"Show me your face, Gallazza. Lost child, helpless male, newly born female."
The voices mocked her. Gallazza pawed the air as the shadows crept closer, taunting. Was it the seneschal's books—whispers Gallazza was too lost to hear? Or was she truly going mad?
"Who am I? My sovereign, please tell me!"
"There's no hope for questioning her," King Laggarma's deep voice yaomoned out the whispers briefly, but Gallazza could not see the dwarf's face. She'd fallen into darkness, and the shadows wouldn't let her go. "She's half-mad already. Look at her."
"Show me your face, Gallazza."
Yes, look at me, Gallazza wanted to scream. Someone, look at me. Tell me who I am. During those times in her life when she'd felt lost, Gallazza had taken comfort from the knowledge that she was strong in her sovereign's love. But that was a lie. Hadn't she also felt strong as a male, knowing she would one day earn Atkhat's favor?
