Rune and Ruin

31 - Broken Tresses

391 B.C.E. The Palace of the Emperor, Tasuri Capital of Rune, Tasurian Peninsula, Spring, Month of Lunius

Thania

Tems keeps me pressed close to his side as the crowd of nobles and slaves seems to swell. Panic is setting in as the two, then four, of the emperor's guards begin to attack the doors back into the palace. They are sealed shut, and I presume designed to withstand an attack by a Tasuri army. It's unfortunate that we've been locked outside.

"This is ridiculous!" Tems protests, sounding like a petulant child. "Try the Rotunda!" he argues with his cousin. Through our bond, I can tell his heart is hammering hard. Panicked crowds are always dangerous, and, for a while longer, we are on our own.

My bonded's nerves are nothing compared to the putrid fear wafting from his cousin. The emperor's scaly skin looks as grey as the ash that still floats in the air. I wonder if he knows his end is near?

May his eyes gaze upon the grey for an eternity

I tuck myself closer to Tems, my fingertips finding the grooves between his scales to settle into. The goddess sounds as if she's praying. Or, perhaps... cursing?

She is silent. Watchful. Under the tumult of the crowd, the world seems heavier, the light in the morning sky darker, yet everything is brighter than before. Am I the only one who sees it?

"Yes," the emperor agrees. "To the Rotunda." His raspy, weak command is instantly obeyed, and I wonder if it's because the nobles are conditioned to obey, they're seeking assurance in any form it comes, or if it's because it was Tems's suggestion in the first place.

As we rush toward the Rotunda, I can't help but notice how different my lover is from his cousin. Tems is at least a head taller. His back is straight and proud. Every muscle under his scales shifts and moves in honed perfection. He has become a warrior over these last couple of years, while his cousin is rotting dung.

Tems chokes out a laugh next to me, then leans down to nip my cheek. "Naughty thing. On your toes," he admonishes.

I smirk up at him. It's not my fault I'm amusing. He's the one who needs to pay attention to the crowd flowing into the Rotunda, the doors miraculously left unlocked.

I jump and glare when I feel the pinch on my bottom. Now, it's Tems's turn to smirk.

We rush inside the dark, cool interior, and for a moment, I'm suspended in the past. The circular room spreads out all around, encapsulating us at the center of ascending rows of white benches. Every so often, a family crest declares which House the seats belong to, until, at the very top center, is the emperor's throne of dark purple. Tems had told me earlier that the higher your seat, the more power and history the House has. The Fyrrin House is also at the top, decorated with a blood-red crest, just to the right of the emperor. To his left, the Runion House in deep blue, Tems's family.

It's those seats that Tems hustles me to, up far too many stairs to climb, going as fast as we are. I'm a bit out of breath when we reach the top and turn around, and the view at the top steals the last of the air from my lungs.

The ceiling curves farther upward, with openings all along the transom at eye level. Windows large enough for a fully-armed warrior to walk through line the white marble facade, the thin glass making the grey sky beyond warp and warble in front of my eyes. It looks breakable, and I wonder if Falx will crash through the glass.

Tems kisses the shell of my ear, murmuring too softly to be overheard, "he will walk through the doors, sweetheart." The emperor approaches his throne, his beady eyes staring at me. Tems, in a louder voice, remarks, "The deepest blood in a Tasuri vein is purple. Blue are the veins just under our skin."