"Long live the Emperor," Heena replied, offering a flawless, shallow bow of her head. She sheathed her short sword with a sharp, metallic clack.
"Leave this place, Lady Seera," the Emperor commanded, turning his back to her and walking slowly toward the empty, blood-splattered golden thrones. "Go home. I will handle the ashes."
Heena did not need to be told twice.
She turned and walked down the marble steps of the dais, her crimson skirt sweeping over the bodies of the dead. The heavy cedar doors of the pavilion were unbarred by the surviving Vanguard elites, pulling open to reveal the cool, sharp night air of the capital.
As Heena crossed the threshold and stepped out into the dark courtyard, the cool wind hit her flushed face.
