No. I don’t, I admitted humbly. And hence I cannot explain myself to you. Nettle. All I can offer you is this. What is between your father and brother is between your father and brother. Do not let it stand between you and either of them, difficult as that might be. Do not lose faith in either of them. Or stop loving either of them.

“As if I could,” she said bitterly. “If I could stop loving them, I could stop grieving for what they do to each other.”

And there we left it as I faded from her dream. There was no comfort for me in such contact with my daughter and very little comfort for her, I am sure. Her worry became mine. Burrich had always been strict, yet fair within his own sense of fairness. He had often been rough with me, but never harsh. An irritated cuff, an impatient shove he might have given, but he had seldom beaten me. The few thrashings I had suffered at his hands had been intended to teach a lesson, never to harm me. The times he had physically punished me I now saw as justified. Yet I feared that Swift would openly defy him as I had not, and I did not know what effect that would have on the man. He believed that one boy entrusted to his care had died horribly because he had failed to beat the Wit out of him. Would he see it as his duty to protect his own son from a similar fate, no matter how harsh he must be to do it? I feared for them both, and had no outlet for that worry.

At dawn of the fourth day, I awoke feeling stronger and restless. Today, I decided, I was well enough to get out and move around the keep a bit. It was time for me to resume my life. I took the feathers from beneath my pillow. I went down to Tom Badgerlock’s chamber to get some fresh clothing. I had scarcely closed the door to the hidden staircase behind me before there was a tap on the connecting door. I reached it in two steps and opened it. Lord Golden took a startled step backward. “Well, I suppose he is awake after all. And dressed, too, I see. So. Are you feeling more yourself, Tom Badgerlock?”

“A bit,” I replied, trying to look past him to discover for whom this mummery was intended. I barely had time to take in the shock on his face as he stared at my renewed scars before Hap almost shouldered him aside to get to me. My boy seized me by the shoulders and stared up at me in horror.

“You look terrible. Go back to bed, Tom.” Then, almost without drawing breath, he turned to Lord Golden. “Sir, I beg your pardon. You were right, I had thought that you were deceiving me as to how ill he was. But you were right to keep all visitors from his door. I see that now. I most humbly beg your pardon for my ill words.”

Lord Golden gave a small harumph. “Well. I scarcely expect court manners from a country boy, and I understand that you have been sore worried about your father. So, little as I have enjoyed your rousing me at such ungodly hours, nor your churlish manners when I forbade you access to Tom, I shall forgive your behavior. And I’m sure that you will both excuse me while you enjoy your visit.”

He turned away from us and left us alone in my small chamber. It did not take much urging from Hap to get me to sit down on the low bed. The long trek down Chade’s winding stairs had tired me. Hap kept one hand on my shoulder as he sat down beside me. His gaze wandered over my face, and he squinted in pity at my gauntness. “I’m so glad to see you,” he said tightly. For a moment longer he stared at me, face taut with some emotion. Then his eyes brimmed suddenly and he buried his face in both his hands and rocked back and forth on my bed. “Tom, I thought you were going to die,” he managed to say through his fingers. And then he sat panting, fighting the sobs that threatened to overtake him. I put my arm around his shoulders and hugged him close. The dry sobs broke from him. He was suddenly my boy again, and very frightened he had been. He spoke in gasps. “I’ve been here before dawn every day since they brought you here, and every day Lord Golden has told me that you were too weak for visitors. At first, I tried to be patient, but the last few days—” He gulped suddenly. “I’ve been very rude to him, Tom. I was horrid. I hope he won’t take it out on you. It was just—”

I spoke by his ear, calmly and reassuringly. “I’ve been very ill, and my recovery is still slow. But I’m not going to die, son. Not this time. I’ll be here for you for some time yet. And Lord Golden has already told you that he forgives you. So. Don’t worry about any of that.”

He reached up to grip my hand tightly in both of his. After a moment, he straightened and turned to face me. Tears tracked his face. “I thought you would die and I’d never get the chance to tell you I was s-s-sorry. For how I behaved. I knew you’d nearly given up on me, in that you hardly spoke to me or came to see me anymore. And then you were hurt, and I could not get to you in that jail. Nor afterward, when they brought you up here. And all I could think was that you would die believing me both stupid and ungrateful for all you had done for me. You were right, you know. I should have listened to you. I wanted so badly to tell you that. You were right. And I’ve learned.”