"Now," said Borla testily, with no small degree of impatience. "For the
last time; what is thy name, girl?"
Si'Wren stood immobile as she regarded the edge of the gleaming sword
which Borla held up just beneath her chin at the throat, and slowly
shook her head.
"Very well," said Borla, as he withdrew the sword and held it up for
the death stroke. "His Majesty can be quite reasonable at times. You've
obviously chosen to die for your insolence, and it is His pleasure to
grant you your wish..."
"Withhold thy hand," said Emperor Euphrates suddenly.
Borla hesitated, his arm tensed for the downswing, and regarded his
Emperor in a look of self-evident deference.
"As you wish, Highness," said Borla, as he bowed low and handed the
sword back to the underling again. "What is thy pleasure, Sire? Name
it, and I shall not hesitate..."
"Bring her to me," said Emperor Euphrates.
The Emperor's words echoed throughout the absolute, dead silence of the
throne room as a thousand spectators looked on in shocked horror, and
Si'Wren gasped involuntarily as Borla's heavy hand dropped firmly onto
her slender shoulder, filling her pounding heart with sudden dread.
Escorted forward, Si'Wren kept her eyes dutifully lowered as she sought
not to behold her Emperor, whom she had never ever seen before in her
whole short life, let alone heard the remotest details of the daily
existence of.
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