"For the future," he insisted.
"Your future," I countered.
Virgin-Superior Elizabeth, the woman who administered the Temple of the Pure itself while I dealt with the entire faith, snorted in laughter. We had been friends and lovers for decades, rising together through the ranks of Saphique's church. I trusted her.
"Angela must die, but it must look accidental," King Edward insisted, lifting his eyes from my breast. "The good of all the Kingdoms is at stake. It will be war if Angela somehow tries to press the High King's claim. Haz, Valya, Thlin, Athlos, and the Principalities will rise up. Even the Magery of Thosi will become involved. This could plunge the continent into decades of suffering."
I glanced at Elizabeth. She arched an eyebrow. She thought there was merit to the plan. I licked my lips. "But such a betrayal of trust is monumental. It might offend even our holy Goddess."
"An offering could be arranged," the King said.
