“Hello, my Queen,” a man’s voice whispered in her ear right before a second pain blossomed in her side. She gasped, stumbling forward. A hand reached out and yanked the medallion from her fingers.

Elayne spun, and the room seemed blurry. Something warm ran down her side. She was bleeding! She was so stunned, she felt the Source slip away from her.

Doilin Mellar stood behind her in the hallway, holding a bloodied knife in his right hand, hefting the medallion in his left. His hatchetlike face was broken by a deep smile, almost a leer. Though he wore only rags, he looked as self-assured as a king on his throne.

Elayne hissed and reached for the Source. But nothing happened. She heard chuckling behind her. She hadn’t tied off Chesmal’s shield! As soon as Elayne released the Source, the weaves would have vanished. Sure enough, Elayne glanced and found weaves cutting her off from the Source.

Chesmal, handsome face flushed, smiled at her. Light! There was blood pooling at Elayne’s feet. So much of it.

She stumbled back against the wall of the hallway, Mellar to one side, Chesmal the other.

She couldn’t die. Min had said…We could be misinterpreting. Birgitte’s voice returned to her. Any number of things could still go wrong.

“Heal her,” Mellar said.

“What?” Chesmal demanded. Behind her, Eldrith was dusting herself off inside the cell doorway. She’d fallen to the ground when Elayne’s weavings of Air dissipated, but her shield was still there. That one Elayne had tied in place.

Think, Elayne told herself, blood dribbling between her fingers. There has to be a way out. There has to be! Oh, Light! Birgitte, hurry!

“Heal her,” Mellar said again. “The knife wound was to make her drop you.”

“Fool,” Chesmal said. “If the weaves had been tied off, a wound wouldn’t have released us!”

“Then she would have died,” Mellar said, shrugging. He eyed Elayne; those handsome eyes of his shone with lust. “And that would have been a pity. For she was promised to me, Aes Sedai. I won’t have her die here in this dungeon. She doesn’t die until I have had time to…enjoy her.” He looked at the Black sister. “Besides, you think those whom we serve would be pleased if they knew you’d let the Queen of Andor die without yielding her secrets?”

Chesmal looked dissatisfied, but she apparently saw the wisdom in his words. Behind them, the secretary slipped out of the cell and—after glancing both ways—slunk down the hallway toward the steps and hurried up them. Chesmal crossed the hallway toward Elayne. Blessedly. Elayne was getting fuzzy-headed. She rested her back against the wall, barely feeling the pain of her broken shoulder, and slid down until she was sitting.

“Idiot girl,” Chesmal said. “I saw through your ploy, of course. I was leading you on, knowing that help was coming.”

The words were hollow; she was lying for the benefit of the others. The Healing. Elayne needed…that…Healing. Her mind was growing dull, her vision darkening. She held her hand to her side, terrified for herself, for her children.