Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Present Day

I heard the hoofbeats long before I saw the rider. Not many traveled this far into the woods, and fewer still would take the steep path to my cabin. I set aside my carving knife and wiped my hands on my shirt, frowning. Nighteyes, stretched out by the hearth, flicked an ear but did not rise.

"Someone seeks you," he murmured sleepily through the Wit.

"I know" I replied.

As the rider crested the hill, I straightened. A single man, cloaked against the morning chill. I knew him— from scent and bearing, he carried himself with the quiet authority of a king.

Verity.

He looked well. Too well. Not the hollow eyed, desperate man I had seen carving dragons from stone, but a king in his prime—his frame filled out again, his features steady, his gaze clear.

I swallowed I had not left things well in Jhampe. A summer and winter had passed between now and then.

Several Months Earlier

The stone beneath my hands was smooth and cold. It did not feel alive.

I had expected something. A thrumming beneath the surface, a pulse of Wit life...

Something that would tell me the man I had known, the man I had fought beside and followed until the bitter end, was still in there.

But Verity did not stir.

The setting sun painted the Stone Garden in streaks of gold and crimson, but I barely saw it. Kettricken knelt beside me. Her hands were white where she pressed them to the stone, as if the sheer force of her will alone could reach through and pull Verity out. I could feel Chade at my back, all sharp impatience and worry, hovering on the edge of this magic he could never truly grasp. Starling stood just beyond him, arms crossed tight over her chest, watching with wary eyes, probably already composing a ballad in her mind.

And Nighteyes. Always there. A warning growl low in his throat, his hackles rising.

"This is foolishness, little brother," he told me again.

I let out a slow breath. "I've done worse."

Then I closed my eyes and reached.

The Skill flared through me, sharp-edged and searing as I forced my senses outward. I had called across distances before. I had sent my will stretching across land and sea. But this?

This was different.

Verity was not in some distant tower or shielded by the walls of Buckkeep. He was here—locked within stone, his own intent having sealed the prison.

I sent the magic curling through the shape of the great stone dragon. It echoed nothing back.

A wave of fear clawed at my chest.

"Verity!" I called desperately trying to summon something of him. The Skill flared brighter at the name, pushing against the unyielding stone.

For a moment, there was only silence.

And then—a flicker.

A distant, slumbering ember, so dim I almost missed it. A shape of thought buried deep.

"Come back," I whispered into the void.

A sluggish response stirred—not awake, but waiting.

I latched onto it, pulling hard, shovelling my own strength into that thread of awareness. "Come back!"

The stone shuddered.

Kettricken gasped. Chade sucked in a sharp breath. Beneath my hands, beneath all of us, the mountain itself groaned. I felt the ripple of power shudder through the lines of rock and dragon-shape, a split forming—

Then I felt something within Verity resist, something ancient, something Elderling. The bond of the stone did not want to be undone.

The Skill sizzled along my nerves, a terrible pulling sensation as the magic twisted. Something tethered him to the stone. His sacrifice had been deliberate and complete. He had meant this.

And the stone would not give him back easily.

I clenched my teeth against the pressure. I pushing harder, forcing my Skill into the rock. Demanding he wake. Pain began to burn through me like red hot strips of wire laid on bare skin. The flow of my own skill met a greater current, like a trickling stream meeting a mighty river. It swept me along against my will.

The stone greedily pulled energy from me, my life force bleeding out like blood from a severed artery.

"Fitz—careful!" Chade’s voice barely reached me through the roaring in my ears.

I felt my strength draining fast, slipping from me even as I struggled to slow it. But I couldn't stop what I'd begun now, not even if I wanted to.

"My love… please!" Kettricken’s voice, thick with tears, rang through the Skill itself.

Something broke.

The fissure split wide before us. The great stone body of the dragon cracked down the center. A horrible, tearing sound filled the air as blackened veins of jagged fractures ran across its surface. Stone peeled away with a sound like snapping bone.

The Skill tore through me, burning every nerve raw.

Molten fire bled from the cracks—golden light, bursting free.

And then—a man fell forward onto his hands and knees.

"Verity!" Kettricken cried. She fell to her knees beside him, hands grasping at his face—his face, human, real, flesh beneath her fingers—as if confirming that he was truly there. Her fingers traced his cheek, his brow, his lips, trembling, disbelieving.

He dragged in a rattling breath.

I barely saw him through the dark edges clouding my vision. But I knew Verity. And I knew—he had changed.

His hair was dark again and held no grey. His body muscled like the solider I remembered from my childhood. Gone was the aged man that I had last seen him as before he disappeared into the Dragon. This was Verity of old, the man he used to be before the hours of skilling in the tower took their toll on his body and mind. His eyes, though unmistakably his own, seemed to shine too brightly, the way Elderling-touched things sometimes did. The magic that had altered him still lingered in his breath and in his bones.

Kettricken pressed her forehead to his. A sob broke from her. "You came back."

His hand rose slowly, as if he hardly remembered how to move it. He curled his fingers into her sleeve, gripping her arm as though he needed her to anchor him to this world.

"You called me," he murmured.

The exhaustion in his voice was mirrored in my own bones. I exhaled long and deep, the world tilted, swimming. I staggered, and my knees bucked under me. My head rang with an unnatural Skill silence.

"Little brother?" Nighteyes circled close, his voice fainter than it should have been.

Panic tightened my chest.

My vision pulsed black.

"Fitz—!" Chade tried to catch me, but I was already falling forward. Darkness swallowed me whole.

Chapter Text

I surfaced to the steady sound of breathing and the familiar musk of wolf fur. I rolled my head to the side stiffly as I cracked my eyes open, but before I could fully comprehend my surroundings, I was met with a puppylike burst of joy and my wolf's warm tongue eagerly licking my face.

"Little brother!" Nighteyes panted. "You are awake!"

I feebly pushed him away, groaning at the aching in my limbs. The excited chatter of his thoughts were too much for my addled, newly awoken mind to take.

"You're thin, and have slept too long. We all feared you would not wake.." Nighteyes whined, pressing his large head on my chest and peering at me, ears flattened in concern.

I ran a hand through his fur to I soothe him, sensing his deep worry. My thoughts felt muddled. I struggled to a sitting position in the bed so I could better take in the room.

The chamber featured warm-toned walls and soft furry rugs covering a birchwood floor. A fire burned low in the hearth to my right, the glow unfamiliar. I did not recognise this room.

I swallowed. My throat was raspy from disuse. "...Where?"

"The pack den of the high bitch"

"Jhaampe?"

"They carried you here…like a dead dear through the snow. You missed the journey. Lay limp while the others worried over you, and argued about your fate. Sometimes your eyes would open, but nobody was behind them." He whined nosing me. "You didn't speak. Didn't move. Just stared. Glassy eyed like a dead fish…As if your body kept breathing, but you'd gone somewhere I couldn't follow."

Memories staggered through me. The Stone Garden. The crack of splitting rock. Verity tumbling forward into his Queen's waiting arms. The Skill burning through me like a wildfire consuming a dry field—

"How long did I sleep?"

"Too long little brother... The moon has grown from crescent to fat and then crescent again."

I stared at him. A month? A whole month..?

"You’ve been more dead than alive since the mountain."

I experimentally reached with the skill. Like trying to flex an arm.

Nothing.

A silence where something should be. A missing limb that left no wound.

Nighteyes' ears went flat against his skull. "Stop clawing at it. Like scratching at a wound that’s already scarred over. Better it's gone….bad magic that brings nothing but bad luck and scars!"

I swallowed. Mentally circling the raw, gnawing void where the Skill had been. I had lost it—just like that. Gift or curse, whatever it had been, it was gone.

I should have felt relieved.

I did not.

"Verity?"

Nighteyes snorted softly. "The dragon is better than I've ever known him to be..." The wolf rolled onto his back, paws lazily in the air. "If he'd been a wolf, I'd say he'd shed a tattered winter coat and grown in a thick, shining pelt. He is strong. Whole. More alive than when he was merely a man."

I pushed the covers back. I had to get up.

"I need to see him"

Nighteyes huffed. "You should not move yet."

I ignored him. Already I was pushing off the bed, forcing unwilling muscles to obey. My limbs ached with the dull, deep-set pain of disuse. Every familiar old wound—where Regal's men had broken my ribs, where knives had cut and crossbow bolts had torn—throbbed in time with my pulse. I searched the room and found some simple woollen overclothes to pull on over my night shirt and breeches.

"Foolish…" Nighteyes grumbled, but he moved to my side to steady me. "Lean on me when you stumble."

I pressed a grateful hand to his scruff as we stepped into the corridor. The air of Jhaampe smelled of burning cedar, fir trees and snow-wet wool, yet the familiarity of it soured in my throat. The last two times I had visited in these halls, I had been less than whole—once, after near-fatal arrow in my back, and once again after being dragged back from poison-laced oblivion.

This made the third.

I pushed through the unpleasant memories as we walked. Nighteyes set a slow pace, letting me lean against him as my body adjusted to movement once more. My legs felt stiff. My balance foreign.

"You do not smell good...you should swim in the warm pools later…" Nighteyes suggested with a sniff. That the wolf was now issuing me with bathing advice underlined just how out of kilter my world was.

"I always give you good advice. A shame you do not follow it more often.." His tongue lolled as he regarded me. "The pack will be glad to see you upright again." A flick of his ear. "Come."

He led me through a side passage, past wooden pillars carved with twisting vines, until we stepped out into an enclosed garden. The warmth of the hotsprings which flowed underfoot, allowed a microclimate in the palace gardens. Plants bloomed here that would not otherwise survive, lending the gardens an air of perpetual early summer.

We walked the winding paths and finally rounded a stone archway, and I saw them.

Verity sat cross-legged on a thickly quilted blanket, his tunic open at the throat, sleeves rolled up as he let the afternoon light warm his skin. He was laughing softly—laughing—as Kettricken pressed a kiss to their son’s dark hair. The baby, nestled against her, made a happy gurgling sound, waving chubby hands as Verity caught one in his own.

It was a scene plucked from an impossible dream.

The man I had known—the king who had been worn to the bone by duty, his body bowed under the weight of sacrifice—was gone. This was Verity, yet not the Verity I had last seen, gaunt and fading. He had vitality now, lightness in his expression, warmth in the way he watched his wife and son.

Something twisted in my chest. Sharp. Unexpected.

I had grieved him, shattered myself on his behalf. Then carved an existence from the scraps of my life—only to be called back, used as the instrument of his return. And now here he stood, whole, happy, untouched by all I'd endured in his absence.

I clenched my hands.

Molly’s face ghosted behind my eyes. Nettle’s dark hair. The life I had walked away from. The daughter who would never know me. The family I had lost.

I had spent a year alone, shaping myself into something smaller—surviving, not living. Verity had been spared that loss.

The jealousy of it coiled thick in my throat, followed swift by shame. I had wanted this. Had fought for it. Verity home. Safe. Alive.

And yet—

Nighteyes loosed a small noise, a soft whine deep in his throat.

Verity looked up.

His gaze landed on me, a slow blink, something unreadable shifting in the black depths of his Elderling-touched eyes. Kettricken followed his line of sight, craning to see—

Then, with a cry of relief, she surged to her feet.

"Fitz!"

I had scarcely a heartbeat to brace before she reached me, locking her arms around my shoulders. My weakened legs nearly gave beneath the force of her embrace.

"You are awake," she breathed. "Oh, Fitz—you are awake."

She held me fiercely, her arms tightening as if to keep me from vanishing again. "We were so worried…"

But had they been? The sight of them, warm, complete, had not looked like worry to me.

I tried to return the embrace, but the hollowness in my chest only deepened. I felt like a footnote in their story. Or maybe less…an inkstain. Something no one would miss if it were scrubbed away.

If Regal’s mother had succeeded in making me disappear as a child, would any of them have truly suffered? My father would have lived. He would have been king. Verity and he together might have shaped Galen’s discarded students into a coterie strong enough to hold the Red Ships at bay. The kingdom intact. Shrewd alive. Verity never needing to carve his soul into the walls of a stone dragon.

I swallowed hard, feeling empty.

Kettricken pulled back just enough to search my face, clear blue eyes tracing every line my slumber had left. A tremulous smile broke over her lips, the kind of joy she'd never spent carelessly.

Maybe she would have missed me.

For a little while.

Then, as if remembering herself, Kettricken released me. I barely had time to steady my feet before she turned, moving back toward Verity.

He had risen, shifting Prince Dutiful against his shoulder. At Kettricken’s approach, he passed the infant back into her waiting arms without taking his eyes off me. Then he stepped forward, closing the distance between us in a few long strides.

His hands, strong and steady, clasped mine in a firm, encompassing grip.

"Fitz," he said, my name in fierce sort of whisper. He squeezed my hands, his grip warm, tangible. "I owe you more than I can say."

I looked at him—the man I’d thought lost to me forever. He was not lined with exhaustion, not worn to the edge of death, but whole. Renewed. His stance steady, his frame strong. Even his eyes were different—deeper black than I remembered.

My own body felt broken and aged beyond its years.

