They are a luxury, slaves. Proof that you are too important for the menial. Too grand for the mundane. They are proof of status, nothing more. And lik... all things, they are disposable.”“Disposable?” my brother demanded. “You would waste them.”“That’s the ultimate proof of power and wealth.” Empress Szialianith smiled. It did not touch her reptilian eyes. “To discard something that is whole and strong, that is still functional, is a waste that only the powerful and the rich can afford.”“I think. Peace and serenity, not freedom and individuality. Peace and serenity. Peace. “I am coming back,” I whispered to the tree, and touched my brow to its bark, “but you will not join me. I am so sorry.” And though I spoke the words intimately against the white pine’s trunk, I could not hear them from my own lips, for they were stolen by the thunder of hooves beneath me. Like a river of gold, the Highland cavalry flowed through the trunks of the pine trees, following the remnants of the highway. More

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