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grief. “He sacrificed all to get you away,” he’d said fiercely. “Don’t make it be for nothing.”
    Shortly after they’d sailed out the mouth of Kalladorne Bay, the galley ship captain had distributed Abramm’s letters, one for his First Minister, one for his sister, and the last for his beloved wife. Maddie had read hers in the privacy of the galley ship’s stern cabin, her heart breaking on words that erased all doubt of what he’d intended to do.
    Abramm had been typically thorough in his arrangements. His wife and sister were each provided a small but comfortable cabin and a lady’s maid. Their galley was escorted by three attendant vessels, each loaded, as was their flagship, with trade goods—and ten iron-bound strongboxes of gold, still bearing the mark of the Briarcreek Garrison—to support them in Chesedh.
    She suspected Abramm was also the impetus for Trap’s startling proposal of marriage to Carissa, and possibly even Carissa’s equally startling acceptance. The ship’s captain had performed the ceremony on the foredeck two days out from Kiriath, with Maddie, their maids, and the crew as witnesses. Baby Conal had been born a week later.
    Abramm had also informed Maddie that he’d assigned Captain Channon to search for their sons, who he’d believed had escaped alive. Though she had long since resigned herself to Ian’s death, having seen Simon elude his captors, and knowing that Elayne had escaped in the fracas, as well, she’d clung to the hope Abramm was right. But when they reached Fannath Rill and neither Simon nor Channon were there to meet her, she saw the truth of the matter. If Simon lived at all, he was in the Gadrielites’ care, his name and heritage stripped from him as they worked to turn his young mind to their cause. Which was worse by far than believing him dead.
    She had ordered Trap, who managed her finances and the personal guard he insisted she keep round her constantly, to send someone to find him, and of course he obliged. But he held little hope for success, and as time passed she’d been forced to accede he was right.
    Abramm, Simon, Ian . . . They were all gone. The worst thing that could possibly happen had happened. Despite her desperate appeals, despite her fierce trust that Eidon, in his goodness, would never do such a thing to her . . . he had done it. The one thing she thought she could not live through she had—for each new day dawned and here she was, still alive. All the truth she had ever learned now became her only lifeline. And part of that truth was that those who served the Light would suffer as their Lord had suffered. And as he had endured, so could they, using the same power that had enabled him. When Eidon’s servants endured and kept on trusting, it spoke to rhu’ema and luima both, as no outpouring of blessing ever could.
    Her husband had already done it. Tortured to recant his faith, he had refused to the point of giving up his life. Her calling was different. It was to bear up under this loss, not to wallow in self-pity nor be consumed by bitterness. To keep recalling what she knew to be true—that Eidon was worthy of her trust—and go on with her life.
    And so she had—day by day, step by step—until one morning something had moved in her belly and she realized with a shiver of awe that she’d not had her monthly courses for some time. It was in that moment that she knew beyond any doubt that Eidon loved her. That he had not forgotten nor neglected nor abused her. He had taken away. But he had also given. . . .
    And in that she had found her peace, still intermittent, to be sure, but a haven to which she always found her way back.
    Outside, the morning had acquired a pinkish cast as fragile fingers of smoke reached for the sky from the ranks of tile roofs across the river. To the east, golden rays of light speared across the pale mauve as the sun’s first rays burst through the tattered edge of the cloud bank crouching on the eastern