“Magus was a damn fool,” she seethed. “He and Gordian showed no patience, and little skill. I have done what I can, but it is in spite of their actions, not in concert with them. There is still time. The gods of Thanet are dead, and only the Vagrant gives them hope.”

“And now you blame others. You are vin Lucavi, little sister. Cease sniveling. You disgrace your own divinity.”

His cheek pressed tighter to hers. Did he mean it lovingly? Did Galvanis even know what it meant to be loved? Growing up in Eldrid, surrounded by faithful servants, and raised in the shadow of Lucavi… no, she doubted that he did. He understood loyalty, obedience, and servitude. Love? Sinshei had experienced no love from the God-Incarnate, and she expected no love from Galvanis. He might think his words love, but they were a pale facsimile, and it would not save her.

“This city was to be prepared for the ascension,” Galvanis seethed. “My ascension. I will not have my inheritance squandered because these savage hearts cling to their lost independence and their slain gods. I came here to ensure all was ready, and it is clearly not. From this day forth, I am Imperator of Thanet. For our entire empire’s sake, I pray I came soon enough to rectify these colossal errors.”

His pull tightened, hard enough that tears swelled at the corners of her eyes. She clenched her teeth, not to hold back any cry of pain, but to choke down her rage. If only a storm had delayed her brother. If only she’d had time to solidify herself as regent, and present Vallessau to him as a gift instead of a chaotic mess caused by the dead bastard, Magus. His errors, her blame, the accepted way of all the world.

“Thanet will surely prosper in your hands,” she said, knowing it was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“So much as it must, before the sacrifice,” he said, and released her hair. “Any other member of the empire, be they soldier, magistrate, or imperator, would suffer death for this magnitude of incompetence. But I will spare you that disgrace, dear Sinshei, for I cherish you still. I will not ascend to godhood while stepping over the corpse of my own sister.”

No, he wouldn’t, Sinshei knew. He would have her there, to fall to her knees, bow her head, and offer him her prayers. Even her obedience would not be enough. He sought her worship. If the world was cruel, he might even get it.

“Thank you,” she said, each syllable a needle stabbed into her tongue. “For your kindness.”