At last Theodorian understood why Fornulus had taken to drink, even if it was about to kill him. Her family was devastated – half of them dead, and Fornulus and Nikolonium soon to join them. In a matter of days there would only be her and her two youngest siblings left.

She'd only been able to stand by as the Kolonai screamed for Nikolonium's blood to a barely coherent Fornulus. He’d been reluctant to have his own brother executed, which Theo loved him for, but in the end he could only delay the inevitable. There was no saving Nikolonium now: even if he wasn’t executed her own family would assassinate him in revenge for her brother. Fornulus was too weak of a Doukar to stand up to them, and she couldn't bring herself to fight for Nikolonium either, not to the Kolonai or to her family. Every time she thought about trying to defend him, she would remember playing with Cordelian when they were both children, and what a happy little boy he'd been.

Pelagius had had a somber expression on his face during the meeting to decide Nikolonium's fate, and withdrew into his shell during the discussion, rarely saying anything. Theodorian and Pelagius, as Mekos and Milem respectively, should have taken the lead during the meeting, but both were paralyzed by shock and grief. She'd been in the room with him when the news of Ophelion's and Cordelian's deaths had arrived, and for once her usually controlled youngest brother had seemed truly shocked and grief-stricken. He'd slumped down into his chair with his head in his hands and not looked up for a long time. Theo had wept openly, and she wasn't the only one at the court to do so.

A couple of days after the…deaths, Theo decided to visit Helastus, her last surviving sister, who had remained shut in her chambers after Ophelion's death. She was ashamed when she realized how long it had been since she'd last gone to see the girl.

Helastus was in her chambers, intently reading a scroll, but set it aside when Theo was introduced, and quickly had her elder sister seated and given some honeyed tea.

"How are you Helastus?” She asked after finishing the greetings. “I know Ophelion's death was hard on you – as it was on us all."

Helastus looked calm, Theo thought. But the girl was never expressive even at the best of times.

The two of them weren’t close. There was eighteen years between them – Theodorian had been two years older than Helastus was now when the younger girl had been born. Their personalities matched well, however, as they both kept to themselves while the more gregarious siblings around them took the lead. Had taken the lead.

Helastus bowed her head over her tea. "Yes, it was hard. For you too, with Cordelian."

Neither of them said anything for a few moments. There was a soft whine, and a cat jumped onto the sofa next to Helastus. Theo recognized it as Meronion's cat.

"What's going to happen to Nik?" Helastus asked her, absently petting the cat, which curled up next to her.

"Pelagius didn't tell you?"

"He's busy organizing everything. We haven’t spoken in a while."

Theo frowned slightly. It was unusual for the two of them to not be talking to each other. "Nikolonium is going to be executed."

"I see."

"It's the only punishment possible for someone who sheds the blood of Doukar without justification, especially that of the Eukrates. Even if he is the blood of Doukar himself."

"Of course."

Theo sighed. "I don't know how to feel about it."

"I understand. Cordelian was your full brother." Theo was surprised the girl wasn't fighting for Nikolonium’s life to be spared. Helastus and Nikolonium had been close, she thought.

"Soon it will be just the three of us,” she continued after Helastus said nothing more. “Fornulus is dying."

"I know. It's taken quite a while."

The callousness of her response took Theo aback.

"I know you're not close to him, but don't you care at all?"

Helastus looked up at her with her head still lowered. Her gaze in that position made Theo think of a snake.

"I know why you care so much, Theodorian. You’d avoid quite the dilemma if Fornulus can only live a little longer."

"What do you mean?" Theo frowned.

Helastus continued. "Fornulus has no children anymore, so you are the Mekos. But that’s a problem, isn’t it?"

"Because I'm barren," she said bitterly.

"Exactly. If Nik dies before Fornulus, you'll be the Doukar, because who else will there be? But years from now, when you die, there will be several possible heirs to the crowns. That could mean war. But if Fornulus dies first, well, the patros might rethink their position on Nik. At the very least, the church will have its say. None of them want another succession crisis."

Theo nodded slowly. "You're saying they would pardon him, make him Doukar?"

"The patros can't pardon him. You'd have to decide. To rule and send your brother to his death, or stand aside and let him rule for the good of the nation. If you don't, you might be another Sabrius, and another Zecorates might follow too," Helastus said, referencing the succession crisis which gave rise to the worst tyrant in the empire's history.

