I returned from one of my early-morning expeditions to find two soldiers sparring with one another in the kitchen yard. They had staves and were good-naturedly insulting one another as they huffed and shifted and traded whacks in the cold clear air. The man I did not know at all, and for a moment I thought both were strangers. Then the woman of the pair caught sight of me. “Ho! FitzChivalry. A word with you!” she called, but without retiring her stave.

I stared at her, trying to place her. Her opponent missed a parry and she clipped him sharply with her stave. As he hopped she danced back and laughed aloud, an unmistakable high-pitched whinny. “Whistle?” I asked incredulously.

The woman I had just addressed flashed her famous gap-toothed smile, caught her partner’s stave a ringing blow, and danced back again. “Yes?” she asked breathlessly. Her sparring partner, seeing her occupied, courteously lowered his stave. Whistle immediately darted hers at him. With so much skill he almost looked lazy, his stave leaped up to counter hers. Again she laughed and held up her hand to ask a truce.

“Yes,” she repeated, this time turning to me. “I’ve come … that is, I’ve been chosen to come and ask a favor of you.”

I gestured at the clothes she wore. “I don’t understand. You’ve left Verity’s guard?”

She gave a tiny shrug, but I could see the question delighted her. “But not to go far. Queen’s guard. Vixen badge. See?” She tugged the front of the short white jacket she wore to hold the fabric taut. Good sensible woolen homespun, I saw, and saw, too, the embroidered snarling white fox on a purple background. The purple matched the purple of her heavy woolen trousers. The loose pants cuff had been tucked into knee boots. Her partner’s garb matched hers. Queen’s guard. In light of Kettricken’s adventure, the uniform made sense.

“Verity decided she needed a guard of her own?” I asked delightedly.

The smile faded a bit from Whistle’s face. “Not exactly,” she hedged, and then straightened as if reporting to me. “We decided she needed a Queen’s guard. Me and some of the others that rode with her the other day. We got to talking about … everything, later. About how she handled herself out there. And back here. And how she came here, all alone. We talked about it then, that someone should get permission to form up a guard for her. But none of us really knew how to approach it. We knew it was needed, but no one else seemed to be paying much attention … but then last week, at the gate, I heard you got pretty hot about how she’d gone out, on foot and alone, and no one at her back. Well, you did! I was in the other room, and I heard!”

I bit back my protest, nodded curtly, and Whistle went on: “So. Well, we just did. Those of us who felt we wanted to wear the purple and white just said so. It was a pretty even split. It was time to take in some new blood anyway; most of Verity’s guard was getting a bit long in the tooth. And soft, from too much time in the Keep. So we re-formed, giving rank to some who should have made it long ago, if there’d been any openings to fill, and taking in some recruits to fill in where needed. It all worked out perfectly. These newcomers will give us something to hone our skills on while we teach them. The Queen will have her own guard, when she wants one. Or needs one.”

“I see.” I was beginning to get an uneasy feeling. “And what was the favor you wanted of me?”

“Explain it to Verity. Tell the Queen she has a guard.” She said the words simply and quietly.

“This walks close to disloyalty,” I said just as simply. “Soldiers of Verity’s own guard, setting aside his colors to take on his queen’s …”

“Some might see it that way. Some might speak it that way.” Her eyes met mine squarely, and the smile was gone from her face. “But you know it is not. It’s a needed thing. Your … Chivalry would have seen it, would have had a guard for her before she even arrived here. But King-in-Waiting Verity … well, this is no disloyalty to him. We’ve served him well, because we love him. Still do. This is those who’ve always watched his back, falling back and re-forming to watch his back even better. That’s all. He’s got a good Queen, is what we think. We don’t want to see him lose her. That was all. We don’t think any the less of our king-in-waiting. You know that.”

I did. But still. I looked away from her plea, shook my head, and tried to think. Why me? a part of me demanded angrily. Then I knew, that in the moment I’d lost my temper and berated the guard for not protecting their queen, I’d volunteered for this. Burrich had warned me about not remembering my place. “I will speak to King-in-Waiting Verity. And to the Queen, if he approves this.”