I sat in the council room, sleep sitting heavy behind my eyes. The candidates filled the room; Garrett and Bir stood to my right side.
I tried not to even blink. Every time I closed my eyes, I didn’t like what I saw. Flashes of moments that weren’t mine to see kept trying to take over my mind.
I clenched the arm of the throne. My heart felt like it might fall through the chair.
Lyrian, it isn’t me. I wasn't there when it happened. Kathera tried to soothe me, but I couldn’t help the pang that took over my heart.
It isn’t Kathera. I told myself. What is happening with Sahora and Oliver has nothing to do with Kathera. I tried to push the images away.
If you aren’t present, then why am I seeing it through the bond? I asked her.
Silence for a moment. I’m not sure; try to not focus on them. Focus on our Empire and us.
I can do that; it would just be easier if you were here. I told her, feeling her own longing through the bond.
I will be there soon. She seemed to hum the words as her voice faded from my mind.
“Sire, may we introduce “Hyth Higgensby.”
A tall man walked into the council room, his arms tucked tightly behind his back.
He bowed deeply and then met my eyes. “I wish to serve the Empire, Sire.”
I looked at him, his arms never leaving his back.
I rose from the throne, walked down to his level, and began to walk around him.
He simply held his hands together.
Hmmm. Something about the way he stood, as if waiting for an order. Waiting for his next command.
I walked and stood in front of him.
His wide eyes met mine.
“For you to serve the Empire, you must be willing to use your hands. Let me see them.” I demanded.
He put out his hands, and they shook as I looked them over.
No callouses, no dirt under fingernails.
No evidence of using a sword or a bow.
Another councilman who would expect someone else’s hands to do the work.
I met his eyes again. “Your hands are too clean. You’re dismissed.” I said simply.
“Too clean, Sire?” He asked, confused.
I walked back to the throne on the dais and sat. “I have grown wary of councilmen without callouses on their hands and dirt under their nails. Even more so of councilmen who have never wielded a weapon.” He stiffened at my words.
I leaned forward, putting my elbow on my knee.
“You must be willing to do the work. You are not willing. Dismissed.” I sat back on the throne as the guards escorted him out. \