“Your Highness,” he corrected her gently. “I’m not the First Lord yet.”

The slave smiled tiredly. “You just stood against the nightmare of our time, young man. You put your life at hazard for the sake of a slave who once tried to murder you. Thank you. Your Majesty.”

“If you want to thank a hero, thank Foss,” Tavi said wearily. “He’s the one who saved you.”

“My thanks won’t matter to him now,” she said quietly. “I hope his rest is peaceful.”

Tavi sat up slowly. “Where’s Kitai?”

“Sleeping,” Dorotea said. “She was exhausted.”

“What happened after I went down?”

The slave smiled faintly. “Several of us were unconscious and dying. You. Me. Maximus. Crassus. She was not in good condition herself, and did not have the strength remaining to attempt a healing on more than one person. She had to choose whom to save.”

Tavi took a slow breath. “Ah. And she chose you. Someone to lead the less-experienced healers.”

Dorotea inclined her head slightly, as if she was afraid something might spill out if she tipped it too far. “Our senior folk were all conferring when...” She shivered. “When you saw us. Kitai’s was a remarkably rational decision, under the circumstances. Emotions tend to overrule reason when one is in pain and afraid for another. And her feelings for you are disturbingly intense. She could easily have let those feelings control her. And I, my son, and your friend Maximus would all be dead.”

“She made the right call,” Tavi said. He looked at Max and Crassus. “How are they?”

Dorotea tightened the blanket around her slightly. “I assume that you know that watercrafting does not simply make a subject whole again. It draws upon the body’s resources to restore what has been made unwhole.”

“Of course,” Tavi said.

“There are limits. And... and my Crassus had so many injuries. Broken bones. Shattered organs.” She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “I did all that I could, everything, but there are limits to what can be repaired. The body can only sustain so much of its own regeneration...”

She shuddered and shook for several seconds. Then suddenly Dorotea seemed to master herself and lifted her face, wiping tears briskly from her cheeks. Her voice was unsteady, but she attempted to use crisp, professional description. “Crassus’s injuries were extensive and serious. I repaired enough damage that they should not shorten his life. Assuming that there is no infection—which is an acute danger when a body is so badly strained—he may be able to walk again. Eventually. His days as a Tribune are finished.”

Tavi swallowed and nodded. “Maximus?”

“The vord Queen hit him on the head rather than anywhere vital,” Dorotea said with tired, almost fond irritation. “He’s fine. Or will be, when he wakes up. It could take a while.”

“How am I?” Tavi asked.