seethed from the moment the battle ended all the way to the lighting of the pyre, but he had said nothing beyond grunts and one-word commands. It seemed he had been saving all his ire for when he could unleash it without eavesdroppers.

“Given the extreme distance from Gadir, and the dangers posed by assassins of the insurgence, I thought it best if Gordian were able to defend himself,” she said. It was a flimsy lie, and they both knew it.

“The regent need not defend himself if he is beloved by the populace,” Magus argued. “As for his defense, that responsibility falls to the Legion, not your priests and magistrates.”

“Yet he lies dead. Why, then, do you send me your ire? Was it not your responsibility to defend the ritual?”

The light of the pyre reflecting off Magus’s silver eyes was a paltry blaze compared to his growing rage.

“You would lay this at my feet?” he asked. “You purposefully sprang this upon me with less than a day’s notice, in a place and time not of my choosing. You wanted me unprepared, Anointed One. Do not dare admonish me for what you yourself caused.”