Their eyes were. on me. There was question even in Burrich’s dark eyes, as if he debated the wisdom of what he had urged me to do. Kettricken stood very still, trying not to pounce on the bare bone of hope that I had thrown at her feet. I wished that I had waited, to talk first with Chade. I suspected I would never have another chance after this night, to have these people in this room, Wallace out of the way, and Regal busy below. It had to be now or it would not be.
I looked at the only one who was not watching me. King Shrewd idly watched the leap and play of the flames in his hearth. “He is still the King,” I said quietly. “Let us ask him, and let him decide.”
“Not fair! He is not himself!” The Fool flung himself between us. He stood high on his feet to try to look me in the eye. “On the herbs fed him, he is as tractable as a plow horse. Ask him to cut his own throat, and he’ll wait for you to hand him the knife.”
“No.” The voice quavered. It had lost its timbre and resonance. “No, my fool, I am not so far gone as that.”
We waited, breathless, but King Shrewd spoke no more. At last I slowly crossed the room. I crouched down beside him, tried to make his eyes meet mine. “King Shrewd?” I begged.
His eyes came to mine, darted away, came back unwillingly. At last he looked at me.
“Have you heard all we have said? My king, do you believe Verity is dead?”
He parted his lips. His tongue was grayish behind them. He took a long breath. “Regal told me Verity is dead. He had word…. “
“From where?” I asked gently.