The Queen called out. “I’m sorry to be so helpless, Blanche, but I am so hungry…”

Blanche had no idea where to get food, and she didn’t want to interrupt Nell.

The Red Knight came back and managed to set the full bucket down by the fire without spilling a drop.

“My lord, can you—fetch some food for her grace?” Blanche hesitated. It was always dangerous, giving any kind of a demand to a lord. “I’m sorry, my lord, but it’s for the Queen.”

“Ser Gabriel will do,” he said. “We did share a saddle all day. Your grace,” he said, bowing in the Queen’s direction, “what do you fancy that I can find for you? I wouldn’t wake my worst enemy right now for service.”

The Queen stretched out a hand and took his. “You saved us,” she said.

Ser Gabriel knelt.

“Ghause…” the Queen said.

Gabriel cleared his throat. Blanche thought he might have sobbed. “She tried to kill you and the babe,” he said.

“And now?” the Queen asked.

“I fear she is dead—though not through our efforts.” Gabriel’s smile was shaky in the firelight, and Blanche turned away, unwilling to watch. “I hope it is not treason to want my mother not on my conscience.”

“Your mother is dead?” the Queen asked. “Oh, ser knight, I’m so sorry.”

“If you are so sorry immediately after she tried to kill you and your baby,” he said savagely, “then you are a saint.”

Desiderata smiled. “A hungry saint,” she said with a glance at Sister Amicia. “She is watching in the aethereal.”

Ser Gabriel put a hand on her forehead with great tenderness. “In the Wild—when a Power reaches a certain—level—”

Desiderata nodded. “I know. Apotheosis.”

Gabriel looked at Amicia. “I think she’s close.” He shrugged, trying to make light of it. “What happens to Christians? Sainthood?”

Desiderata smiled. “She will not leave us just yet, ser knight,” she said with serene confidence, as if…

… as if someone else were speaking through her. Blanche shivered. She knew the Queen intimately—and the Queen was somehow different.

But Ser Gabriel merely bowed. “Can I help you with a hale winter apple, some sausage and a nice hard cheese?” he asked.

Blanche busied herself with the water. She served the Queen two cups and put a third at her elbow. Then she put the rest on to heat in a big, often-patched copper cauldron that seemed to have more rivets than a porcupine had quills. It held water well enough, though.

She stirred her first laundry load and skimmed the foulest crud off the top.

Ser Gabriel came back with food. At the first scent of the sausage, Blanche realized that she, too, was famished.

He knelt by the Queen and fed her.

While she was chewing, he asked, “Can you ride tomorrow, your grace?”