“He clamors and weeps for the guards to come guard him from wood that will not burn, but I, I am the one who lacks courage? Ah, me!”
“Fool, peace, please!” The Queen’s plea seemed genuine. “Wallace. Go bring, not guards, but simply different wood. Our king wishes not this commotion, but simply rest. Go now. Go.”
Wallace hovered at the door, plainly reluctant to brave the blue light of the corridor alone.
The Fool simpered at him. “Shall I come with, to hold your hand, brave Wallace?”
That at last sent him striding from the room. As his footsteps faded, the Fool once more looked toward my hiding place, his invitation plain. “My queen,” I said softly, and a quickly indrawn breath was the only sign that I startled her as I stepped out of the King’s bedchamber. “If you wished to retire, the Fool and I could see the King to his bed. I know you are weary and that you wished to rest early this night.” From the hearth, Rosemary regarded me with round eyes.
“Perhaps I shall,” said Kettricken, rising with surprising alacrity. “Come, Rosemary. Good night, my king.”
She swept from the room, with Rosemary practically trotting at her heels. The child gave us many a backward glance. As soon as the door curtain fell behind them, I was at the King’s side. “My king, it is time,” I told him gently. “I shall keep watch here as you go. Is there anything special you wished to take with you?”
He swallowed, then focused his eyes on me. “No. No, there is nothing here for me. Nothing to leave behind, and nothing to stay for.” He closed his eyes, spoke softly. “I have changed my mind, Fitz. I think I shall stay here, and die in my own bed this night.”