She tries to tell herself that she doesn't know the child growing in her is His. It could be Louis's, after all. But she knows from His mind that she is to have no more children; even if her unborn child is Louis', history has been changed."Pourquoi?" she whispers, hoping some merciful god (or alien, or whatever) will hear her even if He cannot. "Comment?"
It's not supposed to work like this. He didn't know that He hadn't when He went with her to her bed, and that is supposed to be enough. There was the chance that His seed would not come to grow inside her. No, not a chance, the certainty--because He already knew what would happen. The timeline was supposed to preserve itself, so long as He made no deliberate effort to change it. This wasn't supposed to happen.
And it is His child, not Louis's. She knows this with all her being, can feel the mind of her unborn child just as she once felt the mind of the Doctor. Her child, half-human and half-Time Lord, a child who should not exist, whose very being is infused with paradox. She glances up at the icon of an angel beside the altar and thinks, not for the first time: where are the vortisaurs, the chronovores, the reapers ready to consume time itself? The palace is not all that old to be able to protect her, and besides, she has been outside its walls since she has discovered her pregnancy and still they do not come. It would be a relief, in a way, to let them tear time apart and devour it.
But something is preventing time from collapsing in upon itself under the weight of the contradiction, holding off paradox. Somewhere, somewhen, someone has built a paradox machine.
Which means there is only one thing left for her to do.
She walks across her bedroom and stands in front of her fireplace. She remembers the last timeHe passed through it. He was supposed to come back for her, to let her travel through the stars with Him. Even that should have left the timeline intact, so long as He returned Hernot too longer after He took her. But He has not come to her, and the timeline has been altered even without it, so she must go to Him.
She unfastens a broach on her dress. It is a sonic broach, fashioned to test the diagrams she saw in His mind. It seems to work for little things--no door in the palace is locked to her, now--but she has never before tested it in such a way as this. She holds it up to the fireplace and reconfigures it, breaking the link with the clockwork androids' ship. Reconnecting it with the paradox machine is no difficulty at all;the machineremakes all of time in relation to itself and its signal is thus easy to catch onto.
Having inserted the new coordinates into the fireplace, she ducks down and passes through it, into the unknown.