When he'd recovered himself somewhat, he found he'd been deposited on the couch. The anger left him, replaced with fear and shame. Tears filled his eyes. The twins held him, soothing him like a child. Was he the powerful or the powerless? Powerful, he supposed--he was the Heir to an empire, but he hadn't thought much about it until recently. Did his soul really crave power? If not, why did it attract him so? Ibbit was right; men were inherently depraved, or at least he was. What had Fennows said about patronizing whores--"the Lovers' Temple makes you think about it."
"I don't want to think about it, I don't want to be like that," he sniffled as his tears subsided.
"Tem, you already are 'like that,'" soothed Allis. "You know so little about yourself, but you told me everything on our ride."
"Did I? Then tell me how evil a man I am."