"But then Nikolonium would be rewarded for killing Cordelian!" Theo said. She didn't know what to think anymore.

"True, and the patros would have a hard time with it," Helastus said. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard Helastus speak so much before. "But is there an alternative?"

Theo chewed her lip as she thought it over. She didn’t want to be responsible for either outcome. But what choice did she have? No wait, despite what Helastus said, there was another choice, she could…

She realized what conclusion Helastus wanted her to come to. And suddenly, the truth came to her, bright and clear in its horror, the truth of everything that had happened since her father had died, a truth she never wanted. All the half-noticed looks and overheard snatches of conversation fell into place. The secret, inchoate suspicions, festering inside her for some time now, given form at last. Theo felt like screaming or weeping, but of course she couldn't. She could prove nothing, couldn't even justify it to herself, but she knew. Poor Cordelian, had he ever realized the truth? Or Nikolonium, did he have any idea?

Her tea tasted sour in her mouth, and she tried to tell herself it was just her imagination. She wanted to spit it out. She had to get out of here. She made her excuses, feigning illness, and rushed out as Helastus asked after her in a concerned tone. She felt like Helastus saw right through her. She couldn't take the crowns, no, she had to get away from the palace. She would abdicate. It was too late for her to do anything else.

Fornulus's thoughts grew hazy now, and he was often confused by what the others were doing. He lay supine in his bed while people bustled around, coming and go at such a speed that he totally lost track of them.

"Where's Cordelian?" He asked. He heard whispers around him.

"Cordelian is not here, but I am, brother." Fornulus struggled to focus on that voice, only vaguely recognizing the speaker, a tall young man.

"It's Pelagius, your faithful Milem."

"Wasn't Meronion my Milem?" Fornulus was getting confused again.

"Meronion is dead. Cordelian is dead. Do try to remember, brother." The young man, Pelagius, patted his shoulder with a gentle expression.

A man Fornulus didn't recognize leant over him and started talking.

"Your Exaltedness, the church insists that you reconsider the case of your younger brother, Prince Nikolonium. Surely the great crimes of Prince Cordelian constitute extenuating circumstances. Execution is unavoidable but extirpation is too severe a penalty." The man kept talking, but Fornulus couldn't make heads nor tails of it.

Fornulus sank back in his bed in fright. Who was this person, and what did he want?

"The Former Fourth Empress Sophitia has official denounced her son Prince Nikolonium, and begs Your Exaltedness for clemency..."

"The Doukar needs air," Pelagius said, herding the man back while talking quietly to him. The other man didn’t seem interested though and pushed Pelagius away.

He pulled weakly at his brother's black robe. "Send them all away."

Pelagius nodded, and ordered all of them out, until it was just them and the servants and guards.

"Nikolonium, where's Cordelian?"

"I'm Pelagius, Nikolonium is imprisoned. He killed Cordelian. Do you want to order the execution?"

Fornulus frowned. "I don't understand. Who killed Cordelian? He can't be dead, he's the Eukrates."

Pelagius tried to soothe him. "It's not important. Just rest for now. You'll feel better after some sleep."

"I am very tired."

"Of course, you are, you've had a busy day, a trying time for all of us. Don't worry about any of it, I'll take care of everything."

Fornulus nodded. "Good. Make sure you find Cordelian and tell him what needs to be done. He always knows what to do."

"I will. Just rest for now."

Fornulus slid back into a doze, dreaming of his dead wife and sons.

Nikolonium, once the fourth prince of this great empire, sat in chains on a bare stone floor in a dark and featureless room. This was what he'd come to, a room without even a window. It turned out that even a prince couldn't do whatever he wanted. He'd been here for several days now, awaiting the order from Fornulus that would end his life. It was hard to say what was delaying it; perhaps Fornulus didn’t want to kill a member of his family. Or perhaps Pelagius and the church were kicking up enough of a fuss to hinder Cordelian's allies from taking their revenge.

It wasn't even a proper cell; there weren't any cells in the Trigon Palace. When they'd brought him here, he'd had to stand waiting while they emptied boxes out of the room. Back before Doukar Trigon had rebuilt the whole complex, Zecorates had imprisoned most of the royal family, so there must have been some in the old palace, but no one knew now where they had been. Justice in the empire was swift: if you were a noumens you went before the magistrates to plead your case, and sentences would be given right away, whether death, exile to some province, corporal punishment, a fine, and so on. If you were a patros, the Kolonai or Doukar would decide your sentence likewise. If the condemned fled, then the Decim would send out guards to retrieve them. Either way, there was no need to lock people in cells. Imprisoning people was something the Circinaids did, drawing out the criminal's suffering for their own sick pleasure. It really was a barbaric practice. Nik knew that first hand now.

