The golden leash sat closed around the neck of THE True Human Emperor.
And beside him, his clone trembled.
The crowned manifestation of blood shuddered once in the crossing-dark as its crimson gold light guttered and dimmed, and then it came apart, seemingly starved of everything that had sustained it, scattering into fading motes that dimmed and went out between one breath and the next!
Gone. As though the band at his throat had reached through him and unmade even the works of his blood!
Yrsa watched the motes fade.
Then she floated over to him, unhurried, and took his hand in hers, and with the casual efficiency of a clerk testing a seal... she broke his finger.
CRACK!
