This takes place during Orual's reign as queen of Glome, shortly after she rescues Bardia from death during battle. I do not own Till We Have Faces.

I did not realize I bled until Bardia came up to me.

He approached cautiously, as one would to an injured animal. "Queen, your enemies are vanquished. Come with me. We must get you to the physicians."

"Why?" The blood running down my arm congealed in a mess around my fingers and sword hilt. Irrationally I feared that the fluid would cause my fingers to stick to the weapon.

"I fear you are injured, Queen." Bardia came closer.

"I am?" I blinked hard, just now noticing that the men who attacked Bardia earlier were now lying on the ground in various states of injury. I traced the line of their destruction to the blade of my own sword and wondered. I could not recall the past few minutes, nor indeed could I think of what action to perform next. My mind plodded through recent events, struggling to make connections, but presently, I realized that my body ached.

"Queen." Bardia was there, easing the grip I had around my sword.

Without my weapon, I felt bare. "I am weary, Bardia."

"I know, Lady."

I am certain he said more, but at that moment I made the mistake of looking down. The wound in my side was not terribly deep, as I learned later, but the way the blood steadily flowed from my torso along with the dried crusty edges around the wound made me recognize the weakness that had been plaguing me for much of the battle but refused to acknowledge. There was no recovery. I barely felt Bardia catch me as I fell off of my horse.

A beggar woman knelt before me. I could not recall her name, nor could I remember her reason for coming into my court. Her face was bowed, hidden from my view by a veil. "State your case, woman. I shall do my best to meet your need with justice and mercy."

"What would you know of justice and mercy, Faceless One?"

That voice.

My fingers tightened on the arms of my throne. "If you did not come here for my judgment then why are you here? I have precious little time to waste on mere pleasantries."

"No, you have little time for anyone unless they meet with you on your terms. Everything must happen in accordance with your preferences, mustn't it?"

I glanced around, hoping my guard would take notice of the rudeness of this peasant and remove her. A cold shock went down my spine when I realized that there was no one else in the room. In fact, the throne room itself seemed to have changed. Where once there were walls, now stood mirrors, as tall and clear as the one my father kept at the back of the room.

My gaze turned back to the woman. With a start, I realized that she had moved. Now she only stood a few paces in front of me and, though I could not distinguish her features, I could see the dark sparkle of her eyes as she stared at me. I clung to my courage though. I was a king's daughter, a queen in my own right. I would not shrink back from one simple woman. "Who are you? What have you done to my guard?"

"Where is your charity, good queen?" Though the words were respectful, her tone dripped with disdain. "Justice and mercy you claim to have, but what of charity? I see none, I hear of none, you destroy what you touch and care not for the consequences."

My chest felt tight. Her voice, despite its bitterness, was familiar to me, so achingly familiar. But it could not be. "Who are you to speak such venom to me? I did what I had to - you have no idea of the cost - "

"What cost? You had no price to pay. You let your sister take all of the blame - she is the one who wanders, she alone."

Anger burned in my heart. I would not be scolded, I would not be judged for something I had no control over. "I did what I had to out of love. Love has to be stronger than personal preferences or fancied romances - and I did not know, how could I know? If my love was misconstrued -"

"Love?" The woman laughed and jabbed a crooked finger in my direction. "Your love is no better than famine. It drains, it poisons, there is no life to be found in your love. There was no misconstruing your love - you had none to offer!"

"Lies!" I screamed. "You will speak to me no more. Who are you to blame me? Wretch, let me see your face!"

I yanked the veil off of her face and drew back in horror. The skin was horribly disfigured. It made my own complexion beautiful by comparison. But even in its hideousness I could recognize the face, for how could I not? That face I tried so hard to forget, pressed deep within my subconscious, yet it was always at the fringes of my memory, straining to break free.

"Psyche."

"Do not speak my name! I am no Psyche, not anymore. You cursed me to a life of bitterness and hard labor. I am no Psyche. I am no Istra. I am nameless, faceless, like you."

I stood up, despite the pain the words caused me. I had to make her understand. She had to know my reasons, she had to know. "Psyche, do not scream. Listen to me -"

"I will not listen! I will not!" She stopped up her ears with both hands and rushed from the room.