He couldn't say that he didn't have regrets, in fact he had nothing but regrets. But he was resigned to his imminent death. He'd removed the cancer from the empire, avenged his beloved, and would soon be with her at Oma's side. Without Cordelian leading it, the empire was safe. It was a far better outcome for the empire than if Cordelian had won.

He heard steps echoing down the corridor towards him, getting closer and closer. He could make out the sounds of jangling jewelry, which meant he had an important visitor. What it his mother? He'd barely seen her since she'd begun her life as imperial widow, but he'd been desperately waiting for her to visit him the whole time he'd been in here.

When the door swung open it was to reveal his youngest brother, Pelagius. Nik was happy to see any familiar face.

Pelagius stepped into the cell and waved the guard out, only leaving a female strigulos with him. Nik recognized her as the pretty one he’d seen before. She must be Pel’s favorite; he always seemed to have her with him. Pelagius was in his bulky formal black and silver robes. He wore them often nowadays, due to his ascension to Milem.

Pel looked down at him disapprovingly.

"How are you?" He asked Nik.

"Why, I am wonderful Pel, as you can see." Nik laughed darkly. "Come to tell me off for being reckless?"

"Do you know what they're pushing Fornulus to do out there?"

"I assume you mean Cordelian's allies?" Pel nodded. "I imagine they want to see me dead."

"Of course, but they're also pushing for extirpation."

Nik leapt up. "What?! They can't do that!"

Extirpation meant not just his death, but the death of his whole family, and the removal of all their names from official records. It was the punishment for people the Empire wished to forget ever existed. The records would be changed to state that Holophian had only four wives, and only nine children to live beyond infanthood.

"You killed the Eukrates, the second prince, your own brother, in front of a dozen witnesses of impeccable character. It's no normal crime." Pel said as he moved around the small room examining it.

"So, my family will be killed."

"Your uncle has already renounced you. That should help."

Nik sat back down heavily, slumping against the cold stone wall. It didn't make him happy to learn his mother's family had abandoned him, but in so doing they had saved themselves. He couldn't blame them. It was his mother that worried him. A mere denunciation wouldn't be enough to save her life. You couldn’t wipe away the existence of a prince if his mother was still around.

No wonder she hadn't been to visit him. She needed to put all the distance between them she could. "How's my mother?" He asked.

"She's, well, I'm sure you can imagine," Pel said.

"Yes." Nik hung his head. What kind of son was he who might end up having his own mother killed? That possibility hadn't even occurred to him in his rage. It also meant that he would never see his mother again, not even one last time before he died.

Pel smiled sympathetically, before glancing around the cell. He slammed his fist on the door, and the guard opened it again.

"These chambers are unacceptable. You will move my brother to a cell more suitable for his rank." Pel said haughtily.

The guard tried to argue but Pelagius was immovable. Finally he told the guard to see to it right away, and the man moved off, grumbling the whole time.

Once the man's footsteps had faded, Pelagius sent his woman out to fetch him the rough guard's stool from outside. He set it down next to Nikolonium and sat down. So, whatever he had to say he wanted to keep private. Nik waited expectantly.

"What did you want me and not that guard to hear?"

"Fornulus is dying."

Nik shrugged. "He's been dying for some time now."

"No, I mean he's really dying. He has a few days left at most."

Nik blew out his breath and slumped back against the wall. "So, we'll be the only two princes left. For a few days anyway, and then you'll be the only one. Theodorian will be Doukar. Who saw that coming?"

"Well," Pel gave him a sidelong look. "Perhaps not."

Nik frowned. He wasn't in the mood for subtle. "What do you mean?"

Pel leaned in closer. "You and I both know that Theodorian has no interest in being Doukar. Let's say I can convince her to abdicate, to give up her claim to the crowns. Nik, you're next in line after her. You’d hardly be the first Doukar to prune the family tree a bit, and they can't very well execute their new Doukar, can they?"

Suddenly Nik felt hope blooming in him. "Are you serious?"

"Of course. You'll be able to save yourself and your mother."

"Pel, you...I don't know what to say. Even in this situation, you're helping me. I thought you might hate me after Cordelian."

