Janel’s grandfather, the previous Count of Tolamer, had trusted the man too, trusted Zajhera with his granddaughter’s life. Zajhera had been the one who’d exorcised Xaltorath when the demon prince had proved immune to all the normal methods, including a direct order from the emperor. Zajhera had been the one who put Janel together again afterward, who had guided her back to sanity—and kept her from devolving into a festering ball of hate and malice.

Zajhera was a good man. The best of men.

Zajhera couldn’t be Relos Var.

Except he was.

Everything was too much. The betrayal was too much, the pain was too much, existence was too much.

But if he disobeyed, the pain would end.

He remembered vomiting and then nothing else.

35: THE CASTLE OF ICE

Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since Talon failed to kill a Manol vané

No one spoke as Brother Qown finished.

“That must have been a hard choice,” Kihrin said. He’d known that choice himself, back when he’d been gaeshed, but had never seriously considered it.

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” Janel said. She leaned over and kissed the top of Qown’s head.

Dorna reached over and patted the priest’s hand.

“Me too,” Qown said. “I want to help make things better. I thought that ability would have been limited in the Afterlife.” To Dorna, he said, “And I didn’t know the right people to guarantee my Return.”

“I’ll pick up from here,” Janel said.

Janel’s Turn. The Ice Demesne, Yor, Quur.

Senera and I rushed over to Brother Qown. He had pulled his legs to his chest, rocking back and forth, crying into his robes.

“Is this because of the gaesh?” I asked her.

“No.” Senera felt Brother Qown’s wrists, the skin under his jaw, then looked at both eyes, lifting his eyelids with her thumbs. “He’s not experiencing a gaesh loop.”

“A loop?”

“Contradictory gaesh commands. The conflict usually proves lethal. That said, something’s put him into shock. Help me get him over to the bed.”

I went to lift him and cried out as I felt like my arms might jerk from their sockets. I’d forgotten my lack of strength.

“Together,” Senera said.

“I see.” I lifted with her this time, and we managed to carry Brother Qown to the bed. I saw what she meant—he hadn’t lost consciousness, nor was he having a seizure. He stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused.

And I knew that look. I knew it in my bones.

I’d lived in that state where you’re too numb to be sad or unhappy or angry. That place where nothing has meaning and everything hurts.