Prepare to feel sorry for Maldor! Mua ha ha ha!

The Emperor knelt beside her, gently brushing his knuckles against the soft, cold skin of her throat. He sighed, letting his hand come to rest over the place where her heart had once beat, and swallowed what he would never admit might have been a sob. He hated her. He was glad she was dead. But that didn't mean he had to like being betrayed.

"Why did you lie to me?" He hissed down at the still corpse, voice raw with seven different sorts of conflicting emotion. Frustration: that was easy enough to explain. He was the sole surviving wizard in the world, and so far during his century of power, still people tried to defy him. Then there was loss; well of course he would feel that, she'd been an excellent spy, and among the Displacers that was saying something. The other emotions were hardly worth mention. That's what he kept telling himself anyway.

But deep inside he still could not force down the feelings of sorrow, regret, and . . .

"Why did you leave me!" He folded atop her body, shaking with sobs that defied all he knew, all he'd been taught.

She had not meant to leave. He had not meant to kill her.

With a final, regretful glance he stood, covering her body with the maps she had loved so much. The room was filled with maps – all the maps on the continent. He turned and walked out of the black marble room, eyes red but dry as he muttered an Edomic phrase.

A wave of heat blasted his back as the dry paper caught fire. He didn't look back. Another word and the heavy stone door slammed behind him, cutting off the hungry flames. He could feel the magic swirling around him, invisible motes of power just within reach. Exhilaration washed over him as he brought the entire building crashing down around him.

She had loved the maps. He had loved her.

Now both were gone.