Filled with shame, I caught the Queen’s mantle as, with the promise of the quick ministry of slaves, she turned to leave me.
“My friend!” I said, in an agony of fear. “Tell me of his fate.”
“He lives,” Lah answered.
“Unhurt?”
“Unhurt—as yet.”
“And she—Astolba?”
The Queen’s eyes narrowed, but she spoke calmly.
“She lives also, but the feast of Edba is at hand.”
“When?” I asked, shuddering; for I could not conceal the horror of my soul.
“To-night. At the sixth hour I will come for thee. Meanwhile rest quietly; be warmed, be fed. Thou hast my promise; thou shalt see all.”