She had built this Empire from the ashes of the Soreth's tyranny; it was hers by right of creation, and therefore hers by right of unmaking.
If it could not exist under her hand, it would not exist at all. It was her prerogative. Her legacy. Her final lesson to the son who thought he could outgrow his shadow.
Around her, the world was ending in the way empires always do: with a frantic, senseless noise. The wave of panic had broken the final barriers of courtly decorum. Every Duke was on his feet. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, expensive wool, and the metallic tang of terror.
"Who ordered these seizures?" Duke Aldren screamed, his face a mottled purple. "Where were the provincial commanders? Why was the capital silent?"
"My border is undefended!" Konstantin's voice tore through the din, desperate and shrill. "I need to leave now! My house is being put to the sword while I sit here in this theater of the absurd!"
