It was too much for her to wrap her battered mind around at the moment. She laid her bruised head gingerly back on the pillow and let her eyes close.

*   *   *

When she next awoke, the pain had receded a little, and Bobby and Cyte were waiting by her bedside. Winter pushed herself back in the bed until she was propped up against the headboard and groaned.

“I had a really terrible dream,” she said. “Janus had marched off and left me in charge of Desland.”

Bobby and Cyte looked at each other, worried.

Winter groaned again. “All right. I didn’t get hit that hard. He’s really gone?”

Bobby nodded. “This morning.”

“And how does he expect me to run a city? I don’t even speak Hamveltai.”

“Most of the Deslandai upper class is bilingual,” Cyte said. “Historically, the region has been heavily influenced by both Hamvelt and Vordan. It was actually a Vordanai protectorate until—”

Winter winced and held up a hand. “Later. Okay. So how bad was it for us?”

“Captain Verity reports twenty-two dead, thirty-six wounded,” Bobby said, consulting a folded page from her pocket. “Captain Sevran reports fifty-four dead, sixty-two wounded. I’ll have a more detailed report on the injuries soon.”

Losses were light, he said. Winter remembered the redheaded sergeant—I didn’t even know her name—whimpering and clawing at the wound in her chest. Twenty-two dead. Twenty-two who followed me from Vordan because I told them it was the right thing to do. Twenty-two daughters who won’t be back. She didn’t even want to think about the wounded, the cutters’ tents with the piles of arms and legs outside. “Light.”

“What about . . .” The question made her feel absurdly guilty, but she had to say it. “Jane?”

“She’s fine,” Bobby said, an unhappy look on her face.

Winter’s heart twisted. “What’s wrong?”

“I think she’s still angry at you.”

“Oh.” Winter let out a deep breath. “I’ll talk with her. Later.” Guilt prickled. “Is Marsh all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who’s been in command while I’ve been . . . out?”

“Sevran and Abby having been working together, sir. There’s a lot to be done, but they seem to be on top of things.”

“Still. I need to be up and about.” Winter began to move, but pain lanced through her head again, and she moaned involuntarily. Bobby rushed to press her back into the bed, and Cyte held up her hands.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, sir,” Cyte said. “We can handle it. Just supply requisitions, transport arrangements, that sort of thing. The Deslandai have been very cooperative.”

“You’ve got quarters for everybody? Somewhere to care for the injured?”

“Yes, sir,” Bobby said. “We’re taking care of it, don’t worry. Just rest for now.”