High Advisor Phillip Cornelium's eyes were rabbit's eyes. Dull, watery, skittish. The eyes of prey. And the more he waffled on, the more Asha found himself entertaining the notion of leaping across the table, pinning the old goat by his neck, and squeezing until those repellent little eyes bulged from their sockets.

Asha tilted his head, met Cornelium's gaze straight-on, and the latter's gaze predictably darted back down to the sprawling map between them.

"… so as you see, Your Grace, the kingdom still flourishes. The holy light of the Divine Heirs' rule continues to bless the lands and the people of Iridesca." The advisor cleared his throat, then straightened up with hands clasped behind him to await his master's response.

Asha lifted his chin from the hand he'd been resting it on, then yawned. "How long have you served me, Cornelium?"

"This is the sixth year, Your Grace."

"Is that all? With how you ramble on, I'd have thought closer to fifty."

The advisor's face, once regal and comely in earlier years, hung in gaunt folds beneath a feathery crown of white wisps. His expression remained stiffly impassive.

Phillip Cornelium had long cultivated an impermeable austerity that layered his every word and action. The pinnacle of self-possession and dignity, even in the company of the Divine Heirs. He'd never groveled, simpered, or grasped for favor. In his first few months as High Advisor following his predecessor's death, such was his stony countenance that even Asha's interest was piqued; at last, a human who wouldn't bend like a tender sapling in his presence.

It was therefore all the more aggravating that Phillip Cornelium's eyes ultimately betrayed him.

Asha flicked his hand, and the High Advisor began to roll up the map.

"You hold loyalty in high esteem, do you not?" Asha said.

"Indeed, Your Grace. The most noble of virtues."

"Then the act of lying, of spinning falsehoods to whom you've pledged loyalty to would be the most heinous of transgressions?"

Cornelium looked up, his white brows knitted together. "I'm afraid I do not follow, Your Grace."

"What manner of punishment do you believe would suit the crime, sir?" Asha leaned forward, smiling beatifically. "Go on, exercise that shriveled-up imagination of yours."

The man's lips thinned into nonexistence. "No less than execution, I'd say. A public one, to set an example."

Asha nodded in thoughtful agreement. "I see. Well, I'd at least do you the mercy of choosing the manner of yours."

Cornelium's rabbit eyes widened a little. "Your Grace?"

"How is it that I hear of droughts and plagues from whispers amongst the Citadel servants while my own advisor reports nothing of the sort?" Asha said lightly. "How do you reconcile such dishonesty with the values you claim to hold most dear?"

Cornelium swallowed, but held fast. "Should a lion concern himself with the affairs of the insects beneath his feet?"

Asha raised his eyebrows.

"Then neither would I presume to insult your standing with petty affairs. On the whole, the kingdom is--"

"My standing!" Asha burst from his seat, and the advisor hopped back a step. "Like that of an ornamental jewel perched atop a staff. Leave the petty affairs of Iridesca to you and your Council of accomplices! How many of you are conspiring behind my back? Against my sisters?"

Naked fear danced frantically in Cornelium's eyes. Disappointing.

The advisor sank to his knees and pressed his forehead into the marble, exposing his age-spotted bald patch. Asha's lip curled in contempt.

"Your Grace, I beg of you--"

"Worry not, I'm not so ruthless as to execute you, Phillip. Do you wish to hear how you'll atone instead?"

"Yes, my king, whatever you--"

"Strip down."

Cornelium froze. He even risked an upward glance to confirm he'd heard correctly.

"Divest yourself of your garments," Asha repeated. The blood-hued diamond at his throat, finely tuned to even his mildest intention, sent strands of warm power through his veins. He lifted his hand, palm open, and a red-hot corona bloomed at its center. A miniature sun of his own making.

"A burn over your heart, where traitorous intent festers. Your throat, where lies are molded and set free. And between your legs." He narrowed his eyes. "To reinforce the lesson."

Cornelium rose laboriously to his feet, joints cracking in a distinctively repulsive way. "Your Grace, you can't possibly…"

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Is it death you'd prefer, then?"

The old man's lower lip trembled. After an eternity of agonized deliberation, his hand inched toward the clasp of his collar.

Asha's sudden bark of laughter burst through the air like a thunderclap, and Cornelium jumped.

"Goddess, you were truly going to do it!" he guffawed, clutching the back of his chair for support. He swept a hand across his watering eyes. "Trust me, Phillip, there are few things in this world I wish to see less than your desiccated old carcass."

Cornelium's lip was trembling entirely out of anger now. "Most amusing, Your Grace," he said tightly.

"Come now, have a laugh for once. If you'd seen your expression…" Asha dropped back into his seat, his laughter fading to light chuckles.

The High Advisor remained rooted to the spot. It was all over his shriveled face that he suspected, despite appearances, that his exoneration was far from certain.

"I was Named Asha, the Divine Heir of Fire, when your grandparents were still soiling themselves," he said in a more serious tone. "You're merely carrying on the methods of your predecessors. The Blessed Ones are living vessels of divinity, the holy spirit of Iridesca, and we are not to be burdened by petty affairs, as you so aptly put it."

Cornelium's shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "May I be dismissed, Your Grace?" he said stiffly.

"Certainly. In fact, take the day. Are you the one with the two daughters?"

"I have a son."

