25.12

Zyrdicia awoke with a start. She found herself sitting on Dirk's throne. She had no memory of leaving the battle in the North Wing, but she remembered fainting at the end of it.

The throne room buzzed with activity. Nelor had a map of the castle spread out upon the throne dais not far from her. He and several other men were filling it with markings showing troop positions. Wounded palace guards were strewn about the room.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to remember what had happened. Her abdomen ached. She touched it to be see whether she had been stabbed. The instant her hand fell on it, she knew the source of the pain. The thing that had been growing inside her was already dead.

She had been miserable without Dirk for a long time, but this latest defeat was too much to bear. Without the soul of her offspring, she could never hope to defeat Azriok and Azriok was coming soon. With Dirk in a coma, there would be no second chance to spawn a soul. The whole world was about to be lost.

She suddenly felt defeated. She brought her knees to her chin and curled up in the enormous chair, trying to disappear into it. The movement drew attention to her. A cry went out, "She's awake!" It was answered by a chorus of "Praise the gods!"

She covered her face with her hands, wishing they would leave her in peace. "No gods are listening to you," she groaned.

A hand fell on her shoulder. She recognized Nelor's voice speaking, "Your Highness, the day is ours."

"The day is a fucking disaster," she moaned miserably, her face still buried in her hands. "I miscarried."