He will be Emperor. Was it not foretold in prophecy that all Huitzilxochtin’s sons would rule? When Axayacatl is dead, he will succeed him. There should be no doubt. Indeed, even to vote upon it is almost an insult.

But there will be a vote, regardless of his feelings. The council will be looking for a canny politician, a man skilled in war, a man with the blessings and favor of the gods. He can handle the first two well enough, but the god do not bestow their blessings on mediocre men. He knows this. So does the council.

So too does his brother, who half rises from his very deathbed to ask, “Have you a plan?”

He almost smiles. “I do.”

And he doesn’t care who dies in its execution.