That sharp edge of jealousy cut through me again, swift and brutal.

I had been emptied. Hollowed. My magic stripped away, my ties to this world carved down to nothing. Molly. Nettle. Every thread of my past severed, dead to me as I was to them.

And Verity—he had stepped from the stone into the waiting arms of his wife, the warmth of his child. He had lost nothing.

I dropped his hands.

"It was what needed to be done," I said flatly.

Verity frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Fitz—"

I turned away from him. I suddenly couldn't bear to be there anymore. "My pardon my king….I…I feel ill...I think should return to bed…"

Kettricken, oblivious to the storm between us, immediately nodded. "Of course. You have only just woken." She turned, raising a hand to summon two of her attendants. "They will help you back to your chambers."

Verity was still looking at me, something troubled in the furrow of his brow. But I refused to meet his gaze. Lest he read too easily the thoughts that whirled in my head. The thoughts that shamed me.

The attendants approached, murmuring soft reassurances in the Mountain tongue. I did not resist as they took my arms, guiding me gently away.

Nighteyes padded beside me. I did not look back.

I stayed in my room for the rest of my time in Jhampe. Three weeks of self imposed exile. The days blurring together as I watched shadows creep across the wall, marking time's slow crawl.

The emptiness inside me grew deeper, darker. Every time I thought about Verity and Kettriken, I thought about Molly and Nettle. And nothingness I had to go back to. My body felt more weary than I'd ever known it. Almost as if I'd spent my own vitality in restoring Verity's. My hands shook more often than not now.

I knew my anger, my jealously, was irrational. But that did not make it stop. I was convinced that the only thing which would make my shameful feelings worse, would be having them revealed. What manner of twisted broken man envies another's health and happiness this deeply after all?

When Kettricken came to check on me, I feigned sleep. When Verity requested to see me I claimed weakness. The bitter taste of elfbark tea lingered constantly on my tongue. I started adding a strong mountain liqueur to the elf bark tea , I thought it enhanced it's potency nicely.

"You smell of old grief and stale anger," Nighteyes complained one evening. "Like meat left too long in the sun."

I ignored him, staring into the hearth's dying embers.

Chade visited daily, his concern evident in the set of his shoulders. He saw though my excuses quickly, but left me to myself at first.

However on the twentieth day his patience finally wore thin.

"You know boy…" He began fixing his sharp eyes on me "You can't hide in here forever."

When I said nothing and just continued to stare into the fire. He abruptly snatched the mug of elfbark and liqueur tea from my hands.

"Enough of this childish sulking!" he snapped. "You're acting like a spoiled boy who's had his favorite toy taken away."

The words stung deeper than he knew. I glared at him. "You don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly well. You're wallowing in self-pity while your king—your uncle and friend—believes he's somehow wronged you. When are you going see him? He asks after you daily, but is polite enough not press you in your —" He gestured vaguely at me in a frustrated distaste "—current state." He settled on finally. "Is this how you repay his trust? His love?"

"Love?" I laughed bitterly, my words slurring slightly. "He has everything he wanted. His kingdom. His queen. His heir. What does he need with a broken assassin? Or a-" I stopped myself. I had almost said or an inconvenient connection. I thought of my connection to Prince Dutiful. I thought of him as Verity's child, not my own. But why even have a question mark hanging over it? Wouldn't it be easier for everyone if I just disappeared? Maybe one day Verity might come to that conclusion himself and tell Chade to arrange it…

"These are polluted thoughts brother! Do not heed them. Your mind is fogged with the bitter water you drink day and night…" Nighteyes interrupted

I ignored him too. Suppressing the small part of me that found truth in his words. My thoughts had taken on a particularly dark edge of late, and I thought often of Galen's skill tower and what I felt whilst lying alone there after the beating often.

"Or a what?" Chade demanded and I reminded myself of the thread of conversation I had dropped. I wanted Chade to leave me alone so I could get back to my brooding and fire gazing in peace.

I glowered at my old mentor "What do you think happens to a tool when it has no more use? It is cast aside." I snapped, spoiling for a fight. "That's what we all are—pawns for the Farseers! Sacrificial pieces to be played when convenient! Tell me, Chade, what becomes of the King's assassin when they're not capable of performing anymore? What would Shrewd have done with you when you were too old, or ill to be of use to him anymore? What would he view you as? I'll tell a you: A liability. A sick dog to be put down."

Something flashed in Chade's eyes before it was masked by anger. His face hardened to stone. For a moment, the only sound was the soft crackle of the fire. When Chade spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet.

"You ungrateful, self-pitying fool."

The words lashed me like a whip. I flinched but forced myself to meet his gaze.

"You sit here, wallowing in this pathetic state, accusing me—accusing Verity—of using you like some disposable tool?! Do you think I spent years teaching you, protecting you only because the crown needed a killer? I could have trained a dozen others with less trouble! " He stood now, towering over me, suddenly every inch the formidable assassin he had once been. "Has not Verity helped you? Did he not risk himself to save you in Tradeford after your idiotic attempt to assassinate Regal? Give his own life away to save you and everyone else in the Six Dutchies?!" He demanded slamming a fist on the table beside me.

I opened my mouth, but the bitter retort died on my lips. Looking at Chade's face—truly looking—I saw not just anger, but genuine hurt. Hurt that I had caused. The fight drained out of me as quickly as it had come, leaving only shame in its wake.

Chade looked at me in disgust. "And now you're bitter because Verity didn't lose as much as you did? Is that what this performance is about?" Chade's voice shook with an anger I'd rarely witnessed. He glared at me a while longer before adding "Burrich would be ashamed."

The truth of it struck like a physical blow. I flinched and looked away.

"Chade, I didn't—" I began, but he cut me off with a sharp gesture.

"No. I've heard quite enough."

He turned away, his shoulders rigid with a dignity that made my petulance seem all the more childish. The door thudded behind him.

After he left, I sat in the growing dark, his words echoing. I was certain Chade would tell Verity and Kettricken everything I'd said. The shame of it all pressed down on me until I could barely breathe. They deserved better than this. Better than my petty jealousy and these dark thoughts I struggled to free myself from.

I wrote the note by candlelight, ink spotting the parchment where my hands shook:

I'm sorry. I need time. Please don't look for me.

-Fitz

Before dawn, I gathered my few belongings. Nighteyes watched silently as I shouldered my pack.

"We are running away?"

"We're going home."

"Foolishness. Leaving your pack behind. What will you do in that lonely burrow of yours? Chop wood? Stare at the fire? Wait for the world to forget you exist?”

"Yes," I said shortly.

He huffed a sigh, but didn't argue.

We slipped through Jhaampe's sleeping halls and out into the pre-dawn dark.

Chapter Text

Present Day

Verity dismounted and approached. He scanned the yard, his eyes settling on the haphazard pile of split logs near the door, the sagging roof, the fishbones scattered by the firepit. Then—on me. I was painfully aware of my worn shirt, the ragged cuffs, the stubble I hadn’t bothered to shave in a week. I had not expected company. Certainly not a king.

Verity took a step forward, I dropped to one knee, bowing my head. Instinct more than intent, my body recalling old habits and courtly manners before my mind could catch up.

A heavy sigh answered me.

"Fitz." Verity's exasperated tone took me back to my boyhood. "Get up. After all we've been through, do you truly think we still need that between us?" His brows lifted, his expression more wearied than scolding.

I stood feeling awkward. "You are my king" I mumbled, my head still bowed.

The silence lingered. I probably should have invited him in, offered him a seat, food—something. But my cabin was small, cluttered with tools and scraps of whatever I’d scavenged or traded for in town. Not fit for guests.

Verity watched me, arms crossing slow over his chest. A waiting posture. For an explanation? Apology? He frowned when I just stood there stupidly mute, and turned his head to look about my small front garden, similar to how he might inspect his men on parade. His gaze moved over everything, the unsteady fence post, the rust-lined bucket by the door. All of it made me feel an uneasy sense apprehension, but it felt impolite to stop him.

“So this is where you’ve been,” he said at last. Not a question. No judgment in the words, either—but I felt it just the same.

I gave a nod.

A small sound from within—Nighteyes shifting, yawning. The wolf stretched lazily, then padded through the doorway, and up to Verity.

"The dragon smells of stone and purpose" Nighteyes noted, sniffing at Verity’s boots before glancing at me. "You still run from him?"

"I didn't run." I sent back irritably, vainly trying to convince both of us.

I heard sigh from Verity drawing my attention back to him “Fitz. Will you not invite your king inside?”

"I…" I hesitated, glancing at the doorframe which had warped over the years, thought of the roof that was in constant need of patching and disarray of my home. "I'm not sure if you….that is….I've not tidied…" It was a place for a man who had given up on the world. Hardly fit for a king.

Verity, presumably tired of my dithering, made a decision for both us. He stepped forward, then ducked inside. He glanced once around the dim interior, at my few possessions, and then again at me. I braced myself for more of his judgment. But he only sighed.

“Fitz….what are you doing here?”

I folded my arms. Feeling suddenly defensive. “Living.” This was my home. What else would I be doing here?

He didn't speak the words, but his gaze said everything: This isn't living. This is withering.

"There is a difference between solitude and isolation." He said gently.

I looked away. Nighteyes huffed softly by the fire.

"The dragon speaks true" the wolf commented. "You have retreated. Even from yourself."

Verity inspected a shelf with some of my inks. “You left Jhaampe without a word to me." He stated without looking at me "Why?”

I had no excuse that would satisfy him. "I left…a note" I protested weakly. I felt like a boy again, summoned to answer for some misdeed.

Verity studied me and I forced my eyes level with his, fighting an uncomfortable urge to lower myself, to expose my throat in submission. The wolf part of me recognized him as pack leader, dominant, stronger. I gripped the edge of my table to steady myself, knowing Verity would think my mind had completely unraveled if I dropped to all fours and started whining at his feet.

Something of the dragon still clung to him. Perhaps it was in how he carried himself, or in the otherworldly glint that occasionally caught in his eyes when he turned his head just so. Verity had always possessed an imposing stature. Though we stood nearly the same height, I was all angles and leanness where he was solid presence. I had grown taller since boyhood but remained wiry, lacking bulk.

To my dismay my hands began their familiar tremor, the slight shake that had long plagued me, but more so since losing the Skill. It worsened when I felt cornered or anxious. I slid them into my pockets before Verity could notice, but his eyes tracked the movement. Nothing escaped him.

"Fitz—" he started.

"-Would you like some tea?" I blurted, desperate to steer us away from discussing my condition or anything of consequence. "I have... well, it's not Buck tea, just some herbs I've dried, raspberry leaf mainly, but it's not terrible." I moved toward the kettle, grateful for something to do with my hands.

Verity's sigh filled the small room. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated with my evasion, but nodded.

"Tea would be welcome." he conceded "Perhaps it will help us both feel more at ease." The way he emphasised the last words made it clear he understood exactly what I was doing. Verity moved to my single chair, a rickety thing I'd salvaged from an abandoned farm, and sat. He looked out of place there—a king on a commoner's seat—but he seemed unbothered by it. Verity's presence seemed to take up the room, even though I sensed he was actually trying to make himself as un-intimidating as possible.

"He regards you as a rabbit which might bolt at any moment…" Nighteyes supplied unhelpfully.

I busied myself with the kettle, relieved for the temporary reprieve. Nighteyes watched us both with amused interest.

I poured the steaming liquid into two mismatched cups, both chipped along the rims but serviceable. With no proper tray, I placed them on a flat piece of oak I'd been whittling into a serving board. It remained unfinished, like most things in my life.

I carried it carefully to Verity, acutely aware of how pathetic this offering must seem to a man accustomed to palace service. The tea was thin, amber-colored, nothing like the rich blends served at court. But Verity accepted the cup with the same dignified nod he might have given a page at Buckkeep Castle.

"My thanks" he said simply.

I had opened my mouth, ready to launch into some meandering commentary about the local herbs or perhaps the weather—anything to postpone whatever Verity had traveled so far to say—when he raised his hand.

"Sit down, Fitz."

The command in his voice was gentle but unmistakable.

"We both know I'm not a man for games or dancing around matters" Verity continued "So I'll speak plainly, as I always have with you."

I glanced around helplessly for somewhere to sit. With Verity in my only chair, I lowered myself onto the stone hearth, and perched there with my tea cradled between my palms, using its warmth to hide the trembling in my fingers.

Verity took a sip of the tea, then set his cup down very slowly, as if I was some wild quarry he was worried about spooking. 

"Kettricken told me what happened after I returned to the mountains to…sleep." He paused. "She said you disappeared for several months. No one knew your whereabouts."

I stared into my cup, the amber liquid reflecting tiny fragments of firelight.

"Where did you go, Fitz?"

I swallowed hard, I didn't want to talk about any of this, and I felt the beginnings of a headache forming

"I went east," I said finally "I lived among the Old Blood—witted families in the foothills of Tilth. A man named Black Rolf took me in. I thought..." The memories felt like scabbed wounds, still tender to the touch. I hesitated, trying to give form to the hope I'd once clung to. "I thought I might find acceptance. People like me. A place to belong."

