Something in the confrontation had stirred Shrewd to a shadow of his old self. He pushed himself up in bed and looked about himself. “The Fool has likewise made these complaints, in his own acid way—” he began.

Wallace dared to interrupt him. “My lord, the state of your health has been tender. Sometimes uninterrupted rest is more important than rolling you out of your bed to fuss with a change of blankets or linen. And a dish or two stacked about is less annoyance than the rattle and prattle of a page come in to tidy.”

King Shrewd looked suddenly uncertain. My heart smote me. This was what the Fool had wished me to see, why he had so often urged me to visit the King. Why had not he spoken more plainly? But then, when did the Fool ever speak plainly? Shame rose in me. This was my king, the King I had sworn to. I loved Verity, and my loyalty to him was unquestioning. But I had abandoned my king at the very moment when he needed me most. Chade was gone, for how long I did not know. I had left King Shrewd with no more than the Fool to protect him. And yet when had King Shrewd ever needed anyone to shelter him before? Always that old man had been more than capable of guarding himself. I chided myself that I should have been more emphatic with Chade about the changes I noted when I first returned home. I should have been more watchful of my sovereign.

“How did he get in here?” Regal suddenly demanded with a savage glare at me.

“My prince, he had a token from the King himself, he claimed. He said the King had promised always to see him if he but showed that pin—”

“What rot! You believed such nonsense—”

“Prince Regal, you know it is true. You were witness when King Shrewd first gave it to me.” I spoke quietly but clearly. Within me, Verity was silent, waiting and watching, and learning much. At my expense, I thought bitterly, and then strove to call back the thought.

Moving calmly and unthreateningly, I pulled one wrist free of a bulldog’s grip. I turned back the collar of my jerkin and drew the pin out. I held it up for all to see.

“I recall no such thing,” Regal snapped, but Shrewd sat up.

“Come closer, boy,” he instructed me. Now I shrugged clear of my guards and tugged my clothing straight. Then I bore the pin up to the King’s bedside. Deliberately, King Shrewd reached out. He took the pin away from me. My heart sank inside me.

“Father, this is—” Regal began annoyedly, but Shrewd interrupted him.

“Regal. You were there. You do recall it, or you should.” The King’s dark eyes were bright and alert as I remembered them, but also plain were the lines of pain about those eyes and the corner of his mouth. King Shrewd fought for this lucidity. He held the pin up and looked at Regal with a shadow of his old calculating glance. “I gave the boy this pin. And my word, in exchange for his.”

“Then I suggest you take them back again, pin and word both. You will never get well with this type of disruption going on in your rooms.” Again, that edge of command in Regal’s voice. I waited, silent.

The King lifted a hand to shakily rub his face and eyes. “I gave those things,” he said, and the words were firm, but the strength was fading from his voice. “Once given, a man’s word is no longer his to call back. Am I right about this, FitzChivalry? Do you agree that once a man has given his word, he may not take it back?” The old test was in that question.

“As ever I have, my king, I agree with you. Once a man has given his word, he may not call it back. He must abide by what he has promised.”

“Good, then. That’s settled. It’s all settled.” He proffered the pin to me. I took it from him, relief so immense it was like vertigo. He leaned back into his pillows. I had another dizzying moment. I knew those pillows, this bed. I had lain there, and looked with the Fool down on the sack of Siltbay. I had burned my fingers in that fireplace….

The King heaved a heavy sigh. There was exhaustion in it. In another moment he would be asleep.

“Forbid him to come and disturb you again, unless you summon him,” Regal commanded.

King Shrewd pried his eyes open one more time. “Fitz. Come here, boy.”

Like a dog, I came closer to him. I knelt by his bed. He lifted a thinned hand, patted me awkwardly. “You and I, boy. We have an understanding, don’t we?” A genuine question. I nodded. “Good lad. Good. I’ve kept my word. You see that you keep yours, now. But”—he glanced at Regal, and that pained me—“it were better if you came to see me in the afternoons. I am stronger in the afternoons.” He was slipping away again.