When the flagon was empty, she looked at Crayn. For the first time, she noticed that his eyes held a subtle tint of orange. Perhaps that was why they made her think of sandstone. Words came to her in a rush.

“How badly are you hurt?”

Frowning, he shifted a little away from her. He seemed to consider conflicting answers. Then he removed the support of his arm. With both hands, he opened his shirt.

It was not the fitted blouse he usually wore under his armor. It was looser, more a wrap than a shirt, secured on both sides by ties at the points of his hips. When he unclosed it, Estie saw that his whole torso was wrapped in bandages. They showed no sign of bleeding.

“Broken ribs, Majesty,” he said ruefully. “Nothing worse.” As he closed and tied his shirt, he added, “The physicians are remarkable. And the shamans. It will be a few days before I can swing a sword. But I can hold my rifle.”

She put her hands on his shoulders, drew him closer. Fearing to cause him pain, she did not hug him. “Crayn.” Memories and lost peace tightened her throat. “You saved me.”

He looked away, cast half of his face into shadow. “The devotee reached you ahead of me. At first, I was ashamed that she took my place. Now I am glad. That weight of stone and timbers— You needed both of us.

“Here.” He withdrew from her clasp to refill the flagon. “Drink again. You also were injured, Majesty. There was bleeding from your mouth. The healers feared some inward hurt. The shaman performed a strange ritual. The physician made you sleep. Now you must drink.”

Estie lifted the flagon, took a few more swallows; accepted the pain that came with them. Soon she recognized her bedroom in the Last Repository. The door was shut.

“And you watched over me the whole time?”

She meant, When you needed care yourself?

The Commander smiled. “No, Majesty. My men stood shifts at your door while I was given care.”

One by one, she put fragments together.

Why was she so thirsty?

Cautiously, she asked, “How long did I sleep?”

He looked away again. “Two days, Majesty. It is night again.”

Queen Estie bit back her impulse to demand, Why did you allow it? His manner told her that he had more to say. Instead of challenging him, she confessed, “I would have slept longer.” Then she asked, “Why did you wake me now?”

“I was commanded, Majesty.”

“Commanded?” Who had dared?

Crayn sighed. “Strongly encouraged. They are alarmed, Majesty. They did not expect you to sleep so long. Now you are needed.”

Needed? She felt a shiver of anxiety.