"And did you?" Verity asked quietly.

"It... wasn’t what I'd hoped." I let out a short, humorless breath. "I found judgment instead. Black Rolf told me I was—" I hesitated, suddenly ashamed to repeat it aloud. "That I was no good for Nighteyes."

Nighteyes snorted softly at my feet. "The old man did not understand our bond."

But I remembered Rolf's weathered face, the disappointment-edging on repulsion- in his eyes as he watched me struggle through the most basic Old Blood teachings. You use the wolf as a tool, not a brother. You think like a human even when trying to be wolf. Also how he had said it was a perversion amongst the old blood to share a body with an animal. The weight of Rolf's criticism stung me daily, and worse was the growing suspicion that he might be right. What had I ever truly given Nighteyes except danger and pain?

I had thought meeting other witted ones would make me feel more…whole…more understood. Instead it had confirmed my old fear that there was something deeply and fundamentally wrong with me. Something flawed and tainted. Maybe something that my mother and father both saw, something that caused them both to reject me…

I realised Verity was waiting for me to continue speaking

"I left feeling… dejected," I admitted, staring into my cup. "Like I'd tried to wedge myself into a place where I didn’t belong. Where I wouldn’t ever belong."

Verity's eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent, letting me press forward at my own pace.

"I convinced Nighteyes to try his own kind again. Just for a season. He always said he didn't miss wolves, but I thought maybe—maybe he'd find something I'd never been able to give him. A pack. Not just me. It felt—" I swallowed. "Fair. He deserved that chance."

At my feet, Nighteyes chuffed softly. "I told you then that I would find no better brother than you," he reminded me.

"I know." But even now, I wasn’t certain I had done the right thing.

"We parted near the banks of a slow-moving river. I told him I’d meet him come spring." I rubbed my fingers against the rim of my cup, restless. "And then I—" I exhaled, shaking my head. "I don’t know why, but I was drawn back to the stone garden in the Elderling city."

Verity's brow furrowed slightly.

"Where you… where you slept." I hesitated. "I suppose I thought—" I exhaled a short laugh, no humour in it. "I don’t even know what I thought. That I could speak to you? Hear something? I was alone, and I think I just wanted..." I shook my head trailing off. "...But you didn’t answer that time."

Verity sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "And so you left."

I nodded. "I left." And resigned myself to being alone.

"After. I went to Jhampe. While I was there, travellers brought rumours that the Queen's newborn child—that Prince Dutiful was ill. That he might not survive." I looked down at my hands. "I thought I might be able to help, so I went to back to the Elderling city in search of… I don't know what exactly…I thought with all they built there might be answer there…"

Verity gave a solemn nod "Kettricken said the royal physicians had given up hope." He said gravely "They did not expect him to see his first year. A malady of the lungs they said" His gaze softened. "And then, Kettricken tells me, you appeared at the palace one night, in secret. You brought Chade Elderling stone tablets. From the city.."

He prompted me to go on, but I wasn't sure why, as Kettricken and Chade had surely given him a full report of the mountains and how we'd all managed to pull his consciousness back to us. I shrugged and looked down at my now empty cup craving something stronger than the raspberry leaf tea. "The rest I'm sure you know.."

I felt Verity's eyes on me

"Kettricken and Chade have told me their versions, I should like to hear the tale in your words too." He prodded.

I sighed, it seemed redundant but I began it anyway.

"When I touched one of the tablets, it...flooded me with information. Healing methods, remedies, cures for ailments I'd never even heard of. It came all at once—a jumble of images, words in languages I didn't know, sensations. Without proper Skill control, I couldn't... I couldn't make sense of most of it."

It was damaged—cracked down the middle. I think much was lost." I swallowed. "Chade and I tried to recreate what remedies I could decipher. We mixed tinctures, brewed potions from what I relayed and we understood. Some names of plants were different, or didn't grow near Buck…We substituted where we could, and the remedies seemed to help Dutiful, but only for hours at a time."

I hesitated, looking down at my hands. "I knew we needed someone stronger in the Skill. Someone who could read the tablets properly. I'd brought several tablets that I found in the remnants of a healers shop. The last one I studied…. it was different from the others. It had information about undoing transformations…stone transformations…But it was fragmented, incomplete—like reading a book with half the pages torn out. But I thought... I hoped…"

I looked up at Verity, but he himself was staring into the fire. A far off look in his eyes. Just as I started to wonder if he was still listening to me, or skilling instead said:

"Go on"

"I thought it might contain enough to help me reach you….it had…instructions" I explained "But more than that. It seemed like a tool itself—like it was designed not just to explain the process but to facilitate it."

Verity's eyes shifted back to me "And did the tablet contain any warnings for one who might attempt such a feat?"

I scratched the back of neck. "It hinted at...consequences. But was…. vague about what those might be….and that they weren't certain…" I said trying to sound casual.

A note in my tone must have betrayed me. His eyes narrowed in something like disapproval.

I shifted uncomfortably. There was more—things I'd glimpsed when I touched that tablet. Warnings about balance, about prices to be paid. But they'd been fragments, and in that moment, the choice had seemed clear.

"Chade believed we had no options left." I met Verity's gaze briefly before looking away. "He said if we couldn't bring you back, the Farseer line would end with Dutiful. And I...I couldn't bear to see Kettricken lose another child after losing you. It would have destroyed her."

Verity was silent for a long moment.

"So you returned to the stone garden," he finally said. "And used this tablet."

I nodded. "We managed to bring you back. But in the process..." I glanced up at him. "The tablet shattered. Completely. Whatever power it held was used up or released. There's only splinters left of it now."

"That is… a great shame" Verity said looking back into fire, his voice laced with a quiet regret, and something else…maybe irritation? "I would have liked to examine it for myself." Then he looked at me his expression softening. "Though, the healing tablets you found were indeed extremely useful "

I was suddenly immediately ashamed I hadn't inquired about the prince's condition. My concerns had been so wrapped up in my own losses that I'd neglected to ask about the very child whose illness had set all of this in motion.

"How is Dutiful?" I asked

"He thrives," Verity said, his voice soft with paternal pride. "The remedies we distilled from the tablets have strengthened his lungs considerably. The royal physicians believe he has overcome the worst of his ailment."

"That's... that's good news" I said feeling a warmth inside me for the little prince. It helped distill some of the tension in me. "Very good news."

"Indeed." Verity agreed. "Thanks to you, Fitz. " He gave me a small warm smile.

"I'm glad," I said simply, and meant it. Despite everything, despite the hollow space inside me where the Skill had once flowed, knowing the prince would live and grow strong brought me a small bit of peace.

"I should have come to see you sooner..." Verity stated, looking into the fire again. "I wanted to. After the first month, then the second."

I fiddled with my empty cup again. I couldn't really blame him for not seeking me out, considering the way I left "You had a kingdom to rebuild."

"That's not why I stayed away." Verity's eyes found mine, steady and piercing. "You asked for time alone. You made it clear you needed distance. I believed I was respecting your wishes."

I nodded looking down. I couldn't fault him for that. When I looked up Verity was studying the flames again.

"I heard you that first time you know…" he said "Whilst I still slept as a stone dragon….when you came to the stone garden…alone…after you left the witted ones"

I almost dropped my cup startled "You-You did?" I thought of how alone I'd felt at that time and couldn't help feeling another sting of betrayal. I had reached him? But he had allowed me to think him gone? Dead to the world. To grieve him. Why? "But if you heard me why did you not answer? Were you unable to-"

"-I did not answer, because I chose not to. The second time you came with the queen I saw there was a real undeniable need for me to answer you, and so I did "

I stared at him, my stomach knotting.

"I did not answer, because I chose not to."

The words reverberated through me, hollowing out something raw in my chest. I had thought—no, I had believed—that when I had reached for him, desperate and lost, he simply hadn’t been able to reply. That he’d been too deep within the stone, trapped beyond my reach. But that had been another lie I had told myself for comfort. I felt my head throbbing. My hands began to shake again. I needed elfbark.

Wordlessly I got up and went to the stove. Putting a pot of water on to boil. I reached up and grabbed a small leather pouch from a shelf. I could feel Verity's eyes on me as I emptied it, revealing small strips of silvery bark that gleamed even in the cabin's dim light.

I began shaving it with my small knife, the curls falling in a neat pile.

"Fitz." Verity's voice carried a note of concern. "That's a considerable amount of elfbark."

I ignored him. If wasn't for this damn throbbing in my head I'd have thrown something at him. Maybe even the knife.

As it was, I kept shaving, the rhythmic scrape of blade against bark filling the silence. I needed to fix this damned persistent headache, before I said anything else.

"A quarter of that amount would still be a medicinal dose," Verity persisted, rising from his chair. He stepped closer, examining the growing pile of shavings. "What ails you that requires such a remedy?" He placed a firm hand on wrist stilling the knife.

I didn't want him to touch me. Didn't want him anywhere near me. How dare he pretend concern for me after what he'd just admitted?! I tried to tear my wrist away, but he held it fast. I whirled on him. We were nose to nose.

"You heard me?" I said, voice sharp. "And you chose not to answer?"

"Fitz, calm yourself." Verity's voice was all mild command, like he was discussing some trivial matter of state, some insignificant detail in a policy scroll amongst Buckeep merchants "Come and sit down—"

"—You chose not to answer me!" I shouted near hysterical. I saw now, like a stone falling into place inside me, what he had done. The why of it. And it sickened me. "Because what? My suffering wasn't important enough?! When I was alone, when I had no one, you still thought—what? That it was best to leave me wondering if I'd imagined our connection entirely?"

"That was not the way of it" Verity said, patient even as my voice rose in anger.

"Then what was the way of it?" I demanded.

Verity inhaled deeply. "You told me once you wanted to be free from court. From the Farseers. I was trying to give you that. A clean break. No lingering debts, no more oaths tying you to a dead man. You had given too much already."

I laughed, sharp and bitter. "You think ignoring me was some kind of mercy?" I shook my head. "You let me believe you were gone. That I had lost the only person left who—" The words caught, choking off. I dragged in a breath and forced my voice steady. "After everything I did, everything I gave up, you decided I wasn’t worth even a single word? But Kettricken and your heir are?"

"That is not what I thought." Verity said, something like frustration flickering in his calm facade. "I thought—I hoped—that without me, you would finally live for yourself."

Anger surged through me, swift and hot. "You don’t get to decide that for me!" Wrenched my wrist away from him, knocking some of the elfbark shavings on to the floor.

"Fitz—"

"No." My hands clenched into fists. "Don’t come here again. Don’t ever come here again!"

I turned, feeling his eyes on my back. I would not look at him again.

"I see I have overtired you." Verity's voice was still maddeningly calm "You have no ability to listen to reason just now. I shall come back when your head has cooled."

I heard Verity's footsteps head towards the door as I stood seething in my kitchen.

"Don't bother coming back at all!" I growled at the empty room.

Chapter Text

"You would poison yourself in anger, little brother?" Nighteyes pressed against my leg, his golden eyes fixed on the scattered elfbark.

"Don't start," I muttered, kneeling to gather the precious shavings from the floor. My head still throbbed mercilessly.

"The dragon was right. That much would have dulled more than your pain." The wolf nudged my hand with his nose. "Perhaps he is right about other things as well."

I rounded on him, betrayal stinging sharp. "So that's how it is? You take his side now?"

"I take the side of sense, Changer. And you have little at the moment." Nighteyes flattened his ears. "Your anger clouds your thinking."

"My anger is justified!" I slammed my palm against the table. "He let me believe—he let me think—" Words failed me. The pot on the stove began to boil over, hissing against hot metal.

"Then tell him so. But with a clear head, not this storm inside you."

I moved the pot from the heat, anger still coursing through me. But now it had a new target. Verity thought he could just ride away, could once again decide when our conversations began and ended? Not this time.

"Fine," I growled, heading for the door. "I'll give him clarity."

The night air was crisp against my face as I stalked around the side of the cottage. Verity stood beside his mount, adjusting the saddle girth. His back was to me, but I knew he was listening.

"You don't get to leave" I called out, voice hard as I strode toward him. "Not until you hear me."

Verity turned, his face maddeningly composed. "I'm listening, FitzChivalry."

"All that time," I said, the words bursting from me, "when I reached out with the Skill. When I called your name into the darkness. You were there. You heard me."

"Yes." No excuse, no defense. Just that single word.

"Do you have any idea what that did to me? To reach and reach and never know if I was simply shouting into emptiness?" My voice cracked. "To wonder if I'd imagined it all?"

"Fitz.." Verity began

I felt it before I heard or saw anything—a presence, lurking just beyond the edge of my senses, someone hidden on the edge of the woods overlooking the cabin, watching us with cold intent.

"Danger," Nighteyes growled through the Wit. He had leapt to his feet, hackles raised, his golden eyes fixed on the treeline beyond Verity’s horse.

Too late.

The crossbow twanged.

I moved without thinking. One moment, Verity was walking back towards me. The next, I was lunging toward him, shoving him hard to the side. He grunted in surprise as he staggered, catching himself against his horse.