Pel shook his head firmly. "You know I loved Ophelion almost as much as you. If you hadn't done it, I think perhaps I might have."

Nik grabbed Pel's arm. It felt so good to have an ally here, to not be alone. "Thanks Pel." He almost whispered.

"Don't thank me, I haven't gotten you out of here yet. Fornulus is helping – he knows he's dying, and he doesn't want his last act to be putting his brother to death. Lots of people are pushing him into having you killed, but who knew, at the end he's finally found his spine."

"Poor Fornulus. He didn't deserve any of this."

"No, he didn't," Pel agreed. "His only crime was being weak. In a normal family he would have been a good family man."

There was a somber moment before Nik started to laugh. "No, he wouldn't! He'd have been the town drunk and probably have Vicca screaming at him in the streets about not having a job and groping the local maidens."

Pel started to laugh despite himself too, and the two youngest brothers shared a brief moment of light-heartedness. It felt good to laugh, even about such a thing. If he got out of here, he'd have to find new things to laugh about, after losing so much.

Once they’d calmed down, Pel continued. "I actually need you to do something for me."

"I can’t imagine what I could do for you, given my current situation."

"Write me some letters of introduction to the church fathers. I need their help if I'm to convince the patros to accept you as Doukar. For some reason I'm not very popular with the church, so none of them will meet with me. I've been trying to get them to petition Fornulus for clemency on your behalf, but they don't want to deal with me."

Nik affectionally nudged Pel with his elbow. "That's because you sleep around and never come to a service."

"But it's so boring," Pel whined. “And the seats are too hard.”

"My brother the heathen. And to think you're what I've got left." Nik sighed, but lightly. Pel had succeeded in lifting his mood.

Pel smiled. "Anyway, write me a glowing reference that will win the old geezers over. Talk about what a pious boy I am and all that sort of rot."

"I wonder if they even want to hear from me."

Pel nodded. "They will. They might not have been arguing for you yet, but they hated Cordelian. I’ve heard mutterings of Oma working through you to uproot sin, that kind of thing."

"It's good to know I still have allies out there. And in here, with you." His gloom was lifting for the first time since Ophie's death, in fact. No, he couldn't think about her now. That wound hadn't even begun to heal.

"I mean you'll probably have to bathe in that fancy prayer water or eat that weird cake thing they give you to be forgiven," Pel joked, "but still, they'll want you back. Without you, they're going to be shut out of the palace. Once they realize they could have one of their own as Doukar, they'll stop at nothing to help you."

"Alright, get me some paper, or even a sherd, and a pen and I'll write some letters for you."

"I don't think they'll let you have a pen in here, I mean, you've already shown what you can do with a stylus." Pel said with a degree of ironic detachment.

Nik shifted uncomfortably at the direct reference to his darkest moment, as Pel thought for a moment.

"Perhaps you could set your personal seal on some blank scrolls, and then tell me what to write. I'll fill in the letter for you. Assuming you trust me, of course," Pel said.

"I suppose that would be fine. Although why not write the letter, bring it to me, and then have me seal it?" he asked.

"They won't let me bring documents to you. We could be plotting the overthrow of the empire. You're a dangerous influence, don't you know? Although I think they just want to punish you by making sure you can't read those holy liturgies you like."

Nik rubbed his temples. "Cordelian's allies are as noxious as him."

"The Kolonai can't possibly object to my bringing blank scrolls here, or your seal, even if they think it’s absurd. Anyway, it's easier this way, you can put the seal on several scrolls all at once and then I'll take quick notes of the general sort of thing you want to say, and then have a slave write them up in fancier language. They love that sort of thing in the church, but it would be boring to have you dictate it word for word."

"I guess that makes sense." Nik lost himself in daydreams for a moment. Him, the Doukar. He was so far down the line of succession he'd never seriously thought about it. All the dreams he could make a reality. Just an hour ago he'd expected nothing but death.

Pel spoke with him for a few moments more before getting up. He said he didn't want to leave Fornulus alone with the vultures too long, in case he cracked and did order the execution.

Just as he left the cell Nik called after him.

"Pel, thank you. You truly are a loyal brother."

Pel just smiled, looking a little abashed. "Just keep your spirits up eldest brother. I'll get you out of there."

After the cell door was closed and the guard had returned, saying that he could be moved to a better room tomorrow, Nik finally cried for his lost love, his mother, and himself.