CHAPTER FIVE
From the steps of the Masked Goddess’s temple, standing poised at their summit as he waited for the start of his mother’s funeral, Rupert watched the sunset. It spread in shades of red, hues that reminded him too much of the blood he’d shed. It shouldn’t bother him. He was stronger than that, better than that. Even so, every look down at his hands brought with it memories of the way his mother’s blood had stained them, every moment of silence brought back the memory of her gasps as he’d stabbed her.
“You!” Rupert said, pointing to one of the augers and minor priests who crowded around the entrance. “What does this sunset portend?”
“Blood, your highness. A sunset like this means blood.”
Rupert took a half step forward, planning to strike the man for his insolence, but Angel
