Without his presence, his touch, she felt that she herself had become the figment. When she put herself to bed, the touch of her blankets was mute. The pressure of the pillow on her head had no meaning. Even dying animals could be comforted. Another wild cry rose in her, a wail that the whole Repository would hear. Her own frenzy stopped her. Her heart made no sound, but the force of her pulse was tangible. It insisted that she had not lost every connection. She remained bound to her fears.

Then the toll of the past few hours washed over her. As the labor of her heart slowed, it carried her to sleep.

Sometime later, a voice touched her mind.

Queen? I must speak with you.

Startled upright in her bed, she asked, “Avail?” Or perhaps she did not. She heard nothing.

Yet she must have made some noise. Almost immediately, Crayn opened her door and hurried to her bedside. His mouth moved dumbly. Like hers, his voice was a dead thing.

Grimacing at his mistake, he reached for her hand.

She jerked it away, a gesture that refused him. With her thoughts, she called, Avail?

Queen, replied the Magister, speak more softly. He sounded vexed. There is no need to shout. Your last cry was heard everywhere. It burst Apprentice Travail’s eardrums. Many others bled from their ears. Magisters and scullery-maids felt a force like an explosion.

Only form the words in your mind and think of me. I will hear you.

Instinctively, Estie recoiled. “Gods!” she gasped. “Travail—?” He had tried so hard to help her—and she had hurt him? “Will he recover? Can he be healed?”

Her chamber remained as soundless as a tomb.

Crayn grabbed her hand, held it when she tried to pull away. Laboriously, he tapped words onto her forearm.

—Calm yourself, Majesty. I hear you.

With an effort, the Queen met his troubled gaze. Unsure of her control over her human voice, she enunciated carefully, “Not now, Commander. Wait.”

Perplexed and anxious, Crayn let her withdraw her hand.

She turned her head away. Closed her eyes. Concentrated.

Magister Avail?

That is better, Queen, he answered. It will become easier. I do not mean to distress you. I know you are afraid. The price you have paid is a horror. You will pay it for the rest of your life. I know. I pay it every hour of every day.

I disturbed you because I must tell you two things.

Estie sat back against her pillows. She wanted to shout, No! Not now! It is too much! She meant, I have lost more than my life. I have lost my husband. But the surge and pause of her pulse steadied her. To that extent, she was still alive.

Scowling until her forehead seemed to split, she asked, Do you have word of King Bifalt, Magister?