Pain.

A burning, searing pain tore through my side. My breath hitched, and I staggered, my hands already slick with my own blood.

Verity did not notice. His head snapped up, following the line of the attacker to edge of the woods, his eyes going cold and sharp. He reached outward with the Skill, seizing the mind of the man before he could reload. But something strange happened.

With my wit sense I felt the archer’s body convulse violently. He let out a strangled gasp, then collapsed to the ground. Dead.

Verity swung into his saddle and spurred his warhorse toward the fallen archer, riding off to investigate, leaving me to sway on my feet. I could feel it now—the bolt had been poisoned.

I swallowed hard. My head was already growing light, my limbs sluggish.

"Bad wound," Nighteyes observed worridly, pressing against my side to keep me steady.

I gritted my teeth and reached down, wrapping my fingers around the bolt. I yanked it free. The pain was sharp, immediate—but what was worse was the dark, oily substance smeared along the iron tip. Poison. And I had no idea what kind.

I heard Verity curse carry from where he knelt by the archer’s corpse. He was back in the saddle within moments, riding swiftly back to me, his face grim. “Fitz, someone was Skill-controlling him. He didn’t just die—his mind was ripped away before I could reach it.”

I barely heard him. My head was spinning. My fingers felt numb.

Then Verity’s gaze dropped to my side.

His expression changed instantly. The careful composure of a king gave way to something raw. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” I said, though my legs wobbled beneath me.

“It is not nothing.” Verity was off his horse in an instant. He caught me before I could fall, his grip firm as he pressed a hand to my wound. I heard him curse softly under his breath as his fingers came away slick with blood.

My jaw clenched. “Arrow was poisoned" I bit out "I don’t know the antidote.” The smell and look of the oil on the arrow was unfamiliar to me.

A muscle ticked in Verity’s jaw, but he wasted no time. He yanked free a strip of cloth from his own cloak and bound it tightly around my side, swiftly cinching the makeshift bandage.

“I’m taking you to Buckkeep,” he said.

“No,” I rasped. “I can’t—”

“Be silent,” Verity snapped, his voice sharper than I had ever heard it. He was no longer just Verity. He was my king, and there was no room for argument in his tone.

He seized me under the arm, hauling me toward his horse. I tried to protest, but the world was already tilting precariously around me. My limbs had no strength, and when he lifted me, I could do nothing to stop him. Verity swung me onto his warhorse with ease, pulling me against his chest so I would not fall. “Hold on,” he ordered.

Then he spurred the horse into motion.

The night blurred around us. The trees became dark streaks against a moonlit sky. Nighteyes ran alongside us, a reassuring presence in my fading awareness.

The poison burned in my veins, slowing my thoughts. Verity's voice rumbled in my ear. “Eyes open Fitz” He orderd, joustling me roughly in the saddle as the horse galloped onwards, despite the rough words a glint of fear tinted the edges. "You can sleep when we get to Buck" He said more gently

My body felt heavy, my vision blurry, and a fevered, choking feeling settled in my chest.

I tried to sort through my muddle of thoughts. Tried to separate my aching head and side from the pounding of the horse's hooves. I gripped the one clear repeating thought I had: I could not go back to Buckeep. I had to get off the horse. If I went back to Buckeep, if I let Verity take me, they would all know. They would find out I was still alive. They'd know I was witted.

They would despise me.

A mob of townsfolk would burn me.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

I needed to get away.

“Verity,” I mumbled, my voice slurred, “I can’t go back there.”

I was beginning to shiver, but I twisted in Verity’s grip, desperate to free myself. “Let me go..” I rasped. “I can’t… I can’t go back. I can’t!”

I sensed Verity startle as he realised what I was about to do, his voice snapped with authority. “Don’t.”

But it was too late. The need to escape was too strong, and my mind was clouded by fever and panic. With all the force I had left, I tried to throw myself off the horse. My legs swung over the side, my body twisting and unsteady.

Verity shouted something, but I barely heard him. I was already sliding off the saddle, my hands reaching for the ground, when his arm shot out and grabbed me.

“No!” he barked, his voice deep with a command that rattled through me like thunder. He yanked me back toward him with such force that I gasped, pain flaring through my side. The wound—my wound—was like fire, searing through me, and I tried to curl in on myself to escape it.

But Verity wasn’t letting me go. “Stop it!" He snapped "Are you trying to end yourself?” He pulled me back into the saddle, slowing his horse to a trot, and forcing me to sit still, even as I struggled weakly against him.

I glared at him through fever-glazed eyes “Set me down,” I muttered, my voice weak. “I can’t go back there…”

Verity’s grip tightened, and I felt his chest heave with frustration. He swore under his breath. “Do you really believe I would let anyone harm my own nephew under my own roof? You are being a fool!”

That made me give a breathless laugh, like he'd made a great joke “The fool was very smart” I slurred, then grimaced against the pain, and frowned trying to regain my chain of thought. “I don’t want them to know. I don’t want Molly, or Burrich, or anyone to know. You don’t understand...”

“I understand perfectly.” Verity’s voice was tight with anger at my recklessness, but I felt him battle to regain his composure. He sighed and said more gently "I am not planning to announce your return home with fanfare and trumpet Fitz, I will tell no more people than need know of your presence, for the moment"

I shook my head, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I could feel the poison creeping on the edges of my thoughts. It was getting harder to focus, to stay conscious. But there was one thing I had to get through to him.

I turned my head to look at him, my face pale and strained with the effort. “Swear to me, Verity,” I said, my voice shaking. “Swear that if you take me back to Buckeep, you’ll keep my presence a secret. Tell no one, no one, but Chade and Kettricken. Swear it…. Please…” I begged.

Verity’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he looked away, jaw tight. He didn’t speak for a what felt like a long time. I could feel the weight of his silence, his internal conflict.

"Do you know how impertinent it is for a subject to demand an oath of their king FitzChivalary?" he said at last.

Even in my fevered state I knew I'd overstepped. Verity gave me a hard accessing look. I think he was giving serious consideration to simply burning a skill command into my mind of: "sit still and behave" like I was some naughty child or recalcitrant hound. And for moment I feared he would, but finally, he let out a long, slow frustrated breath.

“Very well Fitz. Since you make unfortunate habit of saving my life -at great cost yourself…and rarely accept reward….I will swear what you have asked.” he said solemnly.

I nodded, feeling myself relax slightly. It was a small victory, but one I sorely needed. Too late I realised I was smiling, I tried to school my features but Verity had already noticed and it did not please him.

“Do not expect such oaths so readily from me in the future boy… Presumptuousness ill suits you…" Verity muttered sternly, then urged his horse once more to resume a gallop.

Verity's arm was like a vice around me for the rest of the journey, through my wit I could feel the tension in him—the anger at my stubbornness. And yet, as he guided the horse onward, I sensed something else beneath his frustration: the weight of his worry.

“You are as stubborn as Chivalry,” he muttered under his breath some miles later. “I may be your king, but you are my family, Fitz. Do you think I could simply have left you to perish out here alone?”

I couldn’t answer him. My head lulled against his chest, and the world faded. I was so tired. The darkness was too inviting.

Chapter Text

I came sluggishly back to consciousness, dimly aware of linen sheets and a feather mattress beneath me. My side throbbed, as my eyes flickered open, memories flooding back—the ambush, the crossbow bolt. Panic rose in my chest. I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it as fire lanced through my side. A hand pressed gently on my shoulder, easing me back down.

"Easy, Fitz. The poison's been purged, but the wound needs time to heal."

Verity. My eyes found him sitting beside the bed, looking weary but relieved.

I surveyed the room, but struggled to see much the dim light. It was evening. The bed I was in, was a huge four poster vessel. Thick tapestries adorned the stone walls and it smelled of strewn reeds, leather, and the faintest hint of Kettricken's mountain herbs. The room was familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Where am I?" My voice came out rough, scratchy.

"My private chambers. As I swore, only Kettricken and Chade know you're here."

I gave a nod, thinking back to the oath he had made me. Then his earlier words floated back to me: I did not answer, because I chose not to.

My anger sparked.

"How are you feeling?" he asked "You've been feverish" he leant forward reaching out his hand as if to take my temperature with the back of it.

"Fine." I said jerking my head away from him

Verity frowned, but retracted his hand. "Chade says you'll need at least two weeks of bed rest."

"I'll be gone before that." I shifted, testing my strength.

"Oh?" Verity's voice had an edge to it now. "Gone where exactly?"

"Back to my cabin. Or somewhere else. It doesn't matter."

"That is foolishness Fitz. You're still feverish."

I ignored him and quested for my wolf. I found Nighteyes roaming the woods near the castle.

"Little brother! You are back with us!" He greeted upon our contact.

I practically felt his tail wagging. It made me smile

"I will greet properly you soon. I am hunting with elder sister. We will bring meat back to make you strong again!"

Elder sister? I queried confused.

"The high bitch. I would not normally have left you, but I knew her mate, elder brother would take good care of you. He has been tending your wounds a time now. He is pack"

Elder brother? What happened to 'the dragon?' I demanded of Nighteyes with a prickle. And he is not pack! We are not staying here! I sent, feeling a pang of resentment at him for what I saw as colluding with Verity whilst I'd been unconscious.

I was about to share this with him but then Nighteyes was gone, his mind rushing from mine, becoming fully absorbed in a rabbit chase

Verity seemed to guess at what I was doing.

"Your wolf has been by your side almost constantly. Only left when hunger drove him."

I gave him a curt nod, then crossed my arms and leaned back against the headboard, closing my eyes. Even that small movement sent a fresh throb of pain through my side. I’d give myself a few minutes for it to subside—then I’d get up and go. I had no intention of staying.

Verity frowned tiring of my short answers. "So… I see two days in bed have not cooled that hot head of yours, and you are still in a temper with me FitzChivalry?"

I opened my eyes and shrugged sulkily, childishly, but still felt fully justified in my anger.

Verity folded his hands together, studying me as if he weighed what I could bear to hear. Then, with a quiet sigh, he spoke. "You still believe I ignored you because I didn’t care.” He paused, frowning. “But that’s not the truth of it. I felt your loneliness, Fitz. Worse—I felt your despair. But if I’d answered you, if I had let you cling to me through the Skill… I knew you’d never have let go.”

I flinched before I could stop myself. The words cut deep because they were true.

Verity did not relent. “Tell me honestly, Fitz. What would you have done? If you'd heard me. Hovered about the stone garden like a lost pup, waiting for scraps of conversation? Sat beside my dragon, speaking only to me in your mind, while the real world slipped further and further from your grasp?”

I clenched my jaw and looked away. Trying to ignore what I couldn't convincingly deny.

He leaned forward. “Or would you have been tempted to lose yourself in the Skill entirely? To slip into its currents, to drift away into something vast and empty, until you weren’t FitzChivalry anymore but some ghost murmuring in the tides of magic?”

I shut my eyes tight. Trying block out his words.

“I learned things whilst I was in the Elderling City, Fitz,” Verity went on, softer now, as if reasoning with a stubborn child. “Of others who stayed too long in the stone garden, waiting to hear a whisper from their stone-bound loved ones. There was a mother whose daughter sealed herself in a dragon. The mother never truly left. She wasted away in that place, speaking to a creature that could no longer truly answer her, not really…not properly… until her mind eroded and she scarcely recalled who she’d been before.”

He exhaled sharply. “I could not let that happen to you. Would not let it happen to you”

I swallowed hard, aching for him to stop—but he didn’t.

Verity’s gaze shifted to the window, where the silver light of the rising moon spilled into the room. His eyes took on that distant look I remembered—when he was far away in the Skill.

“We lack the words to truly explain it, Fitz. But…” His voice gentled, almost reverent. “Being merged with the stone dragon—time moved differently. Both stretched and stood still. It didn’t feel like living. Not like this.”

I watched him, my anger cooling, curiosity rising in its place.

“I wasn’t in the dragon exactly,” he said slowly. “I was more in the stream of the Skill itself. The dragon was... an anchor. A portal back to this existence. I was mostly an observer. A presence. I could sense much, but directing my will was… complex. I was connected to everything—and yet completely apart.”

I frowned, trying to make sense of it. “But you said you heard me.”

“Yes,” Verity said, not meeting my gaze. “But speaking back? That was another matter entirely. Time... twisted there. A few moments of conversation for me might have stretched into years—for you. I had no way to measure it.”

Then he locked eyes with me, his voice firm. “Think about it, Fitz. If I had answered you—even just once—you’d have clung to that. You’d have waited endlessly for every last scrap of my voice.”

He shook his head.

“Don’t you see? It would have driven you mad. Truly. You’d have spent your whole life listening for whispers from stone.”

I wanted to protest—but I couldn’t. The truth of it settled over me like a heavy blanket.

“You deserved a life,” Verity said softly. “Not to be trapped in an endless vigil.”

He was right. As much as a wreck as I was now, I unwilling saw a future for myself where I would have been a raving mad man…

"And one day..." Verity's voice dropped lower, a note of warning to it, "maybe you would have grown tired of waiting. You would have tried to wake me up." He looked away, his jaw tightening. "And I would have needed to feed, Fitz, and keep feeding to stay with you. To never sleep again"

A chill ran through me as I understood his meaning.

