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Lukas does not resist as two guards unlock the chains on his ankles and neck and bring him forward, wrists still roped.

A block is brought onto the stage. Lukas is pushed to his knees. One of the guards coaxes back Lukas’s dark curls almost tenderly, baring his neck.

Jemel hears a sound. He glances over to Inez on her throne. The dog on her lap is growling. Inez is holding the animal tightly, her fingers white.

Atticul begins talking about Lukas’s crime. The murder of Emperor Selim. Much of the facts are known although he makes no mention of Trysta. Perhaps this spectacle will persuade people not to ask what happened to Lukas’s accomplice. Jemel wonders for the first time where Trysta is now. He hopes she got away. Xan told him that she had.

But can he trust anything Xan said to him in the library? Or ever?

Jemel rocks on the bench.

“But, of course, Lukas Darekul did not work alone. Like the time he attempted this cowardly murder five years ago, he was aided by his brother. The exiled luxorite Damon Darekul, who I have discovered did not die on Sanvicta, but escaped with his Juran whore lover to meet up with Lukas and my father’s other bastards, Tobi Darekul and Kerik Darekul to plot their treason to take the throne for themselves.”

This, unsurprisingly, gets gasps. The fact that Damon Darekul lives has been popular gossip for sometime, ever since Atticul had claimed so at his meeting of the Rose Council. But this is the first time it has been declared to the people.

Someone on the balcony stands up and calls out, “Long Live Emperor Damon.” There is laughter, a scuffle. Someone is hauled away by a pair of guards. Perhaps it was the man who shouted. Jemel cannot tell.

Gelen stands up and demands order. When the crowds on the balcony quiet down, Atticul says, “Traitor, do you have anything to say?”

Lukas snarls into the death bridle.

“Apologies,” Atticul says, as obsequious as if he is entertaining dignitaries at court. He signals to one of the guards who steps forward and unbuckles the strap at the back of Lukas’s head. The padded leather drops away.

Lukas spits, then turns his head and shouts. “Death to Emperor Atticul!”

At this there is a wild cheer from the balcony.

This is growing dangerous, Jemel thinks. How will this end other than in a riot?

But Atticul doesn’t seem to mind. He walks across the stage to a page and takes from him a sword with a blade that glows an eerie blue. “I have your weapon here, traitor," he says. “The one you thrust into my uncle while he was at prayer. Along with that filthy hook you wear. “ He walks back to Lukas as he speaks. “Perhaps I should duel you with it? Or should I just carve out your guts.” He pokes Lukas in the side, causing enough of a wound that blood seeps out after it, staining Lukas’s shirt. Lukas gasps in pain as Atticul says, “Have you bleed your life away in front of me?”

Again someone calls out, “Long Live Emperor Damon!”

Atticul lifts his eyes to the balcony. “Emperor Damon, really?” he drawls. “Perhaps he is amongst you. Here to rescue his hopeless brother once more. Damon, are you there?”

Atticul looks up at the raucous balcony. He raises a hand to his brow like a sailor scanning the skyline. Some people laugh but the mood is still horribly tense.

He turns back to Lukas, still kneeling over the block. “Where is he, traitor? Where is Damon Darekul?”

Lukas lifts his head off the block, sits back and laughs. “Where do you think?”

A man stands up. Not from the balcony, but right in the centre of the floor. Amongst the dignitaries. He wears a long hooded cloak. He throws off the hood and pulls the Amber Blade from his belt.

“Brothers, you think I’d miss this?” says Damon Darekul.

Jemel stares at the face of the brother he has not seen for more than a year and his head spins. He feels blackness rush at him as he passes out.

27

DAMON

There are guards, of course and a lot of them. But he is too fast, too strong, too fixed on his goal. He does not look back.

Damon is a fighter, a great fighter with a sword that has borne him through battle after battle.

But he does not fight. He races forward towards one goal.

No one expected an attack to come from the rows of seated dignitaries where all are invited and none have arms. No one is prepared for this. Damon is across the temple before any hand touches him.