“Fine, then.” Verity leaned back in his chair. He surveyed us both as if he were briefing a whole roomful of men. “Does anyone have any difficulties with any of this?”
I saw the question as a polite closing.
“Sir?” Burrich asked. His deep voice had gone very soft and uncertain, “If I may … I have … I do not intend to question my prince’s judgment, but …”
I held my breath. Here it came. The Wit.
“Speak it out, Burrich. I thought I had made it clear that the `my princing’ was to be suspended here. What worries you?”
Burrich stood up straight, and met the King-in-Waiting’s eyes. “Is this … fitting? Bastard or no, he is Chivalry’s son. What I saw up there, today …” Once started, the words spilled out of Burrich. He was fighting to keep anger from his voice. “You sent him … He went into a slaughterhouse situation, alone. Most any other boy of his age would be dead now. I … try not to pry into what is not my area. I know there are many ways to serve my king, and that some are not as pretty as others. But up in the Mountains … and then what I saw today. Could not you find someone besides your brother’s child for this?”
I glanced back to Verity. For the first time in my life I saw full anger on his face. Not expressed in a sneer or a frown, but simply as two hot sparks deep in his dark eyes. The line of his lips was flat. But he spoke evenly. “Look again, Burrich. That’s no child sitting there. And think again. I did not send him alone. I went with him, into a situation that we expected to be a stalk and a hunt, not a direct confrontation. It didn’t turn out that way. But he survived it. As he has survived similar things before. And likely will again.” Verity stood suddenly. The whole air of the room was abruptly charged to my senses, boiling with emotion. Even Burrich seemed to feel it, for he gave me a glance, then forced himself to stand still, like a soldier at attention while Verity stalked about the room.