"We both know what dragons feed on." His eyes locked with mine, unblinking and dark. "So, who would you have sacrificed for my sustenance? Yourself? Someone else?" He shook his head slowly. "That would have quickly twisted into a dark path for both of us."

I had never considered this. The thought of Verity as a hungry dragon, demanding memories and emotions to sustain himself in our world... I swallowed hard.

"I would never—" I began.

"Wouldn't you?" Verity cut me off. "To save me? To bring me back? You, who have always been so ready to sacrifice yourself for the Farseers? For your king?" His voice softened with something like pity. "You would have fed me until there was nothing left of yourself. Or worse, you might have begun to see others as mere fuel for your king's return. "

I couldn't deny it. I had already proven what I was willing to do for duty, for family, for the ones I loved. Where would I have drawn the line?

"It would have corrupted what we were to each other," Verity continued. " You would have become my keeper, my supplier... and I would have become your addiction, your purpose. Neither of us whole. Neither of us free."

He reached out, placing his large calloused hand on mind. "I couldn't do that to you. Not after everything you'd already given."

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of truth in his words settle over me. The anger that had sustained me began to crumble, leaving behind only exhaustion.

"But… " I felt my bottom lip quiver traitorously "But I missed you…" I said stubbornly. Stupidly. Like it was something that made a difference. Tears hot and angry slid down my face.

I couldn't stand for Verity to see me like this. Pathetic. Weak. I rolled onto my good side, back to Verity, face hidden from him. Jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached. I willed the tears to stop, but they continued to slide down my face. My pride burning as felt my king's eyes on me.

Behind me, I heard nothing for a long moment. No words of comfort, no movement. At least he didn't voice the disgust he must be feeling. For that at least I was grateful.

Then, without warning, something warm and fierce surged into me. Not words, not thoughts, but a wave of feeling—strong, quiet, undeniable. It's source was unmistakably Verity. Wordlessly skilling. Affection, steady as stone walls around me. Protection, like a shelter from the wind. Understanding, deep and without demand. It flooded into the hollow places inside me before I could raise walls against it.

It shattered me.

A ragged sob tore from my throat, and once it started, I couldn't stop. Grief, raw and unspent, erupted from somewhere deep, too deep to bury again. Tears wrung themselves from me in gasping, helpless waves. For Verity. For everything I'd lost. For the hollow space inside me where the Skill had once been. For the beatings in Regal's dungeons. For the arrow head that been wrenched from me in the mountains. For the loss of Molly, and Burrich and Nettle. For everything I'd not dared to let out since he'd left my life, through fear it would pull me down in a raw wave of grief and consume me.

The bed shifted. A hand on my shoulder. Strong, sure. Then arms came around me, pulling me in. I fought, weak as I was, but Verity only tightened his hold. My fists curled into his tunic, gripping hard, as if that could anchor me.

He said nothing. No reassurances, no quieting words. Just his arms around me, steady, unyielding. Holding me through it.

Eventually, the storm passed. My sobs quieted, leaving only shuddering breaths and the raw ache in my chest. I rested against Verity, exhausted, my face pressed against the rough fabric of his tunic. Embarrassment crept in like an unwelcome guest. I was too old for this. Too old to be weeping into another man's chest.

But I couldn't quite bring myself to let go.

When my breathing evened out Verity’s grip on me loosened, but he kept his arms around me. He shifted, resting his chin against the top of my head, his voice a low rumble.

"You've carried too much for too long." His breath stirred my hair. "It's well past time you set some of it down." Verity said.

I sniffed, and he brought one of his large hands up to ruffle my hair, I felt as if I were a boy again, sitting at his feet in his tower room. Something in me eased.

Verity's hand stayed on my head, his warm thick fingers started absently moving through my hair. Slow and gentle, kneading my scalp. In much the same way he'd once petted his favorite hunting hound Leon, when the beast was sprawled at his feet beside the hearth. The rhythm was soothing, hypnotic almost, and seemed to match my gradually slowing heartbeat. Each pass of his fingers seemed to pull tension from my body.

My fists unclenched. My muscles softened, my spine melted down from its usual stiff coil.

My eyelids grew heavy, each blink lasting longer than the one before.. The wound in my side throbbed dully now, rather than sharply, and exhaustion from the poison and my emotional outburst wrapped around me like heavy wool. I leaned against Verity, and thought of how Leon had done the same when Verity scratched his head. Of how the hound had leaned against Verity's leg and blinked slow with contentment.

Under the peace, a flicker of embarrassment twitched in me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been held like this. How much a part of me had craved the deep comfort that a simple undemanding touch brought—but…

It also made me feel stupidly tame. Docile.

I couldn't help but wonder, did Verity only think of me as one of his hounds? Some castle stray he'd felt pity for and adopted into his pack… a pup that couldn't stop following him about, so he may as well put to use?

Good old Fitz, bedraggled and loyal and waiting for a pat on the head? A sleepy annoyance surfaced at myself for allowing myself to fall apart on him so easily

"M'not a dog," I muttered, my words slurring with approaching sleep. "Don't need... petting."

But despite my protest, I didn't pull away. And even to me it sounded a sort of petulant assertion of my independence.

Verity's chest rumbled with a soft chuckle. "No, you're not a dog, FitzChivalry." He agreed. His fingers continued their gentle movements. But he started to comb in his fingers through my hair now, stopping to gently undo any tangles, less like massaging a beast's head, more like grounding a person adrift. His other arm, still around me protectively tightened.

I felt the fuzzy seams between sleep and wakefulness blurring again. Perhaps being one of Verity's hunting dogs was not such a bad thing. I thought of him fretting over Leon's lack of appetite when I'd gone on my first mission with him to Neat Bay and smiled. Perhaps better by far to be Verity's favourite hunting dog, than King Shrewd's disposable Assassin….

A dog, then. Fine. Dogs got warmth. Dogs got rest. I’d settle for it, just for a moment.

"…suppose…you always did care well for your hounds at least..." I muttered almost asleep. I felt hot. Perhaps I was still feverish? Verity's hand paused. I instantly missed the loss of contact and stirred. Sensing a shift in him. A flicker of tension. I drew a shallow breath to sit up—and then Verity Skill-pushed another wave of feeling toward me.

This time it was lighter than breath. No force behind it, no pressure. Just warmth, like sunlight through a window. A gentle nudge. So soft I could’ve closed my thoughts against it if I’d wanted to.

I didn’t.

It curled around the sore spots of my mind like balm. Warmth. Safety. Belonging. Affection.

It wasn’t a command, not like Galen’s Skilling had always been. It was an offering.

"You are not a dog" Verity repeated, his voice a low vibration above my ear. "You are much more precious than that." His fingers resumed their gentle motion. "Far more troublesome, too." I felt the smile in his voice. Then I heard his voice inside my head.

Rest now, Fitz. You're safe.

Again no command, just an invitation. Verity leaving the true decision up to me.

We'll talk more when you're stronger

A distant part of me wanted to argue that I wasn't tired, that we should finish our conversation now, but the words wouldn't form. The steady rhythm of his hand on my head, the solid warmth of his presence—it all conspired against my determination to remain alert.

My eyes closed fully. I felt myself drifting, anchored only by Verity's presence and the reassuring weight of his arms.

"That's it" Verity said softly, his fingers still moving through my hair. "Just sleep."

As sleep began to claim me, a strange thought drifted through my mind: perhaps I was more like Verity's hounds than I cared to admit. Devoted, protective, willing to follow where he led. How natural it felt to be here, how readily I'd placed myself between him and danger without a second thought. How the sense of that crossbow bolt had sparked a fierce, protective instinct that overrode all reason.

The last vague thought that drifted through my mind: Is this how his hounds had felt? This strange mixture of comfort and submission? This sense of being claimed and protected at once? There was something humbling in it, yet oddly soothing too. To be reduced to something so simple—a creature under the hand of a caring master.

The thought should have bothered me more than it did. Instead, it settled over me like a familiar blanket as I finally surrendered to sleep.

Chapter Text

The fever burned in me for another day and night. Memories only formed in fragments. Verity's steady presence. Kettricken coaxing some bitter mountain brew past my lips.. Chade pressing a cloth cool against my brow and working a fresh bandage tight…

I drifted back to lucidity awakening once again in Verity's dimly lit chamber, his thick curtains were drawn against the light and I had difficulty distinguishing the time of day. Verity and Chade stood next to the window discussing something in hushed urgent tones. They had not noticed I was awake. Nighteyes was curled sleeping in a ball by my hip, if not for my wit, I would barely have distinguished him from the mountain of warms furs that cocooned me up to my chin.

“…The ambassador and his entourage have been waiting three days already…” Chade’s voice. “I can’t keep telling them you’re…'occupied'. Though I've of course provided all manner of entertainment…but they're becoming agitated. They’ll take it as an affront if you don't grant them an audience soon. If my king had let me know he was in the mind to arrange a family reunion I would have scheduled their visit for another month(!)…Not that I'm not glad to see the boy-But the ambassador's delegation will go back claiming we’ve insulted Chalced royalty, and then—”

“-I know what they’ll do, Chade.” Verity began to pace. “But I can’t divide my mind right now.” He passed a hand through his ever unruly hair, it was longer now, and suited him well that length, like a mane on a lion. “If the assassin was merely a rogue, fine. But he was Skilled. And sent. That’s the blade I don’t dare turn my back to...”

Chade exhaled slowly. “I understand... But you’ve been at Fitz’s bedside for four days straight... Kettricken and I can’t stall much longer. The Queen has done her best, but it's the King's word they must have if the treaty is to go ahead… " Chade paused as if to let the weight of his words sink in "Verity, I can watch over Fitz for a time, just like I have since he was a boy ” He added more gently.

A warmth unrelated to my fever spread through my chest. Four days. Verity—the King of the Six Duchies—had sat sentinel at my sickbed for four days straight. The same man I had so angrily dismissed from my cabin, whom I had accused of abandonment. I nearly shifted to call out, to tell him I was awake and well enough that he need not neglect his duties any longer.

Then memory crashed over me like winter surf. How I’d clung to him like a child drowning, weeping uncontrollably. Heat flooded my face. My King. My uncle. The man who had trusted me with the most difficult and dangerous of missions…Had witnessed me abandon every shred of dignity I possessed.

…Yet Verity had not turned away. He had held me, comforted me, called me precious. Those memories twisted within me, a tangle of gratitude and mortification. I felt weak, too exposed...

I shut my eyes and kept my breathing deliberately slow and even, feigning sleep. I couldn't face him yet.

Nighteyes stirred against my leg. You are awake. They will know soon enough.

Not yet. I pleaded silently. Let me have this moment to gather myself.

Pride. He huffed in my mind. Such a strange thing to humans. Would you rather have bled to death with your dignity intact?

Nighteyes opened his eyes allowing me to watch both men without opening mine.

"Alright Uncle." I heard Verity grumble resignedly to Chade "I'll go meet with the ambassador. But don't badger the boy about this…business if he wakes whilst I'm gone."

"But surely a few questions would not hurt..?" Chade proposed. "We know precious little about this assassin. Fitz might have observed something we've overlooked. He has a trained eye for such details-"

"-No. The boy nearly died, Chade." Verity folded his arms. "Let him alone to heal."

"But he may even help us track down whoever sent—"

"-I said no." Verity's voice dropped into a quiet tone that brooked no argument—the King's voice, not the uncle's. "Fitz will do nothing but rest."

Chade's lips thinned, but he dipped his chin in acquiescence. "As you command, my King."

Verity sighed "I'm not commanding as your King, Chade. I'm asking as Fitz's uncle." His tone softened. "Look at him. Truly look." He waved towards where I lay "He's been living alone in a broken-down cabin, speaking to no one but his wolf. He's been wounded in body and spirit. Whatever obligations we once held over him, they're done."

I kept my breathing steady, but inside I felt strange. My pride prickled defensively, but yet I felt touched by Verity's protectiveness.

"The boy has given enough," Verity continued. "More than enough. If he wakes, you'll speak only of his recovery. Not of assassins or intrigue or duty."

They still speak of you as a cub, Nighteyes observed, amused.

Old habits, I replied, though privately I wondered if I had acted like anything but a cub recently.

The wolf shifted. The old one will not listen. He will ask his questions the moment your eyes open.

I suppressed a smile. Nighteyes knew Chade almost as well as I did. My old mentor had never been one to abandon a hunt once the scent was in his nose.

Chade looked as if he warred internally with himself and Verity's words for a moment, but finally seemed to come to a decision. "Very well, my King." He grumbled eventually "But Fitz is strong, perhaps stronger than he is being given full credit for…"

"I know exactly how strong Fitz is." Verity's voice held firm. "That's why I won't ask for more."

“As you wish it my King,” Chade answered with clipped formality and an incline of his head that disguised the frustration I felt radiating off him with my wit.

