“But, enough. I did not summon you for consultations about my health. I suspect you guess why you are here?”
“You would like a complete report of the events at Jhaampe?” I guessed. I glanced about for the servant, saw Wallace hovering near. Cheffers would have departed to allow Shrewd and me to talk freely. I wondered how plainly I dared speak before this new man.
But Shrewd waved it aside. “It is done, boy,” he said heavily. “Verity and I have consulted. Now we let it go. I do not think there is much you could tell me that I do not know, or guess already. Verity and I have spoken at length. I … regret … some things. But. Here we are, and here is always the place we must start from. Eh?”
Words swelled in my throat, nearly choking me. Regal, I wanted to say to him. Your son who tried to kill me, your bastard grandson. Did you speak at length with him, also? And was it before or after you put me into his power? But, as clearly as if Chade or Verity had spoken to me, I knew suddenly I had no right to question my king. Not even to ask if he had given my life over to his youngest son. I clenched my jaws and held my words unuttered.
Shrewd met my eyes. His eyes flickered to Wallace. “Wallace. Take yourself to the kitchens for a bit. Or wherever you wish that is not here.” Wallace looked displeased, but he turned with a sniff and departed. He left the door ajar behind him. At a sign from Shrewd, I arose and shut it. I returned to my seat.
“FitzChivalry,” he said gravely. “This will not do.”