"Go on, visit him." Asha spread his hands. "Life is short for your kind, Phillip. The occasional bask is good for the spirit."

Cornelium's exiting bow was quick and perfunctory, just barely low enough to qualify.

Asha's grin faded completely upon the advisor's departure, and he stood and began to pace the cavernous halls of his chambers.

He briefly considered summoning his new courtesans, Elara and Saman. They'd serve as an adequate distraction, but lately the mere thought of their company had begun to turn his stomach. Theirs was the company of empty flesh puppets, slavishly obedient regardless of the distress screaming from their helpless doe's eyes. Whatever you wish, Your Grace. By all means, Your Grace. If it pleases Your Grace…

Asha clenched his fists and relished the pain of his nails digging in. That which could match a Divine Heir, in any capacity, was nearly impossible to come by. Even Phillip, his most promising candidate, had wilted like wet parchment.

One qualifying entity remained. Just one.

How did it come to the two of us, sister? Rava forsook his place here, and Rhea…

He swallowed down the venomous fury that surged up his throat.

*

Asha felt the pulsing of the diamonds long before he saw them, nudging gently against his senses like warm, buzzing insects. Once the narrow stairway opened outward to the underground expanse of the Vault, their murmurings became clearer, more defined.

The Vault's vertiginous ceiling vanished up into the murky darkness, though the breadth of the stone cavern was no wider across than the Citadel's throne room. At the Vault's center lay a deep, circular moat filled near-brimming with diamonds of every kind--countless generations' worth of labor on behalf of the Divine Heirs.

The last remnant of what this place had once been, at least according to the Scholars, was a naked and long-calcified tree behind the bounds of the moat. Its trunk was as wide as five men standing abreast, its empty, yearning branches reaching more than a hundred feet at their highest point.

The discovery of this cavern, once green and lush despite the complete absence of sunlight, had preceded both the Citadel and Crystallinus itself. Indeed, it'd served as the key determinant of their conception; where better to build the heart of one's new kingdom than atop a holy miracle?

Ayo stood in the central island with one hand on the tree's gray, stony surface, her back to Asha. Clad in her usual white garments, with her fine hair streaming freely down her back, she seemed a delicate, luminous wraith amongst the gloom. The gentle glow of the white diamonds in the moat--those that resonated with her Axis--provided a sufficient, if eerie, source of light.

"Greetings, brother," she said without turning. Her cold, brittle voice cut through the damp air like a lance.

"I thought I'd find you here," Asha called. He strode toward her.

Ayo inhaled, delicate shoulders rising, and every diamond in the moat simultaneously brightened and dimmed in perfect tandem with her breath. Asha stopped in his tracks.

His sister turned. "As I told you, I've been hard at work these past years."

Asha forced a laugh. "You've certainly ensured that we'd be powerless to stop you. Perhaps Rhea and I should be grateful that you didn't wait until Ascension Day to reveal your plans."

"Rhea did not take it as well as you did," Ayo said, and dropped her hand. Her eyes were distant. "She was always the sentimental one."

"Yes, she is."

Ayo regarded him with pity and disdain. "We both know the truth, Asha. As surely as the Goddess' blessing flows in our veins, the Rhea we know has left this earth."

Again, that bile-like rage threatened to overwhelm him. His answering grin was twisted and bitter. "So she's dead. What of it?"

"Better grief than denial."

"Grief for what?" he spat. "The utter waste of her existence? That Eris' blessing was squandered on an ungrateful, weepy little brat--"

"Control yourself," Ayo said sharply. "This behavior is unbecoming of your station."

"If she cared naught for it, why should I? She cast it all aside so as to perish alone in the wilderness like some common vagrant."

Ayo's icy gaze sharpened. Asha's heart leapt in anticipation.

"I pity you, Asha."

"Oh?"

"Desperately grasping at empty vices, provoking and lashing out at those around you like a vicious child. Perpetually fleeing the solitude of your own company, for that is a far harsher torment than the fear and revulsion you've gleefully instilled in others." Syrupy compassion welled up in her eyes. "It seems that not even Blessed Ones are exempt from this wretched world's corruption. If I can find some way to enlighten you as well, brother, I will."

Asha could probably afford one good blow before the combined energy of every diamond in the Vault, by now finely-attuned to Ayo's will, blasted him to pieces. A solid strike that knocked her to the ground like the frail thing she was, blackening that smooth, haughty face. It'd almost be worth the smiting.

Unperturbed, Ayo crossed the simple wooden bridge, stepped toward him, and reached up to caress his cheek with one small, cold hand. "The kingdom as you know it will soon cease to exist, so why not arrange a grand sendoff? It will occupy you until the Day comes."

"An empty diversion for a vicious child?"

"Precisely. Now leave me be." Ayo turned away and took another deep breath. The endless oceans of gemstones around them pulsed as one, in perfect congruence with their master.

*

The innumerable steps back up to the Citadel were far more tiresome than before. After all, Asha was returning to the familiar, to the expected.

But a new spark had kindled for him now, loathe as he was to credit Ayo for anything. At least in this, she was right: he needed a diversion. Something bracing and hot-blooded that would burn away the cloying webs of discontent and restlessness crowding up his mind.

A possibility then emerged, as if it'd been waiting in the wings all along. King Asha grinned in anticipation.