Verity moved to the door, but paused with his hand on the latch. "Chade, I haven't said it, but... thank you. For keeping the ambassador occupied these past days. Be assured I do appreciate it. " He turned, meeting the older man's eyes. "All of it. The work behind every veil, every wall.

Seen and unseen.”

Chade blinked, clearly caught off guard. I do not think he would have received such thanks from Shrewd. The old King had valued his assassin, certainly—but their relationship had been one of command and execution, not gratitude. I suspected King Shrewd had never openly thanked Chade for the work he'd done, the sacrificies he'd made.

Shrewd had viewed Chade's loyalty as his due, a thing to be expected rather than appreciated. I wondered if my uncle realized how much such simple words meant to the old man who had devoted his life to the Farseer throne, receiving nothing but secrecy in return.

Chade had said before that Verity had lacked that ability to make people feel seen, I hadn't agreed with that…but regardless Verity now seemed determined to correct the fault in himself, and I was happy for it. I felt a sense of gladness that Verity growing so well into his role as king.

"Well…" Chade said with a respectful inclination of his head. "It is... refreshing to be acknowledged, my King." Then—the smallest of huffs escaped Chade, not quite laughter, but kin to it. " I believe you're developing a talent for flattery that would have made even your brother envious. If his majesty keeps this up, the Chalced ambassador shan't have a chance during the negotiations "

Verity's laugh was quiet but genuine. "Not flattery when it's true. I'll return as soon as I can." Verity promised, casting one last glance in my direction before departing.

Chade stood looking at the door for a moment after it closed, his face softened in a way I rarely saw.

The old one is pleased, Nighteyes observed.

Yes, I agreed. More than he shows.

I heard Chade tread lightly towards the bed studying me as he approached, and I kept my face slack. The old man's presence was familiar comfort, like the smell of the herbs that always clung to his clothing.

"You can stop feigning sleep now, boy."

I startled despite myself, eyes flying open to find Chade's knowing gaze fixed on me. Fingers stroking his chin.

"How—" I began, then stopped, heat climbing my neck.

"How did I know?" Chade gave me a look that plainly told me not to insult his intelligence, nor his competence at his craft. He settled into the chair beside my bed. Eyes still on me.

I shifted uncomfortably under the furs. "I wasn't—"

"How much did you hear?" he interrupted.

"Not much," I mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Just... just the part where Verity thanked you. I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

Chade's eyes narrowed slightly. The silence stretched between us until I wanted to squirm like a scolded child. Finally, he tilted his head.

"And what did you mean to do, then?"

I floundered for words, sinking lower into the blankets. "I just... I didn't want to interrupt that moment between you and Verity. It seemed... private."

Chade's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Don't lie to a liar, Fitz."

I grimaced slightly at the rebuke, bracing myself for the interrogation I knew would follow. This was the opening Chade needed to delve into his questions. His eyes gleamed with the familiar hunger for information, and I could almost see the queries forming behind them.

Then, surprisingly, something in his face softened. He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"It's good to see you awake, Fitz," he said instead, his voice gentler than I expected. "How are you feeling?"

I blinked at him, momentarily stunned by this change of course. I had been certain he would ignore Verity's instructions the moment he had me alone and conscious…

"I—" I hesitated, genuinely assessing my condition for the first time. "I suppose…not too bad all things considered..." Answered feeling a little surprised myself. My side burns," I admitted, hand hovering over the bandaged wound. "But not as badly as it should." I frowned, puzzled. "A crossbow bolt, poison, blood loss... I should be half-dead. The way I've been these past few months, even a cold leaves me bedridden for weeks…." I trailed off wondering at that.

Chade's lips quirked upward. "Verity," he said simply. "He used the skill to heal you."

"The skill?" I asked confused.

"He's been studying Solicity's old skill scrolls since returning. Has quite the talent for healing now." Chade explained with a quiet hint of pride. "Says it's like carving in stone, but in reverse—instead of removing what doesn't belong, he encourages what should be there. Kettricken says it sounds more like gardening. Truly fascinating…I have assisted by sharing some of my anatomy knowledge with him… "

As Chade stood and opened the curtains to let more light into the room, then leaned over me to check my bandages, I could see his face more clearly now with the added light. I stared.

"Chade—your scars."

The marks that had ravaged his face since before I'd known him had faded dramatically. Light ghosts of them were still on his skin, but only if one knew where to look.

He touched his cheek self-consciously, a smile warming his eyes. "Verity's handiwork," he confirmed. "Says an old man deserves some vanity in his final decades. I can't say I disagree"

Something swelled in my chest—pride for Verity, for what he'd become. The King I'd felt he always could be if given the chance.

Chade also looked well, better dressed and less wraith like than I remembered. Polished, I decided was the word for it.

"I want to help," I said abruptly, pushing myself higher against the pillows. "With the assassin. I can help track them. What do we know so far?"

Chade's eyebrows raised in surprise then his expression became unreadable, but the familiar intensity I expected never materialized. "That's… not for you to worry about now, Fitz. The King wishes you to rest"

I opened my mouth to protest, but Chade interrupted, holding up a hand before I could speak. "Your only concern is recovery."

I stared at him, bewildered. This wasn't the Chade I knew—the spymaster who squeezed every drop of information from any source available.

"It's time to change your bandages," he announced, rising to gather supplies from a nearby table.

I felt oddly like a child denied a treat. "Chade—"

"These need changing, boy. Unless you'd prefer to risk infection?"

I was unsure what to say, had he not argued passionately for my involvement? Why deny me now? But I could hardly admit that I had heard that part of their conversation after I'd just told him I hadn't.

A surprised realization rose in me at my own eagerness to involve myself in yet another Farseer intrigue. Just days ago, I'd wanted nothing more than to fade back into the anonymity of my forest cabin, to whittle my days away with knife and wood and wolf for company. Yet here I was, already itching to know more, to be useful again.

You truly wish to help them hunt this man? Nighteyes asked.

I do, I realized with some surprise. I actually do.

I thought of Verity—A man that had been willing to sacrifice his life for the Six Duchies and his people. A king finally worthy of the throne he'd inherited. A king who'd sat by my bedside for days despite pressing matters of state. I would not voice it, but I already thought him ten times the King Shrewd had been.

He is a good alpha, Nighteyes agreed, sensing my thoughts. Worth protecting.

I scratched behind his ears, grateful for his understanding. Yes. Worth protecting. But afterward...

Afterward we return to our den, Nighteyes finished. To our quiet and our peace.

I nodded, feeling clearer about my path than I had in months. I would help Verity this one last time—help him uncover who had sent the assassin. And then I would go home to my cabin, to carve wood, write my journals, hunt with Nighteyes and live quietly. Not running anymore, just living.

I just needed to convince Verity to let me help him. Which suddenly seemed to have become an unexpectedly difficult task…

"Chade we need to talk-"

"-Here, drink this." Chade ordered pushing a cup of water at me, I was forced to take otherwise it would have spilled over me. "Your lips are cracked from fever. Drink."

I sipped reluctantly, not realizing how parched I was until the cool water touched my tongue. Before I knew it, I'd drained the cup.

Chade set about unwrapping my bandages with deft fingers.

I winced as the cloth pulled away from the wound. "About the assassin—"

"-More?" Chade asked, ignoring my attempt to question him, taking my cup, then refilling it from a pitcher.

"When did you become such a nursemaid?" I grumbled, though I accepted the second cup just as eagerly.

"Oh, about the time you decided to get shot with a poison arrow. Now hold still" Chade began to unwrap the bandage, peeling back layers of linen.

I peeked at my wound. It looked nasty but nowhere near as bad as I'd expected. "Is Kettricken aware—"

"-Ah the yes the Queen- she's commissioned a monument to the Elderlings at the harbor entrance you know… Quite magnificent if the models are any indication. Hold still now. They're expanding the harbor you know…" Chade transitioned smoothly, peeling back the final layer of linen. I knew that he was trying to distract me "Three new piers to accommodate the increased trade with the Out Islands. Quite remarkable progress given the winter we had."

I clenched my teeth as he cleaned the wound with a pungent solution, that stung. "Impressive that the Queen finds time for monuments between diplomatic duties, perhaps she has a list of possible suspects—ow!" I yelped as Chade prodded my side with unexpected roughness.

"Oh yes Kettricken is very busy, and you should see Prince Dutiful," Chade remarked, tying off the bandage. "Crawling everywhere. Kettricken can hardly keep up with him." A proud smile warmed his face. "Strong little lad. Reminds me of Verity at that age—stubborn as an ox and twice as determined."

"He's crawling already?" I couldn't hide my surprise. The baby I remembered had barely been able to roll over. Then I cursed myself for letting Chade redirect the conversation.

"And pulling himself up on furniture. Nearly toppled a vase from Bingtown last week—priceless thing. Kettricken just laughed." Chade shook his head, but his eyes sparkled. "Says she'd rather have a curious child than perfect pottery."

And so it went. For the next hour, Chade maintained this steady stream of inconsequential news—harbor expansions, trade agreements, the cook's new bread recipe, the spring planting in Buckkeep's gardens. Each time I attempted to steer the conversation toward matters of substance—the assassin, Skilled attackers, diplomatic tensions, possible suspects—he'd seamlessly redirect with another bit of castle gossip. Eventually I gave up and just let him talk. Hoping he might inadvertently drop some useful titbit of knowledge into the the conversation.

"My boy, you must be famished. I'll fetch something from the kitchens." he announced at one point. "You need proper nourishment."

"I need proper answers.." I countered, but he was already slipping out the door.

When he returned, he carried a tray laden with a steaming bowl of soup and a small loaf of bread still warm from the ovens. Despite my frustration, my stomach growled appreciatively at the rich aroma.

"Venison stew," Chade announced with satisfaction.

I tore into the bread, still warm enough that butter melted instantly across its surface. The flavor exploded across my tongue—yeasty, slightly sweet, with hints of rosemary. Nothing like the rock hard, flat breads I'd managed to produce in my cabin kitchen.

"This is..." I paused, swallowing a mouthful. "I'd forgotten how Buckkeep bread tastes."

"Good?" Chade asked, chuckling.

I nodded vigorously already for another piece of bread to sop up the broth.

By the time I'd finished the meal, I felt more human than I had in months. I leaned back against the pillows, momentarily content to let Chade prattle on about the new tapestries in the Great Hall without pressing him for more substantial information. After a time I began to feel drowsy again, my eyelids started droop and I felt myself drifting toward sleep.

I slipped into the dream without warning, the world stretching and swirling like smoke before reforming into Buckeep's grand audience chamber.

Verity sat on the throne, straight-backed and attentive. Kettricken stood beside him, no longer the uncertain mountain girl who had first arrived at court, but every inch a Queen of the Six Duchies.

Before them stood a man in elaborate clothing—the ambassador that Verity had mentioned, I realized. His words came to me in fragments, meaning lost between snatches of sound.

"...trade routes through the Mountain Kingdom..."

"...assurances from my King that..."

"...mutual benefit to both our..."

Though I couldn't grasp the full conversation, the emotions in the room flowed through me like wine. The ambassador's measured respect tinged with calculation. Kettricken's cool assessment. And from Verity—confidence. Not the brash certainty of a young ruler, but something deeper and more solid.

Verity didn't enjoy this performance of diplomacy—I could sense that much. Yet he conducted it with a steady hand and sharp mind. He spoke briefly, his words lost to me, but the ambassador nodded with clear satisfaction.

Kettricken leaned forward, adding something to the discussion. The ambassador's expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration. Verity glanced at his Queen, unmistakable pride radiating from him.

They worked together seamlessly—Verity's straightforward practicality balanced by Kettricken's nuanced understanding of alliances and intentions. A formidable pair.

The meeting concluded with formal bows, and the ambassador departed. As the doors closed behind him, Kettricken turned to Verity, her formal demeanor softening.

"How is Fitz?" Her voice came through with unexpected clarity.

Verity sighed. "His fever broke earlier. A good sign. He's healing. Slowly."

"We should have gone to him sooner." Kettricken's voice held regret, sharp and bright as winter stars. "I'm ashamed we left him alone for so long. All these months..."

"I know."

"We must do better, Verity. He's family." Her hand found his. "We cannot let him suffer alone again."

"We won't," Verity promised. "When he's well enough—"

Pain split my skull like an axe through wood. I gasped awake, the Skill-dream shattered. Agony pulsed behind my eyes, my skull a cage of torment.

"Chade," I croaked, clutching my head. The spymaster appeared instantly at my side, concern etched across his face. "Do you have any elfbark?" I asked abruptly.

Chade's gaze sharpened. "No. And neither should you."

"I need it."

"You need to stop chewing that poison before it kills you. Verity and I agree on that much, at least."

I sank back against the pillows, frustration burning through me alongside the pain. "The elfbark keeps my head clear…."

"It keeps your head empty" Chade corrected sharply. "And that's precisely what Verity believes is the problem."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Chade pulled a chair close to my bedside. His eyes fixed on mine with an intensity I recognized from my apprentice days—the look that preceded an important lesson.

"Verity doesn't believe you've lost the Skill entirely." His voice dropped lower. "He believes your reliance on elfbark has blocked your recovery."

