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Summary
In the moments that it took the new emperor to slide his sword out from the corpse of his brother, Tanju came to the only possible decision. He threw himself onto the ground and prostrated himself—knees, elbows, forehead all desperately kissing the cool marble—even as he cried into it, "Long live the emperor!"
Ardashir's boots came into view first, then the tip of his sword, held loosely at his side, dripping a trail of blood behind him. When he stopped walking, the drips began to gather into a pool. "You wish me to live long?"
~
In the aftermath of a bloody coup, the emperor's consort finds himself desperate to stay alive. His body and his magic are all he has to offer, for the one who possesses these will also possess the throne.