I could not even see where she made her exit. There were no doors in the room, nothing but mirrors, and as I took a few steps forward to follow my sister, I found myself paralyzed by the thought of facing all of those reflections. But I could not avoid it. I stepped forward again, my eyes drawn toward the mirrors.

I caught a glimpse of black, the scent of blood, the holiness, the horror - I screamed.

"Babai! Stay still, it is alright. It is only a dream."

The Fox and some of my women tried to calm me as I twisted in their grip. His voice was deep, soothing, but I could only concentrate on him for so long, for another sound surged up behind it - weeping. That terrible weeping.

"Psyche!" I gasped.

"Shush, child, calm yourself. It is a dream, nothing more, you are safe."

"But she is crying. Can you not hear her? Will nothing stop that incessant weeping?" I clapped my hands over my ears, but no matter how hard I pressed, that haunting wail seeped through my fingers. It would not be silenced.

There were murmurs, but I could not pay them enough attention to discern what they were saying.

It is the chains, that is all. The chains. But oh! How that weeping pierced me to the core, along with the memory of Psyche's face - twisted and hideous, burning with anger and betrayal. Why did the gods torment me so?

I chanced taking one of my hands away from my ears to snatch at the Fox. His weathered grip sustained me - soft, dark eyes tinted with concern. "Babai, you are feverish. They are getting medicine for you, rest if you can."

I shook my head. Sweat trickled down my forehead and into my hair, making my neck tickle uncomfortably. "The chains, make them stop."

"What chains?"

"The chains...the weeping...I cannot..."

A cup was pressed to my lips.

The Fox reassured me. "Drink, it will help you."

As soon as the liquid hit my mouth, thick and sticky, I recalled Psyche's words "they gave me a sweet, sticky stuff to drink - a drug, as I guess - for soon after I had swallowed it everything went dreamlike, and more and more so for a long time." Would the gods never leave me alone? Must everything come back to my sister?

I turned my head, spilling some of the liquid on my chest. It joined with the sweat already there and caused my nightgown to cling unpleasantly to my skin.

Someone's hand pressed down on my head to still my movements. The cup was put to my lips again. The drink was sweet and unbearably syrupy. It clung to the roof of my mouth before sliding down my throat. They forced it all down and before they took the cup away from me, my eyelids were heavy.

I am sure the Fox tried to say something else to me, but I was already asleep.

I could tell by the light in my room that it must be sometime in the afternoon. I let my eyes wander about the area. All was still, quiet. A glance to my right assured me that Poobi had stayed with me throughout the night. The poor girl lay curled up in a chair, fast asleep.

A dull pain throbbed in my side, but it was not nearly as bad as it had been. I pushed down my covers to see that I had been dressed in a loose nightgown. Putting a hand to the fabric assured me that bandages were wrapped around my waist.

I had never made a good patient. I simply could not bear to lie in a bed all day - not while there was work to be found. And though there was no work as such available for me, yesterday's hallucinations assured me that action had to be taken.

It took more strength than I predicted to get out of bed, but I managed it in the end and all without waking my maid. Draping a light shawl over my shoulders, I crept out of my room. I had to stop often to catch my breath. The more I walked, the more the pain manifested its presence. But I made it outside undetected and each bitter footstep took me close to my destination.

It sat there quite harmlessly in the daylight - a simple stone wall, the long chain attached to the bucket swinging gently in the breeze.

I stopped, placing my hands on the stone and staring down into the well. The clanking did not resemble weeping out here in the daylight where I could see what caused the sound and assure myself of its source.

I wrapped my fingers around the chain and shook it. The sound made me flinch. If I closed my eyes, if I stood a little farther off, I could hear in those chains the weeping of a girl. My original intent in coming out to the well now developed into settled conviction. I knew what had to be done.

"Queen, what are you doing up from your bed? You should not be moving. Your wound is still tender," Bardia's tone was stern. He had long since learned that gentleness often did not work on me.

I turned to face him. I realized as I looked at his ragged face that I had never ascertained his well-being after risking my life to save his. "Are you well, Bardia?"

A wry smile came over his face. "It is not my welfare you need concern yourself with, Lady. I fear if you do not rest soon you will aggravate your injuries and risk getting an infection. Please come back inside."

