Is she—”

Pain and grief creased her face. “Better,” she said hoarsely, her breath coming short and fast. “I drew it from her body.”

He understood. In saving the child, she had infected herself. “Then we shall draw it from you.”

She shook her head. “Nay, husband. Had there been a sorcerelle here when I first took it, perhaps. Not now.”

He bowed his head in overwhelming sorrow, gripping her hand again, then holding it even tighter when she tried to pull away.

“The poison was meant for Faldain,” she said. “It came in a sweet, baked in the shape he loves best. One sweet, brought only for him. I was preoccupied, not paying attention, or I would have sensed it at once.”

“Your majesty was not even in the room,” Gilda murmured.  Tobeszijian glanced at the old nurse, and her sad eyes met his. “I did not know, sire,” Gilda whispered guiltily. “How could I guess anything was amiss? Except I sent to the kitchens for no such treat. Nor did I recognize the page who brought it for my lamb. Our precious princeling gave such a laugh when he saw it, and clapped his little hands. But the princess is ever greedy, no matter how many times I admonish her. She grabbed it off the tray before her brother could touch it. It went straight in her mouth. Seconds later, she was screaming.” He thought of his daughter, only four, with her mother’s grace and slenderness, already a beauty with long, golden curls. His son was less than two years old, chubby and full of mischief. That anyone would want to harm these sweet innocents sickened him, and stirred his rage anew. “Where are they?” he asked.  “In the nursery,” Gilda replied. “Suchin watches over them. I could not bring them in here to watch their lady mother die.”

“She will not die,” he said firmly, turning back to Nereisse. “She will not.”

“Save them,” Nereisse said softly, her voice as thin as the springtime wind.  “The children—so young.” She turned her face away and brushed at it with her fingers. “So hot. So hot. I must find my dear Tobeszijian, who walks this land no more.”

He stared at her, feeling helpless and afraid, while Gilda went back to sponging her face. There must be something he could do. Her skin looked like wet ashes.  She was breathing harshly, with great difficulty, and another spasm of pain shuddered through her, making her cry out. “Kalfeyd edr hahld’t” she said.  A whoosh of energy passed his head, just missing him, and one of the massive bedposts split. Gilda dropped the enameled basin of water and jumped back, making the sign of a circle on her breast. “She’ll kill us all, sire!”