“I was not wrong when I made Klamath the General of my army, and of Amika’s. You know what he has done. I was not wrong when I relied on Elgart for the security of my realm and the alliance. He did more than seek out treachery. He exposed the Great God’s Archpriest. And he brought Suti al-Suri and the el-Algreb to fight for us.

“I was not wrong when I trusted Queen Estie and Amika to remain faithful to our alliance despite my conduct toward her. I was not wrong when I asked my brother Lome to command the evacuation of the Open Hand. He gave his best to the task. I was not wrong when I put my life in the hands of Magister Astride and her wielders of earthquake. I was not wrong when I required my brother Jaspid to remain with me until the time came when only his unmatched skills would suffice.

“Above all, I was not wrong when I heeded Queen Estie’s voice in my mind. At first, I heard it wrongly. I did not have it in me to believe that her heart remained open. But she spoke to me again, and yet again, trusting me despite my reluctance. And as she persisted, the wall that I had erected against her cracked. In the end, I heeded her.”

King Bifalt paused again. When he continued, he spoke like shouting.

“You have gathered here to honor all those who endured suffering and bloodshed for your sake. I give you Commander Forguile and Captain Flisk. I give you General Klamath, Elgart, and the el-Algreb. I give you Prince Lome and Prince Jaspid.” His voice shook. “I give you the Magisters of Belleger and Amika, who fought in every battle without regard to their own safety. I give you all of the most holy devotees, wherever they may be.

“With my whole heart, I give you Queen Estie of Amika, who provided our only chance for victory.”

All around him, the people of the Last Repository were utterly still. None of them seemed to breathe.

Their silence suited him. Perhaps they expected him to say more. He did not. Instead, he turned away and left the center of the hall, heading toward his wife.

Behind him, a few people started talking. Their voices were soft, gentle. They fell into the hall like scattered raindrops. But the sound became a mild drizzle. Then it grew louder. Soon it resembled a downpour, resounding against the walls of the refectory, multiplying itself until it seemed to fill the Last Repository. It was an ovation.

King Bifalt ignored it. Queen Estie’s radiance drew him like a lodestone.

When he could stand so that no one else would see his gestures, he told her:

—I want you.

In the same way, she answered:

—Then come with me, beloved.

Holding his arm with both hands, she drew him out of the storm.