I had almost succeeded in mastering my grief, and now she tore the wound afresh. For a time I sat woodenly, numbed by pain. Why couldn’t she just leave it alone?
But she seemed not to notice my coldness. ‘The years pass, but you never forget a friend like him.’ She was speaking to herself, her head bowed into her hands. Her words came muffled and thick with tears. She rocked a little in her chair. ‘I’d never felt so close to an animal, before we travelled together. But in the long hours of walking, he was always there, ranging ahead and coming back and then checking behind us. He was like a shield for me, for when he came trotting back, I always knew that he was satisfied no danger awaited us. Without his assurance, I am sure my own poor courage would have failed a hundred times. When we began our journey, he seemed just a part of you. But then I got to know him for himself. His bravery and tenacity, even his humour. There were times, especially at the quarry, when we went off to hunt and he alone seemed to understand my feelings. It was not just that I could hold tight to him and cry into his fur and know he would never betray my weakness. It was that he rejoiced in my strengths, too. When we hunted together and I made a kill, I could feel his approval like … like a fierceness that said I deserved to survive, that I had earned my place in this world.’ She drew breath raggedly. ‘I think I will always miss him. And I didn’t even get to see him again before …’
My mind reeled. Truly, I had not known how close they had been. Nighteyes also had kept his secrets well. I had known that Queen Kettricken had a predilection for the Wit. I had sensed faint questing from her when she meditated. I had often suspected that her Mountain ‘connection’ with the natural world would have a less kindly name in the Six Duchies. But she and my wolf?
‘He spoke to you? You heard Nighteyes in your mind?’
She shook her head, not lifting her face from her hands. Her fingers muffled her reply. ‘No. But I felt him in my heart, when I was numb to all else.’
Slowly I rose. I walked around the small table. I had intended only to pat her bent shoulders, but when I touched her, she abruptly stood and stumbled into my embrace. I held her and let her weep against my shoulder. Whether I would or not, my own tears welled. Then her grief, not sympathy for me but true grief at Nighteyes’ death gave permission to mine, and my mourning ripped free. All the anguish I had been trying to conceal from those who could not understand the depth of loss I felt suddenly demanded vent. I think I only realized that our roles had changed when she pushed me gently down into her chair. She offered me her tiny, useless handkerchief and then gently kissed my brow and both my cheeks. I could not stop crying. She stood by me, my head cradled against her breast, and stroked my hair and let me weep. She spoke brokenly of my wolf and all he had been to her, words I scarcely heard.
She did not try to stop my tears or tell me that everything would be all right. She knew it would not. But when my weeping finally had run its course, she stooped and kissed me on my mouth, a healing kiss. Her lips were salt with her own tears. Then she stood straight again.
She gave a sudden deep sigh as if setting aside a burden. ‘Your poor hair,’ she murmured, and smoothed it to my head. ‘Oh, my dear Fitz. How hard we used you! Both of you. And I can never …’ She seemed to feel the uselessness of words. ‘But … well … drink your tea while it is still hot.’ She moved apart from me, and after a moment I felt I again had control of myself. As she took my chair, I lifted her cup and drank from it. The tea was still steaming hot. Only a short time had elapsed, yet I felt as if I had passed some important turning point. When I took a breath, it seemed to fill my lungs more deeply than it had in days. She took up my cup. When I looked up at my queen, she gave me a small smile. Her tears had left her pale eyes outlined in red, and her nose was pink. She had never looked lovelier to me.
So we shared some time. The tea was a spice tea, friendly and enlivening. There were flaky rolls stuffed with sausage, and little cakes with tart fruit filling, and plain oatcakes, simple and hearty. I don’t think either of us trusted our voices to speak, and we didn’t have to. We ate in silence. I got up once to replenish the hot water in the teapot. When the herbs had steeped, I poured more tea for both of us. After a time of silence, she leaned back in her chair and said quietly, ‘So, you see, this supposed “taint” in my son comes from me.’
She spoke it as if we were continuing a conversation. I had wondered if she would make the connection. Now that she did, I grieved for the guilt and chagrin I heard in her voice. ‘There have been Witted Farseers before Dutiful,’ I pointed out. ‘Myself among them.’
‘And you had a Mountain mother. It’s possible that she was the source of your Wit. Perhaps Mountain blood carries it.’
I walked perilously close to the edge of the truth as I said, ‘I consider it just as likely that Dutiful could have gotten the Wit from his father as his mother.’
‘But—’
‘But it matters little where it came from,’ I interrupted the Queen ruthlessly. I wanted to divert this conversation. ‘The boy has it, and that is what we must deal with. When he first asked me to teach him about it, I was horrified. Now I think his instincts were true. Better he know as much as I can teach him about both his magics.’
Her face lit up. ‘Then you have agreed to teach him!’
Truly, I was out of practice at intrigue. Or perhaps, I reflected wryly, over the years my lady had learned that subtlety and gentleness could win her secrets that even Chade’s deviousness had not pried from me. The accuracy with which she read my face seemed to support the second theory.
‘I will say nothing of it to the Prince. If he wishes it to remain private between you, then so it shall be. When will you start?’
‘At the Prince’s earliest convenience,’ I replied evasively. I would not tattle that he had already missed his first lesson.
She nodded at that, and seemed content to leave it to me. She cleared her throat. ‘FitzChivalry. The reason I summoned you here was my intent to … make things right for you. As much as we can. In so many ways, I cannot treat you as you deserve. But whatever we can do for your comfort or pleasure, I desire that we do. You masquerade as Lord Golden’s servant, and I understand all the reasons for this. Still, it chagrins me that a prince of your bloodlines should go unacknowledged amongst his own folk. So. What can we do? Would you like other chambers prepared for you, ones that you could reach privately and where you could have things arranged for your comfort?’
‘No,’ I replied quickly, and hearing the brusqueness of my reply, I added, ‘I think things are best as they are now. I am as comfortable as I need to be.’ I would live here but I could not make it a home. It was useless to try. That private thought jolted me. Home, I reflected, was a place shared. The loft over the stable with Burrich, or the cottage with Nighteyes and Hap. And the chambers that I now shared with the Fool? No. For there was too much caution in both of us, too much privacy preserved, too many constraints of roles.
‘… arranged for a monthly allowance. After this, Chade will see you receive it, but I wanted you to have this today.’
And my queen was setting a purse before me, a little bag of cloth embroidered with stylized flowers. It clinked sturdily as she placed it on the table. I flushed in spite of myself, and could not hide it. I looked up to find her cheeks equally pink.
‘It does feel awkward, doesn’t it? Make no mistake in this, FitzChivalry. This is not pay for what you have done for me and mine. No coin could ever pay for that. But a man has expenses, and it is not fitting that you should have to ask for what you need.’
I understood her, but I could not forbear from saying, ‘You and yours are also mine, my queen. And you are right. No amount of coin could
