“You said yes,” Gretl countered. “And you said it a lot. You said yes after other people said no, and you got other people what they wanted. If you really wanted your own university, Sireen would have given you one. You could have had your own garden and your own studio, and you could have worked on your mathematics and painted solarsets and gone sailing on your yacht. But you didn’t ask. Madame said, ‘Let’s make you a frigate capitaine and send you to the far end of the world into dangers undreamt of,’ and you jumped like a cricket. As much as you want to make everyone around you happy, you also want the adventure. I’m glad for you, but don’t tell me you didn’t have a choice. And don’t go thinking you have to win or die, either. There’s no Lael or Kantelvar out there trying to wreck the kingdom. If your head goes to pieces, let someone else take over and let yourself heal.”

Isabelle frowned at this reprimand. Everyone seemed to think she was more stubborn than she really was. It wasn’t as if she didn’t take advice from those she trusted, but in this matter no one had advice she could act on.

“Do you think my head will go to pieces?” Isabelle asked worriedly.

Gretl hesitated, then made a careful reply. “The potion I gave you helps some people who have visions and hear voices. It seems to be working the way it should on you, but that doesn’t mean your injury isn’t unique. You literally yanked a Fenice vitera out of your brain. I don’t know if your troubles are because of what it put into you or the damage it did coming out. As long as the potion keeps working, I’d say you should be fine, but that means you have to take it on schedule.”

“I will,” Isabelle said. “Even if I don’t want to.”

Social obligation called Gretl away. Isabelle moved around the crowd at the edge of the room, looking for friendly faces but remaining otherwise unobtrusive. Somewhat more than half the people in this room had voted in Parlement to strip her of her social identity, and she saw no reason to entertain them. Indeed, having congratulated Gretl she saw little reason to linger, and merely counted the minutes until it would be socially acceptable to leave.

A servant she recognized approached her bearing a tray of wine goblets in both hands. He was a resident of the facility, a man of middle years in black livery with a white sash emblazoned with a red blood drop. Isabelle met his gaze and saw battle scars in the rings around his eyes.

“Thomas,” Isabelle said. She did not accept a cup. Wine did not mix well with her medicine. “It’s good to see you up and about.”