The words landed like stones in still water. I shook my head reflexively, and regretted the way the movement made it throb. "That's impossible. I felt it tear away when I freed him. It's gone, Chade. Gone completely."

"And yet," Chade continued calmly, "Verity felt you reach for him while you were fevered."

"What?"

"Weak, unfocused—but unmistakable. He said it was like hearing someone shouting from the bottom of a well. Distant, but definitely your voice." Chade mused. "You called his name. Asked about Nighteyes. Even complained about the bitter taste of the mountain herbs."

"I don't remember that."

"Of course not. You were delirious." Chade's thin fingers drummed once on the arm of the chair. "But Verity is convinced the connection exists, however faintly. He believes the elfbark has been... muffling it. Like wool stuffed in your ears."

I held my head, trying to absorb this through my pain. Could it be? The emptiness inside me felt so absolute, so final. "And if I stop taking the elfbark?"

"Then perhaps, with time and training, you might rebuild what was damaged."

"But…surely I could have a small amount of elfbark now?" I begged Chade through the throbbing "A small amount couldn't hurt?"

"A small amount of what couldn't hurt?" A deeper voice rumbled.

I turned sharply. Verity stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised.

Chapter Text

"Elfbark." I didn't bother hiding my desperation. "Please, Verity. The pain—"

"No." His voice was firm as he approached the bed. "I'm sorry Fitz."

I let my head fall into my hands, fighting back a wave of nausea. "You don't understand. It feels like someone's driving spikes into my skull!"

The mattress dipped as Verity sat beside me. "I understand better than most" he said quietly. "I had headaches myself at the beginning of the war, do you remember?"

"Yes, of course! You above anyone should understand why I need it!" I snapped. One thing for Chade to deny me, but Verity—someone who'd lived through this himself? "Gods! Just enough to take the edge off. I'm not asking for much. I don't care about recovering the Skill, I don't care about anything but getting rid of this awful pain!"

Verity caught my wrist, pulling one hand away from my head and forcing me to meet his eyes. "Fitz. The elfbark isn't just suppressing your Skill. It's affecting your your mind. The irritability, the melancholy, the isolation—I've watched elfbark work the same changes in myself during the war. I know the pattern well."

I turned my head away, yanking my wrist free, unwilling to consider his words. My body betrayed me as tremors ran through my limbs. "Give me the bark." I repeated "It doesn't have to be a brew—just a tiny bit to chew. Just a pinch, Verity—please." I knew what I sounded like. Desperate. A beggar.

"No, Fitz."

"I'll have a fit if you don't!" My voice took on an edge of hysteria "I can feel it building—the pressure—it's like something inside my skull's going to snap!"

Unable to fight it any longer, I curled into a ball on the bed. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. "Please. Just enough to dull it. Gods, please."

"No elfbark…" Verity's voice remained even, but there some gentleness in it. I felt him shift closer to me on the bed.

A sound escaped me—something between a laugh and a sob. "You really don't understand, do you?" I squeezed my eyes shut against threatening tears. I would not cry near him again. "I'm not even trying to stop the pain now. I just don't want to thrash on the floor with my teeth in my tongue!" The words came out as a snarl, like a trapped animal in pain.

"You won't. I won't let you." Verity moved closer again, his presence crowding me. When I tried to edge away, his voice softened. "Come here, boy."

Verity pulled me toward him. I tried to shrug him off, but in my weakened state, even that small resistance sent new shards of pain through my skull. A pathetic whimper escaped me as he maneuvered my head onto his lap, firmly guiding me until I lay frowning up at him, too tired to hold onto either pride or fury.

"What are you about, Verity?" My voice came out as a miserable whine. "Just leave me alone if you won't give me the elf—"

"Shhh-Be still now." Verity commanded. The tone of his voice made me hold my tongue.

His hand came to rest on my forehead, fingers spread wide. His other hand mirrored the motion, thumbs lightly touching my temples. A hum started behind my eyes—faint, like the echo of a harp string.

Then Verity's presence flowed around the edges of my consciousness like water finding the contours of a stone. He didn't invade my mind but rather enveloped it, creating a buffer between me and the worst of the pain.

"Close your eyes," he murmured.

The first taste of relief made it easy to obey. His little fingers brushed beneath my eyes, and with the contact came a soothing sort of heat. It grew steadily under his touch. The vice around my head loosened, the spikes retreated. I exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension drain from my body.

"Better?" Verity asked quietly, his voice barely more than a rumble.

I nodded weakly against his leg, afraid to move more lest the pain return in full force.

"I can't take it away completely," he explained. "The Skill-headache must run its course. But I can shield you somewhat…."

Even the gentle resonance of his voice seemed to smooth something jagged inside me. We stayed like that some minutes. With my eyes closed I felt Verity's skill current flowing through and around me.

Then I heard Verity sigh.

It sounded sad. I cracked one eye open in question.

"So much damage…" Verity murmured

I stiffened at his words. My mind supplied the context. Damaged goods. The Bastard, the broken tool. I squirmed to pull my head from his lap.

"Of course," I muttered, voice thick with bitterness. "I'm broken. I know."

Verity’s hand caught the back of my neck before I could roll away. His grip was firm but not so tight it hurt. One of his fingers pressed into just the right spot to halt the headache’s crawl.

"That’s not what I meant, Fitz." Verity's voice halted me.

I went still, confusion momentarily overriding my impulse to flee. He gently settled my head back where it was.

"I meant the damage to your head—physical damage." His fingers traced lightly over my scalp. "How many times has your skull been cracked, boy? How many blows to the head have you taken? I can feel the... remnants. Here... and here." His fingers found tender spots I hadn't even been aware of. "Old fractures, poorly healed. Concussions layered upon concussions."

I blinked up at him. "Oh."

"Yes, oh." A hint of exasperation colored his voice. "Your head's been used as a battering ram. It's no wonder your Skill comes and goes like a badly tuned instrument."

I lay still, processing this. It hadn't occurred to me that the beatings, the falls, the battles might have left lasting damage beyond scars, and white streak in my hair...

"Could you..." I hesitated, afraid to hope. "Could you heal it? With the Skill?"

Verity sighed heavily. "I would if I trusted my abilities enough. Head wounds are... complicated. The brain is not like mending bone or flesh. One wrong push and I might leave you worse than before." His fingers continued their gentle exploration. "Perhaps in time, when I've refined my Skill-healing further. For now, this is the best I can offer you."

The relief he provided was modest, but real. I closed my eyes again.

"Thank you" I whispered.

Verity gave me a nod.

As my headache finally ebbed to a dull throb, I opened my eyes. The ceiling wavered slightly, then solidified. Chade had quietly slipped from the room—the spymaster was still skilled in discrete exits.

"I'm sorry" I muttered, staring at the rafters not meeting Verity's eyes.

"For what?"

"For...This. All of this." I gestured vaguely at myself and the rumpled bed. "Me falling apart all over the place and snapping at you. Aren't you tired of minding me like some sniveling infant?” I thought of my other breakdown where I'd sobbed and clung to him, my outbursts at my cabin. I felt myself redden.

His thumbs stilled for a moment on my temples. Then resumed. Calm. Firm. “No.”

"You should be" I muttered. "I would be…" With my oscillations between snarling ingrate and sobbing imbecile it was a wonder Verity still entertained me.

"Would you?" His question carried no judgment, only curiosity. "Would you truly tire of caring for someone you love?"

I had no answer for that. "You have a kingdom to rule," I said eventually. "Duties. Responsibilities. Not... this….Me."

Verity was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "When you were a boy, newly arrived at Buckkeep, I wanted to do more for you. Did you know that?"

I frowned, confused by the change in subject.

"I saw how lonely you were. How bewildered. I wanted to take you riding, teach you to fish in the bay, show you the secret passages I'd discovered as a child." His fingers continued their gentle movement across my temples. "But…Chiv thought it safer that I didn't interact with you, and my father King Shrewd well…" He trailed off "Then when you were older there was always the war, always duties that couldn't wait. There were so many times I should have been there for you, but couldn't be "

"I…I didn't know you'd felt like that…"

Verity sighed. "I should have done more, Chiv's caution be damned… It did him little good in the end anyway…. " He added the last with a bitterness I rarely heard from him, then his voice softened again "But no Fitz, I don't tire of caring for you now. In truth, it feels like a gift—a chance to make up for all those times I couldn't be there for you when you were young."

I swallowed, unexpectedly moved.

"Besides.." He eyes softened with tenderness. "…Did you tire of caring for me when I was lost in Skilling in the tower? When I was barely able to feed myself?"

"That was different," I protested. "You were—"

"Did you tire of tending to me when I carved my dragon?" Verity's question cut gently through my objection. "When you, Kettricken, and the others brought me food I hardly touched, when you kept watch while I worked myself to exhaustion day after day?"

I fell silent, remembering those long days beside the quarry.

"No," I finally admitted.

"Then why would I tire of helping you now?" Verity's hands moved from my temples to rest on my shoulders.

I was silent and digesting his words. He let me contemplate them.

"How is the pain now?" He asked after a few minutes.

I shifted my head, testing the dull ache behind my eyes. Still there, but a quieter drum beat rather than thunder.

"I think I can sit up now."

"Good. Go Slowly." Verity advised, he slipped a hand under my back to help me.

I pushed myself upright, carefully. My skull didn’t split. That felt like progress. I winced, rubbed the side of my head.

"It’s not gone, but it’s bearable. Like someone whispering curses instead of shouting them now."

Verity gave a small nod of approval.

"Thank you," I said again, meaning it. "Even if the elfbark would've been simpler for you." I said with a half smile.

His expression darkened disapprovingly, the way sky changes just before a storm breaks over the sea cliffs. Verity fixed me a stern look.

"Fitz. I want you to understand something: Elfbark is no solution. Not now. Not ever again."

"It's different for me-" I began, I still wasn't particularly convinced by Verity, or Chades' or Kettle's dim view of elf bark.

"No." He cut me off "You think it simpler because it's quick. But it changes you Fitz. Gradually, subtly. It narrows your thinking. Makes destructive choices seem reasonable. I took it constantly during the Red Ship War. I thought I needed it to control the Skill-hunger, to stay alert despite my exhaustion….

I've had time to reflect since returning. I now believe the elfbark didn't just dull my Skill—it influenced my judgment. Made radical solutions seem like the only option." Verity's voice was heavy with confession.

"What do mean?" I asked, though I had the creeping feeling I already knew the answer.

"When I chose to carve myself into the dragon," he said slowly, "I believed it was the only path forward. The only way to save our kingdom." His frown deepened. "But now, with clearer mind, I see there were alternatives I never explored. Ways I might have awakened the Elderlings differently…

There were inscriptions I dismissed, ancient texts I didn't fully translate. Answers that required patience I no longer possessed." Verity's voice was thick with regret. "The elfbark... it narrowed my vision until I could see only one extreme solution. I was convinced carving away my humanity was necessary.

Before that even… I ignored matters at court. Potential allies. Kettricken. Even Galen's coterie-knew they were a danger yes-but I could have tried harder to undo the fanatical loyalty that I'm now sure Galen partly skilled into them…had I been thinking clearly they also could have been part of a solution instead of an added problem….But such thoughts never even occurred to me…"

I swallowed hard, this conversation was making my headache worse again, and I felt a tremor in my hands. Just because Verity had had problems when he took the elfbark didn't mean I did "It-it doesn't affect me that way—" I began but Verity cut me off.

"—Fitz! Listen to yourself… That substance pushed me toward self-destruction. Just as it's doing to you now!"

I turned away from him. He gently but firmly gripped my chin and forced me to look at him. "You've withdrawn from everyone who cares about you. Who'd even have a chance to care about you. Carved off pieces of yourself until you ended up living half a life in a broken down cabin."

I jerked my chin away "It's not a palace-but we can't all be kings!" I growled. "It's a home. It's mine." More than anything at Buckeep had been mine at any rate. Buckeep castle had been different for Verity no doubt, he was a prince and had actually been allowed to grow up feeling like he belonged here..

"I didn't mean to insult your home." Verity replied appeasingly. " But why didn't you ask for help to repair it? Make it more livable? You were clearly not fit to do the work yourself after everything you'd been through…?"

I gave a short bitter laugh. "Ask who? The king? For carpentry work?"

"Yes." Verity's said without hesitation. "I would gladly have sent skilled workmen. You wouldn't even have needed to be there while they worked."

"Right. Royal carpenters dispatched to fix a cottage for a bastard who's supposed to be dead. That wouldn't raise questions." I muttered.

"There are discreet ways to arrange such things, Fitz. You know that." Verity leaned forward. "I would have come myself, if necessary."

I couldn't contain my scoff. "Of course. The King-in-Waiting—no, the actual King now—taking time away from his duties to help his bastard nephew fix a leaky roof. Very believable."

"Do you think so little of me?" Verity's question was quiet, but it struck a cord in me that was like he'd shouted. "After everything we've been through together? After what you sacrificed to bring me back? You really believe I would have refused you aide if you'd requested it?

