Itzi paused and took a sip of his wine. He looked up at Malina from his cup and for a moment all of his years were visible on his face. The lines and wrinkles of court life. The clipped earlobes marking his as being born a slave were rounded with age. The bags under his eyes worn so deep that they had become part of his face. He blinked once slowly.
"Can we trust the prophecies?"
Malina resisted the urge to gasp. Honorifics were aside but what Itzi had said was close to sacrilege. She had known him the better part of her life, as a tutor, and aide, and now her most trusted advisor. They spoke freely when no one was around, something that was very rare for an empress, but there had never been anything like this. Never doubt like this.
"The prophecies are the foundation of our empire, of our existence. They cannot be more sacred to me. We are going to reclaim what has been lost. We are doing this because it is ours. We will fulfill our fate as the prophecies had decreed. Of this I have no doubt."
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