We rode for the gates. “We should be able to catch up with Queen Kettricken before she reaches the coast road,” Burrich was saying just as a guardsman stepped out to bar our way.

“Hold!” he commanded, his voice breaking on the word.

Our horses reared back in alarm. We reined in. “What’s this?” Burrich demanded.

The man stood firm. “You may pass, sir,” he told Burrich respectfully. “But I have orders that the Bastard is not allowed out of Buckkeep.”

“The Bastard?” I had never heard such outrage in Burrich’s voice. “Say ‘FitzChivalry, son of Prince Chivalry.’”

The man gaped at him in astonishment.

“Say it now!” Burrich bellowed, and pulled steel. He suddenly seemed twice as large as he had. Anger radiated from him in waves I could feel.

“FitzChivalry, son of Prince Chivalry,” the man babbled. He took a breath and swallowed. “But however I call him, I have my orders. He is not allowed out.”

“Not an hour ago I heard our queen command us to ride with her, or to catch up as swiftly as we might. Do you say your order is superior to hers?”

The man looked uncertain. “One moment, sir.” He stepped back into the guardhouse.

Burrich snorted. “Whoever trained him ought to be ashamed. He relies entirely on our honor to keep us from riding through.”

“Maybe he just knows you,” I suggested.

Burrich glared at me. After a moment the captain of the watch came out. He grinned at us. “Ride well, and best of luck at Neatbay.”

Burrich flung him something between a salute and a farewell, and we urged our horses through. I let Burrich choose the pace. It was dark, but once we were down the hill, the road was straight and good and there was a bit of a moon. Burrich was as reckless as I had ever seen him, for he put the horses to a canter and kept up the pace until we saw the Queen’s guard ahead of us. He slowed us just short of joining them. I saw them turn to recognize us, and one soldier raised a hand in greeting.

“A pregnant mare, in early pregnancy, does well to be exercised.” He looked over at me through the darkness. “I don’t know that much about women,” he said hesitantly.

I grinned at him. “And you think I do?” I shook my head and grew sober. “I don’t know. Some women don’t ride at all when they are carrying. Some do. I think Kettricken would not put Verity’s child at risk. Besides. She is safer with us here than left behind with Regal.”

Burrich said nothing, but I sensed his assent. It was not all I sensed.

We hunt together again at last!

Quietly! I warned him with a sideways glance at Burrich. I kept my thoughts tiny and private. We go far. Will you be able to keep pace with the horses?

Over a short distance they can outspeed me. But nothing outdistances the trotting wolf.

Burrich stiffened slightly in his saddle. I knew Nighteyes was off to the side of the road, trotting through the shadows. It did feel good to be out and alongside him again. It felt good to be out and doing things. It was not that I rejoiced at Neatbay being attacked; it was that at last I would have a chance to do something about it, even if it was only to clean up whatever was left standing. I glanced over at Burrich. Anger radiated from him.

“Burrich?” I ventured.

“It’s a wolf, isn’t it?” Burrich spoke grudgingly into the darkness. He looked straight ahead as we rode. I knew the set of his mouth.

You know I am. A grinning, tongue-lolling reply.

Burrich flinched as if poked.

“Nighteyes,” I admitted quietly, rendering the image of his name into human words. Dread sat me. Burrich had sensed him. He knew. No point in denying anything anymore. But there was a tiny edge of relief in it as well. I was deathly tired of all the lies I lived. Burrich rode on silently, not looking at me. “I did not intend for it to happen. It just did.” An explanation. Not an apology.

I gave him no choice. Nighteyes was being very jocular about Burrich’s silence.

I put my hand on Sooty’s neck, took comfort in the warmth and life there. I waited. Burrich still said nothing. “I know you will never approve,” I said quietly. “But it is not something I can choose. It is what I am.”

It is what we all are. Nighteyes smirked. Come, Heart of the Pack, speak to me. Will not we hunt well together?

Heart of the Pack? I wondered.

He knows it is his name. It is what they called him, all those dogs that worshiped him, when they all gave tongue in the chase. It was what they taunted one another with. “Heart of the Pack, here, here, the game is here, and I have found it for you, for you!” So they all yelped and tried to be first to yelp it to him. But now they are all gone, taken far away. They did not like to leave him. They knew he heard, even if he would not reply. Had you never heard them?