"In a moment." I turned back to the well. "We have a stone quarry not far from the palace, do we not?"

"Yes, my lady." I could hear the confusion in his voice. "Do you have a need for stone?"

"I wish to have a hutch built around this well." I did not look at him as I made my request. I knew it was a strange command, one whose motivations would only be understood by me. But being my father's daughter served me well in this respect: my eccentricities were mild and harmless compared to his.

Bardia was not one to leave without determining a valid reason. "This well, my lady? I assure you, if you are concerned that it will dry up, there is no need to build such a hutch. This well has been around for hundreds of years. There is little need to fear that it will not continue to serve us faithfully."

"Nay, that is not my reasoning."

"Then what, my Queen?"

I paused then, glancing back at that faithful man. I trusted Bardia with much, with our kingdom's greatest secrets and even some of my own fears and desires. But the one thing we could never discuss with any good grace or rationality between the two of us was that of Psyche and her fate. Ever since our trip to the Mountain, Bardia refused to talk about my sister - partly because of my own decrees, but also because he knew that we would disagree. Though I longed to tell him of my strange dreams, my phantoms, I could not. I feared he would turn from me, tell me I had angered the gods somehow, and that I must now make sacrifices in order to earn their forgiveness.

I loved my god-fearing captain, but there were things I could not tell him. "Call it a fancy of mine. Not many kingdoms can afford to have a building for their own well."

Bardia did not look convinced. He was far too wise to believe my story. He knew me too well. But he also knew when not to press. "Very well, Lady, I will fetch the mason today, if you wish."

"Please do. Tell him I want the walls to be a foot thick."

"A foot?" Even he could not contain his surprise at my specifications.

"Yes and now, I am weary. I wish to go inside," I cut off any further questions by proceeding slowly to the door. Bardia followed close behind to insure that I would not fall.

When we reached my chambers, Poobi stood just outside the doors looking distraught. "Oh Lady! Why do you strain yourself so? When I could not find you, I feared something terrible had happened."

"I am well, simply weary."

Bardia took his leave of us and Poobi helped me get back into my bed. I did not realize until I was back under the covers just how taxing the journey had been. I was hardly settled before I fell asleep.

Blessedly, I had no dreams that afternoon.

My peace did not last long. When I woke up later that night, the fire guttered in the fireplace. A terrible storm howled outside. Poobi was at the windows, trying to secure the latches to the shutters so that they would not blow open.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Well after midnight, Lady."

"Help me sit up."

Once my back rested against the pillows, I sent her to fetch me something light to eat for I found I was terribly hungry. I watched the flames in the fireplace sputter and snap. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone move. I figured it was Poobi returning, but when I focused on the area, nothing but deep shadows greeted me.

"Who is there?"

"You also shall be Psyche," The voice, which could be no louder than a whisper, echoed through the room and caused my flesh to crawl. If I focused on the shadows long enough, I could almost make out that sad, veiled figure from my nightmares.

"Leave me alone! I have nothing to give you, what more can you take from me?"

But the next instant a flash of lightning lit up the room and the figure was gone. Instead Poobi stood in the doorway, holding a tray of food and staring at me in concern.

I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment, but I refused to give an explanation for my actions.

She brought the food over for me.

"Teach me that game you play, Poobi. The one with the beads," I said as I began to eat the brown bread on the tray.

"But I thought you did not like it, Lady."

"I could use the distraction. I doubt I will sleep much tonight."

We played until dawn came.

Bardia did not send for the mason until I was well enough to get out of bed and talk to him myself. I knew part of the reason was that my request was so strange, it was better made in person. But I also fancied that Bardia could tell I wished to be involved in this project personally.

The mason was far less polite about his incredulity than my captain about the amount of stone I wished to use.

"I assure you, my Queen, there is no need for the walls to be a foot thick. Half a foot, even a quarter of a foot would suffice to hedge in the area."

"A foot thick if you please, mason, not an inch smaller." I left him to gape. As I headed back to the throne room, the chains clinked - a soft, hollow wail. I increased my pace.

