Cyrus’s hands shook as he clutched his swords. No, it couldn’t be this simple. There was more hidden from him, something in the past to blunt such a condemnation of his family. They were good rulers, fair rulers, beloved by Thanet. They were nothing like the empire.

“You slew Thanet’s gods!” he shouted. At least in this, he knew they were blameless.

Magus met his eye. No laughter this time, only cold finality.

“As did you.”

“No,” he said. He shook his head with each word. “No. We would never. My family, we would never.”

Magus sheathed his sword and jammed his shield into the floorboards. He spoke not with laughter, but disgust. It made it so much worse.

“Lycaena was birthed upon Thanet, but not Endarius. The feathered Lion sailed with his faithful Mirli across the sea. He was a proud god, and would not bend his knee to anyone, not even other deities. Nor would he have his favored people be servants in another kingdom. The War of Tides that set your family upon its throne? Another god of Thanet, the deity Dagon, sought to protect the rule of his own chosen family, the Orani, from the Mirli royalty’s takeover.”

Magus pointed an accusing finger.

“That war ended with Dagon slain, his corpse dumped to the ocean to float among the countless dead of his priests. Endarius declared the Lythan family eternal kings and queens of Thanet. Dagon’s followers were ostracized, if not executed. His religious symbols were banned. Whatever books your family could not lock away in the royal archives were instead burned. But your purging fires could not reach our own imperial libraries safely tucked away on Gadir. Dagon became a villain in your stories, his true history forgotten as the centuries passed and the memories of the war faded. As for the Orani? Your family, ever so wicked, ever so cruel, forced them into servitude. Let all of Thanet see them humbled and broken, they loudly decreed, forced to feed and clothe the conquerors that stole their throne. So, too, would their children serve, and their children’s children, until the end of days.”

Each word was an arrow to his heart. He wanted to scream. He wanted to silence the doubt that grew like wildfire in his breast. Yet the Imperator was so certain, so convincing…

“You seek only to break my will,” Cyrus said. “Such crimes would stain us forever. We could never bury them so deeply that the island would forget.”