I bit back my first response, reminding myself that he spoke as a prince speaks to a servant, not as a boy would address his father. Yet that brief moment of silence seemed to rebuke him as much as words would have. Not that he looked chastened, but I recognized the stubborn flex of his lips. I took a breath. “My prince, it has been scarcely two days since we returned. I had assumed that you would be very busy with the tasks of your reign. In the meantime, I resumed the chores of my own life. If it please my prince, I thought that you would summon me when you required me.”

“Why do you speak to me like this?” the Prince demanded angrily. “My prince this and my prince that! You didn’t address me in this fashion on our way home. What happened to our friendship?”

I saw the Fool’s warning in Lord Golden’s quick glance, but I ignored it. I kept my voice low and even as I answered. “If you rebuke me as you would a servant, my prince, then I assume that I am to respond in a style appropriate to my station.”

“Stop that!” Dutiful hissed at me, as if I had mocked him. I suppose in truth that I had. The result was awful. For a moment, his face tightened as if he were on the verge of tears. He spurred ahead of us, and we let him go. Lord Golden gave me a minuscule shake of his head, and then nodded at me that I should catch up with the lad. I debated making the Prince pull in and wait for us, then decided that perhaps he could not bend so far. A boy’s pride can be very stiff.

I let Myblack move up alongside the trotting gray as she wished, but before I could speak to Dutiful, he addressed me. “I’ve started this all wrong. I’m beleaguered and frustrated. These last two days have been horrible . . . just horrible. I’ve had to behave with perfect courtesy even when I wanted to shout, and smilingly accept flowery compliments on a situation I wish to flee. Everyone expects me to be happy and excited. I’ve heard enough ribald tales about wedding nights to gag a goat. No one knows or cares about my loss. No one even noticed my cat was gone. I have no one that I can speak to about it.” He suddenly choked. He abruptly pulled his horse to a halt and turned in his saddle to face me. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I apologize, Tom Badgerlock.”

The bluntness of his words and the honest offering of his hand were so like Verity that I knew it was truly his spirit that had fathered this boy. I felt humbled. I gravely gripped the offered hand, then pulled him close enough that I could set a hand to his shoulder. “It’s too late to apologize,” I told him seriously. “I’ve already forgiven you.” I took a breath as I released him. “And I have felt as badgered, my lord, and it has shortened my own temper. So many tasks have fallen to me lately that I’ve scarcely had time to see my own boy. I’m sorry I did not seek you out sooner. I am not sure how we can arrange our meetings without making others aware that I teach you, but you are right. It must be done, and putting it off will not make it easier.”

The Prince’s face had gone very still at my words. I sensed a sudden distancing in him but could not perceive the cause until he asked quietly, “Your ‘own boy’?”

His inflection puzzled me. “My foster son, Hap. He is apprenticed to a woodworker in Buckkeep Town.”

“Oh.” The single word seemed to fade into silence. Then, “I did not know you had a son.”

The jealousy was courteously masked but it rang green against my sense of him. I did not know how to react to it. I gave him the truth. “I’ve had him since he was eight or so. His mother abandoned him and he had no other folk willing to take him in. He’s a good lad.”

“But he is not truly your son,” the Prince pointed out.

I took a breath and replied firmly, “In every way that matters, he is a son to me.”

Lord Golden sat his horse at the outskirts of our circle. I dared not glance to him for advice. After a time of silence, the Prince tightened his knees and his horse moved forward at a walk. I let Myblack pace him. I was aware of the Fool dawdling along behind us. Just when I thought I must break the silence before it became a wall between us, Dutiful blurted out, “Then what need have you of me, if you already have a son of your own?”

The hunger in his voice shocked me. I think he startled himself, for he suddenly kicked his horse into a trot and rode ahead of me again. I made no effort to catch up with him until the Fool at my side whispered, “Go after him. Don’t let him close himself off from you. You should know by now how easy it is to lose a person, just by letting someone walk away from you.” Even so, I think it was more the prompting of my own heart that made me set my heels to Myblack and catch up with the boy. For boy he very much looked now, chin held firm, eyes straight ahead as he trotted along. He did not look at me as I came alongside him, but I knew he listened when I spoke.