That day, the first few stones were laid around the well, a bare foundation, but enough to begin to ease my discomfort. But as night approached, I could hear the chains and the weeping even more clearly, as if Psyche were begging me not to shut her up in the stone.

The sound grew to be unbearable. So much so, in fact, that I made Poobi gather a few blankets and pillows and follow me to the room farthest from the well. I doubted it would do any good, for I had tried all of the rooms before, but I had to do something.

We made a comfortable nest of blankets on one of the couches in the room and Poobi curled up on the ground next to my feet. And still the faint whimpering of a girl haunted me.

Off in the corner of the room, I thought I could discern the shadowy figure of Psyche again. She did not speak this time, she wore no veil, but her face was all the more dreadful for the lack of covering. She wept, one hand covering her mouth, the other extended towards me.

I fastened my eyes on Poobi's slumbering form and covered my ears with the thick blankets. These poor mufflers did little to help, but eventually I drifted off to sleep.

As the building of the hutch continued for the next few weeks, my injuries healed, but my visions of Psyche grew stronger. It was as if the more I tried to seal her away, the more she fought to break free. If I was to be any good as a ruler, I must forget my sister or I would go mad.

As if she sensed my intent, the night before the mason and his workers would put the door and thatch on the hutch, Psyche came to me once more. This time, she was no haunting specter. She was as alive and beautiful as the last time I saw her. No, more so, for she lacked the sadness and anger that adorned her features at our parting. This sudden appearance hurt more than all of the terrible wailings and visions she had presented to me over the last few weeks.

I stared at her and she at me and neither could think of anything to say. Her calm eyes burned me. "What do you want, ghostling? I will finish my wall. Nothing you can say will stop me."

She tilted her head to the side in that familiar way of hers whenever she was curious. "Why do you forget me, sister?"

"Because I must."

"Must you?"

"Yes. You will accuse me no longer. We are both of us lost, but we must move on. I cannot rule a country with you dogging my comings and goings every step of the way."

Those beautiful eyes filled with tears and the sight broke my heart. "So you lock me away?"

I wanted to protest, to rationalize my actions. But then my good sense came to my rescue and reminded me that, no matter what I saw or heard, it was a hallucination, nothing more.

"Hallucination? Do I look imagined to you?"

I opened eyes I did not realize I had closed. Psyche stood a few feet in front of me. Her skin glowed with health. Indeed, I was tempted to reach out and touch her, for she looked so real. "Yes, despite my best efforts, I can do nothing but conjure up your image now. My sister is dead and you are nothing but a shade of her - one that I cannot even do justice to. All my sad representations could never capture my Psyche. I will lock all these imaginings away. I will think no more of you. You must be gone."

"And what if I do not leave?"

"You will." I knew this for certain. As soon as I sealed up that hutch, Psyche would be gone forever. That realization made this moment all the more poignant. This would be the last time I would see her face, hear her voice. Real or imagined, she would be gone. "Will you not say a kind word for me now, here at the end? Despite what you may think, I did love you."

But my shade would give me no respite. "You want to be rid of me. If you loved me at all, you would not be so quick to forget."

"Quick?" I laughed at that. "Do you think all of these years have passed so fleetingly for me? In every spare moment that I have had, do you think that I have not seemed to hear your voice or see your shadow only to turn and find you were not there? I long to be busy, for when those long nights come, my mind wanders down paths I do not wish to go. I have retraced our meetings to the point of making myself sick. I cannot mend the past. I am forced to live in the present and I can only pray that the future will be more lenient. My Istra, my Psyche, you do not know what I would give to have you as you once were - before the sacrifice, before the gods, before everything. But that option is not available to me, so what choice do I have? Say goodbye and leave me in peace."

I did not realize that as I spoke, Psyche's apparition grew fainter and fainter. Now as I looked at her, I could barely make out her features.

"Goodbye." The whisper was faint. If I had not been watching her, I could have mistaken it for a gust of wind. At that word, she faded away entirely.

I was left alone for the first time in years.

The next day, Bardia, the Fox, and I all watched as the door and thatch roof were put on the hutch. They did not ask me my reasons for wanting to see the finish of this building, nor did they hesitate in accompanying me.

As the mason closed the door, I thought I heard the sound of the girl again. The door shut.

That night, no weeping disturbed my rest.