Imperial

23. Roshani

A semi-circle of ritual objects set upon blood-red velvet cushions fanned out just behind the priest. Each object had a distinct, essential meaning, each one a portent of the future and a sign of the gods. Roshani hugged Kasra just a little bit tighter to her chest. Whichever object he chose would indicate what sort of shah he would be one day. The ritual was viewed with the utmost severity by not only the royal court, but the entire population. Rumors would swirl through the capital for weeks after the ceremony about the young prince's choice, and city gossipers would speculate eagerly about the implications for his reign.

Roshani wordlessly took her earring back from Kasra. Newly distracted by the many new faces in the room, he let her take his new plaything without complaint, his brown eyes going wide in interest. He was blissfully ignorant of the immense pressure resting on his small shoulders.

There were ten different ritual objects. Roshani's eyes roved over them, appraising each possibility. A small wooden figurine of Mithra rested on the cushion to the far left. In his left hand, the god gripped his sword, in his right a torch. If Kasra chose it, it would mark him as a pious shah, one who would put loyalty to the gods above all else. Given the current treachery of the priests of Mithra, such a sign would certainly leave the court uneasy.

Next to the figurine rested a golden lyre. Though meant to represent a shah greatly skilled in art and music, over the centuries it had come to be seen as a sign of a distracted and incompetent shah, who would rather take part in revelries than run an empire.

Roshani's gaze skimmed over the other objects, symbols of wisdom and compassion, strength and charm, and any number of other qualities meant for a shah. Her gaze fell on the last object in the row, eyeing it wistfully. A small fire burned in a miniscule, copper brazier, the hungry flames reaching their fingers up toward the ceiling. The Cup of Iraj, it was called, named for the founder of Sazia himself. It was said that Iraj alone among his brothers reached for the cup of fire, indicating even from a young age that he was destined to rise above them.

Roshani glanced from the cup back to Kasra, who didn't seem particularly interested in the elaborate display of ornate objects before him. Roshani wished she could have communicated with him, to tell him what he should choose. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. It would be alright- Kasra would make a fine choice.

"Your highness," the priest addressed her, bowing low. Roshani raised her hand to bid him rise again and he did so. "We are ready to begin the ceremony. If you would let the prince down?"

Roshani fought every instinct in her to hold Kasra tight and refuse to subject him to the equal parts ridiculous and perilous ritual. But it was a tradition, one that held immense power. Someday, she would be powerful enough to change it; today was not that day.

The eyes of the gathered nobles heavy on her back, Roshani placed Kasra on the floor in the center of the room. She quickly turned away from him, following the priest to stand behind the half-circle of sacred objects. Her gaze automatically sought out Farah's in the crowd. The princess gave her a small nod, a gesture meant to reassure, and Roshani tried to force her muscles to loosen.

"Prince Kasra will now make his choice before this assembly of witnesses," the priest's grand voice announced. "May Mithra's light guide him and our glorious empire. Blessed be the flames!"

"Blessed be the flames," Roshani murmured, her voice lost under the chorus of the repeated phrase. The priest reached into his sleeve and brought out a small, golden bell. He shook it once, releasing a sweet, tinkling sound. It captured Kasra's attention. The round-faced infant, barely more than half a year old, tilted his head to the side in curiosity, his green eyes widening with interest. Roshani stood stock still, hardly daring to breathe, as he began to crawl his way toward the sacred objects.