Yamm's face contorted with something like grief, but Rowan couldn't tell if it was because of Wren's words about Loma or because of the lifetime of pain that fueled them.
Wren scoffed when his father didn't immediately respond, but it seemed more habit than anything. Rowan wondered if they'd ever had a conversation that didn't end in an argument.
"Look at this place." The anger drained from Wren's voice as he abruptly changed the subject, leaving it hollow. He motioned to the room around him as he walked a few paces then stopped. "All of this is just for you?"
Pairs of black columns with gold capitals lined the perimeter of the white marble walls. Between each pair hung a tapestry, silver and gold threads creating Yamm's images of life and death on a background of claret. The marble under their feet sparkled as if littered with diamonds.
A palace truly befitting of a god.
