“But I’m so cold,” Bitterblue said, then noticed snowflakes falling on the creature’s head, melting into its fur. She reached a hand toward its head, then cried out in a ragged, broken voice as one of her rings, her most important ring and dearest treasure, slid from her finger, bounced on the purple mountain she was riding, and slipped into the water.

“Mama!” Bitterblue cried, because it was her dead mother’s ring, gold, with inset gray stones to match the color of Bitterblue’s eyes. It was the only piece of her mother she’d brought on this journey. “Mama!” she moaned as she tried to slide from her mountain and dive after the ring, stopped by the long-whiskered creature who surged up beside her.

Numbly, Bitterblue rested her cheek, watching the snow form a small mound on the head of her long-whiskered friend. She supposed snow was forming soft mounds on her own body as well. She couldn’t feel her body. She heard lapping water as the creatures around her moved, felt the gentle care of the creature who balanced her on its back. Stay awake, Long Whiskers said, over and over, regularly, like the low beat at the base of a song. Idly, it occurred to her that she was hearing all of their voices inside her own head, not really in words, but in pictures, pictures of herself swimming, strong, warm, awake. She remembered then that she knew about these creatures: Keepish silbercows, who were telepaths. Their oil, after they died, made an exquisite golden light. Bitterblue had imported some for her court. Saf had swum with them too.

Maybe none of this is happening, she thought, just as an enormous whale appeared in the sky, with two people suspended below it in a sort of boat. I’m entering the hallucination stage, Bitterblue thought, remembering the things Katsa had taught her about hypothermia.

The two flying people were yelling at each other and doing something with ropes. One of them, tall, athletic, brown-skinned like Katu, was lowering herself on a ladder down to Bitterblue, then trying to wrap Bitterblue in some sort of rope halter.

“I’ve reached the hallucination stage,” Bitterblue tried to say to the hallucination of the woman, in case it was helpful for her to know. “This isn’t happening.” She supposed she was too cold to live now. She wouldn’t get to fire all her people, because she was going to die. She wouldn’t get to see Winterkeep, or kiss Katu again, or confront those importers, or find out what had happened to Mikka and Brek aboard the Seashell. She thought of each drowned man now, remembering that their deaths were her burdens. She wouldn’t get to carry the burdens of her kingdom, ever again.