Estie’s guide had halted. He seemed confused. As she passed him, the Queen paused long enough to say, “Thank you, Truly. Your task is done. Now I must attend to my own duties.” Then she walked on, leaving him to turn and scramble away.

Tightening her grip on herself, she approached the Magisters.

“Queen!” snapped Magister Avail.

She summoned one of her pleasant smiles. “Magister?” He seemed absurdly angry. Since he had stormed away outside the gates, none of his reactions had made sense. In Magister Marrow’s workroom, he had given the impression that he was afraid to look at her. “How have I offended you? You cannot think that the diligence of my guards was meant to insult you.”

Avail did not wait for Magister Rummage’s translation. His voice rode over hers. “I was told to speak with you. I was not told that I would be forced to stand here when I could have been comfortable in your sitting room, numbing my pain with wine.

“Is it true? Did you demand my attendance? Then we should have been made welcome.”

In the midst of his outburst, Queen Estie’s heart staggered as if she had been hit as hard as Magister Facile. The air in the corridor turned grey. It was too thin to sustain her. She seemed to feel all of her blood slump toward the floor. She tried to brace herself on Crayn’s shoulder. She lacked the strength to support herself.

Gods! she panted. Not this. Please!

Magister Oblique had kept her promise.

Surely there were other explanations? Avail may have brought news from the Farsighted. He had brought Magister Rummage to tell him what she said. Something had happened to Bifalt—

“Steady, Majesty,” breathed Crayn in her ear. “Steady.”

Her heart beat once. Its force shook her. She felt blood rush into her face. Her chest swelled. The pressure of her pulse made demands that she did not know how to meet.

Nevertheless she was Amika’s Queen, daughter of Smegin and Rubia. Her father would have excoriated her for showing weakness. Her mother would have found a kinder way to help her. And she had made all of her choices long ago: all except this one. She had to face it.

Magister Avail had only come to speak with her. If she wanted more, he might refuse. If he offered more, she might refuse.

Deliberately, she took one breath, and another, until she was able to stand as straight as any queen.

“Forgive me, Magister.” She was trembling, but every breath strengthened her. “A moment of faintness, nothing more.” He was not blind. He must have noticed her reaction. “The power of that explosion— I am not entirely recovered.”

To Crayn, she said, “Relieve your men, Commander. They have done well. Now I do not need them.”