May 25: "if the gods must take, she thought, let them take all," feat. Kalasin Tasikhe.

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The parchment stared her in the face, all crisp white, curled at the edges, with ornate black writing that she wouldn't have understood five and a half years earlier. She understands it now, of course, but wishes that she didn't.

For the first time in a long while, Kalasin wishes that she were a fourteen-year-old again. That she didn't have to do this. That she could lean on Ozorne, let him make the decisions, trust him to do what was right for her.

The eldest councilor clears his throat softly, and his gnarled hand rests on the top of the parchment. "Lady Kalasin."

She looks down at the floor, refusing to acknowledge the address.

"Lady Kalasin, do you understand the contents of this document?"

She nods stiffly.

"By signing here, you agree that your marriage with the former Emperor of Carthak, Ozorne Tasikhe, is annulled. You will no longer be Empress. For diplomatic reasons, and the terms agreed to upon your marriage, you will not be allowed to return to Tortall. Instead, you may remain, in essence, a ward of the Imperial House, if His Imperial Majesty allows it. You will be given a household and an allowance."

The councilor pauses, letting it sink in. Kalasin stares at the paper numbly. It can't be, he's not dead, he's not gone, he's just a Stormwing and they don't know if the arrow really hit him, they haven't found a body yet—

Another one says, firmly, "The former Emperor is dead, my lady. It has been proved. If you do not sign, you will be submitting to these terms in any case, under Carthaki law."

She's heard the same story for the past two and a half months. She knows the rest. "Fine."

Her voice is somewhat dead, and there is silence in the council room for a few moments. "You agree?"

Kalasin nods firmly, but she's shaking inside, and her hands tremble as she takes the quill handed to her and dips it into the inkpot. It's not fair, someone much younger says in her mind. They took enough from me. Why do they have to take more?

She refuses to listen to it, as she lowers the quill to the parchment. If the gods must take, let them take all.

"Wait." His voice shatters the silence in the room, and all of them turn toward the corner where the Emperor sits. He has been silent until now—he knows the laws. But now he rises and walks toward the small table near the window. Ignoring the councilors, he nods toward Kalasin. "My lady, if I may have a word?"

It's a command, although a very politely worded one. Typical Kaddar, she thinks dully as he guides her toward the other side of the room, and into a small antechamber.

They look into each other's eyes for a few moments, and Kalasin remembers that they were friends. Maybe they still are. She doesn't know. Not many people, save for her three oldest friends, want to have anything to do with the Empress with a Stormwing for a husband.

He moves closer, puts an arm around her shoulders, just like he used to, before. "Are you all right, Kally?"

She manages a cracked laugh. "I've been better."

Kaddar holds her for a few moments, and he reminds her of Roald even more, now. They are silent. When he finally speaks, it's something she hardly expects to hear. "Marry me, Kally."

Her reaction is pure shock reflex; she puts one small hand on his chest and tries to push him away from her. "No!" But Kaddar is stronger, taller, and has more balance; easily, he places one arm around her waist and holds her still, but she struggles, anyway. One of her friends had told her that he'd probably ask this, but she hadn't believed her. "I thought you were above that," she whispers.

"Kally, listen," he tells her firmly, and actually shakes her a little to get her attention. "I know you're hurt. I know the gods took something away from you that you…" he pauses. "That you loved. Dearly. But that doesn't mean you can throw away the rest of your life just because of that. Just because the gods took one thing away doesn't mean that they have to take all."

She is silent, and he continues, lowering his voice a little, coaxing. "I need you. I need an Empress. You have the experience, and…" Kaddar rubs his neck, and she can tell how uncomfortable he is. It's mutual. "I don't expect to take Ozorne's place."

"Why me?" she asks, in a small voice. After the Yamani princess who had been his betrothed died, just a few months ago, she thought that he would have no problem securing another alliance in another princess from the same country.

Kaddar shrugs. ''I've known you for a long time. I've seen you grow up. I know that you'll make a good queen—for me, and for the nation. You can help rebuild. Together, we can change things."

She blinks away sudden tears. "I don't know."

"Think about it," he tells her softly. "I'll tell everybody to leave you alone for a while." Kaddar squeezes her limp hand as he slips out, and she can see the worry in his eyes.

Kaddar leaves her alone, standing by the windowsill and looking out over the river, but she's gotten used to being alone, since Ozorne left.

Kalasin gazes down at the river some more, and wishes that she could see her destiny in its liquid blue depths.

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