“Nnngh...” Feeling is coming back. The only problem is that it is the sort of feeling of unfolding your leg from underneath you and having the blood rush back in. Redana has always imagined tiny little needles under her skin, throbbing as they stick in place, until her blood melts the pain away. But that feeling isn’t going away this time, so all she can do is grit her teeth and try not to squirm. It’s agonizingly ticklish. The infirmary is a small circle of lantern-light. Beyond it stretches rows on rows of folded cots, ready to accommodate dozens of injured marines and sailors, unused in the darkness. There are small, hard pillows tucked under her back and piled beneath her leg. She is under firm orders from Dolce to not get out of bed, not to walk on it, and to let her divine blessings counteract the curse long enough for it to heal normally. (The curse. Those weapons were meant to leave unhealing wounds. Even her nanites can only deny that power, not unmake it completely.) She’s alone, now. Epistia is sleeping on the other side of the door, scythe resting on her lap, still unsmiling. Nothing is entering the infirmary without her say-so. And that’s sweet, but the vast dark of the rusting, moldering room is starting to... ugh. It’s a room. Another room she’s not allowed to leave. And there’s nothing to [i]do.[/i] Her Auspex peels back walls, showing her: a Magus squeezing through vents (wow, that’s what’s under the robes?) and a statue on patrol, ship-rats scuttling and gnawing on plating, and far far beyond, the raging heart of a star that fuels the [i]Plousios.[/i] She stares without a choice, without seeing. *** [i] Hush-a-bye, princess, I’ll give you a moon all strung with pearls a bouquet of worlds and morning will be here soon[/i] Her face aches. The numbing injections are wearing off and her socket [i]itches.[/i] The thing keeps sending numbers and measurements and calculations straight to her brain and it’s too much, it’s a muddled mess shouted at her in a foreign language of mathematics and statistics, and she doesn’t want to know the atomic weight of her palace walls or the estimated wealth per capita of the planet or the dread shapes of the gods moving through all things. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and her arms are wrapped around them and she’s shaking. It’s so bad. And it’s got to get worse before it gets better, that’s what they told her, the priests and doctors and surgeons. It’s got to get worse before it gets better. [i] Hush, little princess, your Bella is here all through the night til morning light shows you there’s nothing to fear[/i] She can feel the breath moving through Bella. One ear is smooshed against her lacy apron, but her song is still clear as the water in the little garden stream. Her voice is so pretty. It’s the prettiest thing in the whole wide world. Her fingers are so soft. They stroke gently over one cheek, staying well away from that throbbing socket, wiping away the tears that seep out from around that glittering sapphire. She’s here. She’s here and she’s never getting taken away. Please. Please, Mommy. You can take away her toys and her privileges and her eye but please don’t take her Bella away. [i] Sleep, o my princess, and please do not cry one day you will see a silly kitten like me will always wipe the tears from your eyes.[/i] *** Redana Claudius closes her eyes and shakes. It’s completely silent in the dark, cavernous infirmary as Bella breaks her promise.