Later that night, in the stables, after I’d seen to Sooty, I helped Burrich and Hands put Softstep and Truth, Verity’s horse, to rights. Burrich grumbled at how hard both beasts had been used. Softstep had taken a minor scratch during the attack, and her mouth was sore, bruised from fighting for her head, but neither animal would take permanent hurt. Burrich sent Hands off to fix a warm mash of grain for them both. Only then did he quietly tell how Regal had come in, given his horse over for stabling, and gone up to the Keep without so much as mentioning Kettricken. Burrich himself had been alerted by a stable boy, asking where Softstep was. When Burrich had set about to find out, and made so bold as to ask Regal himself, Regal had replied that he had thought Kettricken had stayed on the road and come in with her attendants. So Burrich had been the one to sound the alarm, with Regal very vague as to where he had actually left the road, and what direction the fox had led him, and presumably Kettricken. “He’s covered his tracks well,” Burrich muttered to me as Hands came back with the grain. I knew he did not refer to the fox.

My feet were leaden as I made my way up to the Keep that night, and my heart as well. I did not want to imagine what Kettricken was feeling, nor did I care to consider what the talk was in the guardroom. I pulled off my clothes and fell into bed, and instantly into a sleep. Molly was waiting for me in my dreams, and the only peace I knew.

I was awakened a short time later, by someone pounding on my latched door. I arose and opened it to a sleepy page, who’d been sent to fetch me to Verity’s map room. I told him I knew the way and sent him back to bed. I dragged on my clothes hastily and raced down the stairs, wondering what disaster had befallen us now.

Verity was waiting for me there, the hearthfire almost the only light in the room. His hair was rumpled, and he had thrown a robe on over his nightshirt. Plainly he had just come from his bed himself, and I braced myself for whatever news he’d received. “Shut the door!” he commanded me tersely. I did and then came to stand before him. I could not tell if the glint in his eyes was anger or amusement as he abruptly demanded, “Who is Lady Red-Skirts, and why do I dream of her every night?”

I could not find my tongue. Desperately I wondered just how privy to my dreams he had been. Embarrassment dizzied me. Had I stood naked before the whole court, I could not have felt more exposed.

Verity turned his face aside and gave a cough that might have started as a chuckle. “Come, boy, it is not as if I cannot understand. I did not wish to be privy to your secret; rather you have thrust it upon me, especially so these last few nights. And I need my sleep, not to start up in bed fevered with your … admiration for this woman.” He stopped speaking abruptly. My flaming blush was warmer than any hearthfire.

“So,” he said uncomfortably. Then abruptly: “Sit down. I am going to teach you to guard your thoughts as well as you guard your tongue.” He shook his head. “Strange, Fitz, that you can block my Skilling so completely from your mind at times, but spill your most private desires out like a wolf howling into the night. I suppose it springs from what Galen did to you. Would we could undo that. But as we can’t, I shall teach you what I can, whenever I can.”

I had not moved. Suddenly neither of us could look at the other. “Come here,” he repeated gruffly. “Sit down here with me. Look into the flames.”

And in the space of an hour, he gave me an exercise to practice, one that would keep my dreams to myself, or more likely, ensure that I had no dreams at all. With a sinking heart I realized I would lose even the Molly of my imagination as surely as I’d lost the real one. He sensed my glumness.

“Come, Fitz, it will pass. Keep a rein on yourself and endure. It can be done. May come a day when you will wish your life to be as empty of women as it is now. As I do.”

“She didn’t mean to get lost, sir.”

Verity shot me a baleful glance. “Intentions cannot be exchanged for results. She is queen-in-waiting, boy. She must always think, not once, but thrice, before she takes action.”

“She told me that Softstep followed Regal’s horse, and would not respond to the rein. You can fault Burrich and I for that; we’re supposed to have trained that horse.”

He sighed suddenly. “I suppose so. Consider yourself rebuked, and tell Burrich to find my lady a less spirited horse to ride until she is a better horsewoman.” He sighed again, deeply. “I suppose she will consider that a punishment from me. She will look at me sadly with those great blue eyes, but speak not a word against it. Ah, well. It cannot be helped. But did she have to kill, and then to speak of it so blithely? What will my people think of her?”