He had not eaten for days. Only the draughts that Selene brought to him from time to time sustained him, quenching his thirst and giving moisture to his filthy skin. The only movements he made were the laborious trips to the cistern and to bed, to relieve himself and catch a few hours of troubled, unsatisfying sleep. Selene helped him, as he was sometimes so weak that he was unable to hold himself upright. In those moments, he thought of her as an angel, her white hair shining through his dolor. She stood behind his throne as Heterodymus entered the room only long enough to make a short, almost mechanical announcement before wheeling about and leaving. “It is done.” The Judicar, even in his weakened state, could see that his servant was merely following procedure in the most perfunctory manner possible. He raised his hand to the twin's receding back, trying to hail him, but Selene gently pushed the hand back down to the arm of the throne while giving the retreating counselor an icy stare.
