The Seat went silent, the golden hum draining out of it like blood from one long slow cut. Didi stood among the broken stairs with her greatsword trailing frost, staring at the man on his knees.
Ruvan knelt in the wreckage with his armour gone, hair stuck to his forehead, both hands open on his thighs.
He looked like the boy who used to carry her up the palace stairs, only older and more tired.
'He's crying. The Prince-God is crying. Of course he is, he never could do anything quietly.'
"Brother," she said.
"Little sister," he said, and smiled the crooked smile from her childhood. "Look at what I have made of myself."
"You made a god out of a ladder," she said, her sword arm trembling.
"You told me stairs were a bad idea when you were six, I should have listened," he said.
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