Slowly I rose. I walked around the small table. I had intended only to pat her bent shoulders, but when I touched her, she abruptly stood and stumbled into my embrace. I held her and let her weep against my shoulder. Whether I would or not, my own tears welled. Then her grief, not sympathy for me but true grief at Nighteyes’ death gave permission to mine, and my mourning ripped free. All the anguish I had been trying to conceal from those who could not understand the depth of loss I felt suddenly demanded vent. I think only realized that our roles had changed when she pushed me gently down into her chair. She offered me her tiny, useless handkerchief arid then gently kissed my brow and both my cheeks. I could not stop crying. She stood by me, my head cradled against her breast, and stroked my hair and let me weep. She spoke brokenly of my wolf and all he had been to her, words I scarcely heard.
She did not try to stop my tears or tell me that everything would be all right. She knew it would not. But when my weeping finally had run its course, she stooped and kissed me on my mouth, a healing kiss. Her lips were salt with her own tears. Then she stood, straight again.
She gave a sudden deep sigh as if setting aside a burden. ‘Your poor hair,’ she murmured, and smoothed it to my head. ‘Oh, my dear Fitz. How hard we used you! Both of you. And I can never…’ She seemed to feel the uselessness of words. ‘But… well… drink your tea while it is still hot — ’ She moved apart from me, and after a moment I felt I again had control of myself. As she took my chair, I lifted her cup and drank from it. The tea was still steaming hot. Only a short time had elapsed, yet I felt as if I had passed some important turning point. When I took a breath, it seemed to fill my lungs more deeply than it had in days. She took up my cup. When I looked up at my queen, she gave me a small smile. Her tears had left her pale eyes outlined in red, and her nose was pink. She had never looked lovelier to me.
So we shared some time. The tea was a spice tea, friendly and enlivening. There were flaky rolls stuffed with sausage, and little cakes with tart fruit filling, and plain oatcakes, simple and hearty. I don’t think either of us trusted our voices to speak, and we didn’t have to. We ate in silence. I got up once to replenish the hot water in the teapot. When the herbs had steeped, I poured more tea for both of us. After a time of silence, she leaned back in her chair. and said quietly, ‘So, you see, this supposed “taint” in my son comes from me.’
She spoke it as if we were continuing a conversation. I had wondered if she would make the connection. Now that she did, I grieved for the guilt and chagrin I heard in her voice. ‘There have been Witted Farseers before Dutiful,’ I pointed out, ‘Myself among them.’
‘And you had a Mountain mother. It’s possible chat she was the source of your Wit. Perhaps Mountain blood carries it.’
I walked perilously close to the edge of the truth as I said, ‘I consider it just as likely that Dutiful could have gotten the Wit from his father as his mother.’
‘But—’
‘But it matters little where it came from,’ I interrupted the Queen ruthlessly. I wanted to divert this conversation. ‘The boy has it, and that is what we must deal with. When he first asked me to teach him about it, I was horrified. Now I think his instincts were true. Better he know as much as I can teach him about both his magics.’
Her face lit up. ‘Then you have agreed to teach him!’
Truly, I was out of practice at intrigue. Or perhaps, I reflected wryly, over the years my lady had learned that subtlety and gentleness could win her secrets that even Chade’s deviousness had not pried from me. The accuracy with which she read my face seemed to support the second theory.
‘I will say nothing of it to the Prince. If he wishes it to remain private between you, then so it shall be. When will you start?’
‘At the Prince’s earliest convenience,’ I replied evasively. I would not tattle that he had already missed his first lesson.
She nodded at that, and seemed content to leave it to me. She cleared her throat. ‘FitzChivalry. The reason I summoned you here was my intent to… make things right for you. As much as we can. In so many ways, I cannot treat you as you deserve. But whatever we can do for your comfort or pleasure, I desire that we do. You masquerade as Lord Golden’s servant, and I understand all the reasons for this. Still, it chagrins me that a prince of your bloodlines should go unacknowledged amongst his own folk. So. What can we do! Would you like other chambers prepared for you, ones that you could reach privately and where you could have things arranged for your comfort?’
‘No,’ I replied quickly, and hearing the brusqueness of my reply, I added, ‘I think things are best as they are now. I am as comfortable as I need to be.’ I would live here but I could not make it a home. It was useless to try. That private thought jolted me. Home, I reflected, was a place shared. The loft over the stable with Burrich, or the cottage with Nighteyes and Hap. And the chambers that I now shared with the Fool? No. For there was too much caution in both of us, too much privacy preserved, too many constraints of roles.
‘… arranged for a monthly allowance. After this, Chade will see you receive it, but I wanted you to have this today.’
And my queen was setting a purse before me, a little bag of cloth embroidered with stylized flowers. It clinked sturdily as she placed it on the table. I flushed in spite of myself, and could not hide it. I looked up to find her cheeks equally pink.
‘It does feel awkward, doesn’t it? Make no mistake in this, FitzChivalry. This is not pay for what you have done for me and mine. No coin could ever pay for that. But a man has expenses, and it is not fitting that you should have to ask for what you need.’
I understood her, but I could not forbear from saying, ‘You and yours are also mine, my queen. And you are right. No amount of coin could buy what I do for them.’
Another woman might have taken it as a rebuke. But my words brought a gleam of fierce pride to Kettricken’s eyes and she smiled at me. ‘I rejoice in the kinship we share, FitzChivalry. Rurisk was my only brother. No one can ever replace him. But you have come as close to that as it is possible for anyone to do.’
And at that, I thought we understood each other very well indeed. It warmed me that she claimed me through our kinship, through the bloodlines I shared with her husband and her son. Long ago, King Shrewd had first made me his with a bargain and a silver pin to seal it. Both pin and king were long gone now. Did our bargain still remain? King Shrewd had chosen to invoke his claim on me as the right of my king rather than as my grandfather. Now Kettricken, my Queen, claimed me first as kin and second as brother. She struck no bargains. She would have scowled at the thought that any setting of terms to my loyalty was necessary.
‘I wish to tell my son who you truly are.’
That jolted me from my brief complacency. ‘Please, no, my queen, that knowledge is a danger and a burden. Why put it upon him?’
‘Why deny that knowledge to the Farseer heir?’
A long moment of silence held between us. Then I said, ‘Perhaps in time.’
I was relieved when she nodded. Then she took that from me when she said, ‘I will know when the time is right.’
She reached across the table to take my hand. When I let her have it, she turned it palm up and set something in it. ‘Long ago, you wore a small ruby-and-silver pin that King Shrewd gave you. One that marked you as his, and said that his door was always open to you. I would have you wear this now, in the same spirit.’
It was a tiny thing. A little silver fox with a winking green eye. It sat alertly, its brush curled around its feet. The image was fastened to a long pin. I studied it carefully. It was perfect.