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The throbbing in my head intensified.

"Fitz…" His hand rested on my shoulder. "I would have come. Not out of obligation or pity, but because I care about you."

I looked up, the earnestness in his face caught me off guard.

"I carved a dragon from stone. You think I couldn't manage helping you repair a cabin?" A smile touched his lips. "I am King, yes, but I'm not useless with tools. During my years patrolling the borders with Chivalry I helped with camp repairs and fortifications."

"That's different," I muttered.

"How?" Verity asked. "We both know what it means to work with our hands. To create something from nothing." He squeezed my shoulder. "The offer still stands. When you are better, and if you wish to return, let me help you make it a proper home?"

I wanted to protest, but found I couldn't form the words. I gave a mute nod and looked down. Still thinking the idea a bit embarrassing and slightly ridiculous.

Verity sighed, I felt through my wit that he was frustrated with me, like I was a puzzle he was attempting to solve, but he shielded it quickly and the feeling became undetectable.

I absently rubbed my head to soothe the dull throb, it was not so bad now.

"The headaches are like muscle aches after training…" He explained observing me "Painful, yes, but not dangerous. They're the sensation of pathways reopening, connections rebuilding." He studied me thoughtfully. "Though yours may be particularly severe, considering how many blows to the head you've taken over the years."

I grimaced at the unwelcome reminder of past injuries.

"They will ease on their own," Verity continued. "I promise you that. But the elfbark only prolongs the healing process and makes the skill hunger worse." He squeezed my shoulder again. "Trust me in this, Fitz. I would not ask it of you otherwise."

I wanted to argue further, tell him he was exaggerating. But beneath my frustration lay an uncomfortable suspicion that he might be right.

"Verity…" i began, deciding it was my turn to change the subject "The assassin ... I want to help track him"

Verity's expression changed, hardening around the edges. "Absolutely not."

"But.." I hadn't quite been prepared for Verity's flat refusal

"You're in no fit shape to do anything boy." Verity cut in, his tone made it clear he was in no mood to argue. "You can barely sit upright."

"I've done this before. I know how they think, how they move. Just let's talk to Chade about it. I could—""

"—I said no." Verity's voice hardened further. "The matter is settled."

"But I—"

"Enough!" Verity thudded his fist against the bedside table, making me jump at the sudden sound. "By every god that watches, Fitz, must you always push? Must you always throw yourself into the path of danger as if your life means nothing?"

I stared at him, startled by his outburst.

"Do you think I want to see you stumble about the castle, half-dead from poison, chasing shadows?" Verity continued, his eyes flashing. "Do you think Kettricken needs the added worry of you collapsing in some corridor? Or perhaps you believe Nighteyes would enjoy watching you risk what little strength you have recovered?"

"I'm just trying to help…" I muttered.

"No." Verity leaned closer. "You're trying to prove something. To me, to yourself—I don't know which. But stop. Just... stop."

I opened my mouth to object, but he cut me off.

"Come now boy, do you truly believe you're the only defense I have against this threat?" Verity's asked. "Your concern is appreciated. But I have a castle full of guards who are sworn to me, and even if I didn't, I am not some feeble weakling. No. I have no need for my injured nephew to act as my shield. No more talk of this nonsense now boy. You will heed your King in this."

"Yes, my king" I murmured. Defeated by his words more effectively than by any physical restraint.

Verity watched me. Not a passing glance, not idle regard, but the focused scrutiny of a man measuring something he meant to reshape. His eyes narrowed, his head tilted slightly. I felt it the kind of look a carpenter gave a warped board before deciding whether it could be straightened or should be thrown on the fire. I shifted under the weight of it. His dark eyes seemed to peer straight through me, measuring something I couldn't name.

"My King?" I asked when the gaze began to press on me too heavily.

"This conversation…" He mused "Has reminded me what a talent you have for finding ways to get into trouble when left idle." His lips quirked into a wry half-smile. "We must remedy that."

"My king—" I began, but he raised his hand to silence me.

"Your desire to track an assassin through my realm while barely able to stand upright only proves my point." Verity shook his head. "No, I believe we must find some tasks to keep your mind busy and your body out of trouble while you recover."

I felt my brows draw together in a frown. "That's hardly fair, my king. Trouble usually finds me, not the other way around." I shifted again against my pillows. "All I've ever wanted is a quiet life."

Verity's laugh was short and sharp. "And yet I too often find you at the center of some fire or other…No Fitz this won't do…won't do at all…we must find something to occupy that hunter's mind of yours. And keep your legs firmly under covers until they can hold your weight again."

A prickle of apprehension crept up my spine as I wondered what "tasks" Verity might have in mind. Nothing good came from kings assigning tasks, in my experience.

Verity threw back his head and laughed at my expression. "You needn't look so terrified. I'm not planning to send you on some impossible quest or make you attend formal dinners with foreign dignitaries."

I felt my cheeks warm. Even without the Skill-link between us, he read me too easily.

"I'm not terrified, my king" I replied, trying to maintain my dignity. "Merely... cautious about royal assignments. They tend to become complicated."

"That is fair." Verity conceded with a nod. "But I promise these will be tasks to heal, not harm." His expression grew serious again. "I intend to do my best to keep you out of harm's way from now on. Will you trust me in this, Fitz?"

I met his gaze directly. "I've always trusted you, my king. Even when I disagreed with you." I was beginning to feel rather like a coddled child, and my pride was rebelling.

"Good that's settled then." Verity rose. "If you require nothing else, I am going to retire for the night"

Verity refilled my cup with water from the pitcher and set both down on the bedside table within easy reach of me.

I wondered suddenly where Verity had been sleeping these past nights.

"You don't want your bed back?" I asked

His brow lifted, more amused than confused. "If I wanted it back, you'd be on a pallet in the hall by now." Verity smiled waving a dismissive hand "My chambers are yours as long as you need them. Truth is, I’ve hardly used them since I returned. "

"Where have you been sleeping?" The question left my mouth before I could consider how inappropriate it might be to inquire about the King's sleeping arrangements.

Verity's smile broadened to a grin at my naivety. "With my Queen, of course. In Kettricken's chambers." He nodded toward the connecting door on the far wall. "Two winters of solitude make a man appreciate warm company."

Heat crept up my neck. "Of course. I didn't think—"

"I don't see much point in maintaining two royal bedchambers anymore." Verity continued bluffly. "Though Kettricken insists court decorum should be maintained and I should retain the appearance of my own quarters."

He paused and considered me, an idea coming into his mind. "You're welcome to your old room, if you prefer. The one from when you were a boy?"

The thought of the cold, bleak room sent an involuntary shiver through me. Memories crowded in—the first time I'd killed for the crown, nights spent staring at the ceiling wondering if I'd be sent on another mission, the loneliness that had seeped into those stone walls.

Something in Verity's gaze eyes told me he understood more than I'd said. Though I don't think he'd ever been to my room in person, I suppose he'd seen it through my eyes when we were skill bonded.

"I never much liked that room" I muttered quietly. In truth I'd often longed to return to the stables. The only part I'd really liked about the space had been the secret entrance to Chade's study.

"This chamber has better protections and a nicer view, a thicker door, warded walls" he observed casually. "And the servants will not question orders to deliver extra food, medicine or clothing here"

I gave a nod, thankful to him. His chambers felt cosy and safe, like a fortress within a fortress. It was warmer than mine had ever been. Less drafty. I slept better here. The fear that skulked in corners didn’t slink quite so close. I didn't really know how to explain that to him, and I certainly had no right to squat here.

"That's settled, then," Verity said simply. " And at least I can keep a close eye on you in here" He said with a wink. He reached over and ruffled my hair like I was still a boy of twelve.

"Rest well, Fitz. We'll talk more tomorrow." His hand lingered briefly on my head. "I'm glad you're here..."

I nodded, feeling suddenly shy by his uncomplicated and unguarded affection for me. Very few humans had shown me that. Care usually came as part of an exchange, with conditions and duties, a plan, or a task or a favour they wanted me to enact for them. Verity smiled, slightly sadly, seeming to understand. He gave my shoulder one last squeeze before turning toward the door.

"Goodnight, my king," I managed as he reached the threshold.

"Goodnight, Fitz" he replied, then added softly "Sleep well."

After he closed the door, I laid back against the pillows. The headache had was almost gone, and exhaustion tugged at my limbs. I despaired at my stamina. Would it ever return?

I reached out through my Wit-sense for Nighteyes, expecting to find him hunting in the nearby woods.

What I found startled me. My wolf-brother's presence glowed warm and content—not outside at all, but in the adjoining chambers. With Verity. I blinked in confusion, sensing something else strange in the connection—a bubble of innocent joy and curiosity mingled with Nighteyes' steady presence.

Little one plays with paws and tail, came Nighteyes' amused reply.

I pushed myself up against my pillows, extending my Wit-sense further. Through Nighteyes' eyes, I glimpsed a scene I could scarcely believe: the wolf lay stretched out on a thick rug, his tail wagging gently as a small, dark-haired child—barely old enough to crawl—reached for him with chubby hands.

Prince Dutiful. Verity and Kettricken's son.

The child gurgled with delight as Nighteyes carefully nudged him with his nose. Nearby, Kettricken knelt on the floor also her face suffused with a mother's pride and joy. She watched the pair with adoring eyes, occasionally glancing toward the doorway where Verity now stood, similarly transfixed by the scene.

Pack-cub smells of you. Nighteyes informed me. Of your blood. But also of the alphas. The cub is strong. He will hunt well someday. I am glad the alpha spoke to you of your recklessness. I hope you will listen His mental voice was tinged with satisfaction.

I scowled at the ceiling. Not you too. I've had quite enough lectures for one evening.

Someone must look after you when you won't look after yourself, my wolf replied, unrepentant. The alpha speaks sense.

I decided to ignore that.

You've certainly made yourself comfortable in the royal household. I sent back, teasingly.

Through our bond, I felt Nighteyes' contentment as small hands patted at his fur. The pack is good. The cub is strong.

And here I thought you were my wolf, I replied, trying to sound teasing but feeling a strange pang of something like jealousy. It unsettled me how quickly Nighteyes had bonded with Verity's family, widening what had always been our exclusive connection.

I am your wolf, Nighteyes responded with mild exasperation. But they are pack. Our pack. You know this.

I did know it. I loved them. Kettricken, Verity, Chade and even felt a strange connection to the small prince I'd barely glimpsed. Yet something in me still bristled at how easily Nighteyes had settled into their family circle.

The alpha understands me, Nighteyes continued, surprising me. Not like you do. Not words. But...

I felt him struggling to explain.

Feelings. Ideas like morning mist. He knows when I am hungry or alert to danger.

I sat up straighter in bed. Verity can understand you?

Some. Not all. He hears me like distant wolf-song. Because of your connection, I think. The magic that binds you to him. I think he understands most clearly when we are all close together.

The Skill. It made a strange sort of sense. My bond with Verity through the Skill had somehow created a faint bridge between my wolf-brother and my king. Much like it had in the mountains with the Fool.

I will show you, Nighteyes decided, abruptly ending our mental conversation.

Through our bond, I felt him nose Dutiful carefully away and rise, stretching his great form before padding across the chamber toward Verity. The king looked down, eyebrows raised slightly at the wolf's direct approach. Nighteyes lifted a paw and placed it respectfully against Verity's leg.

Use your clever hands to open the door please high one, Nighteyes projected, his thoughts clear to me but surely nonsensical to Verity. I could sense the effort Nighteyes put into them, like a shout across a wide canyon. My human needs watching, and if you could spare a ginger cake I would be grateful.

I felt embarrassment flood through me. Nighteyes! He cannot understand you like that!

Watch, my wolf replied smugly.

Verity's expression shifted, his eyes going distant for a moment as if listening to something far away. He glanced toward the adjoining door that led to my chamber, then nodded as though coming to a decision. Without a word, he crossed to the door and opened it.

"You wish to check on him?" Verity murmured to the wolf.

Nighteyes wagged his tail once in confirmation.

Verity's gaze drifted to a small tray on a side table where two ginger cakes lay. His brow furrowed momentarily before he reached for one offering it to Nighteyes, who accepted it with gentle teeth.

"Keep watch over my nephew" Verity instructed the wolf, his voice low. "He needs rest, not schemes."

Nighteyes swallowed the treat, licked his chops, and trotted through the open doorway, radiating satisfaction as he approached my bed.

You see? he projected, looking far too pleased with himself. Not words. But enough.

I stared at my wolf in disbelief as he settled beside me on my bed, crumbs of ginger cake still clinging to his whiskers.

"Did you just manipulate the King of the Six Duchies into giving you a treat?" I whispered.

Nighteyes laid his muzzle on his paws, eyes glinting with mischief in the dim light. I asked politely. And he understood what mattered.

You're becoming quite the Farseer family pet, I jested running my fingers through his fur and trying to mask my complicated feelings. I still wasn't sure how I felt about sharing him, even with the other humans I loved. Though I suppose in the end it was not really up to me who shared Nighteyes affections, that could only be decided by the wolf himself.

Nighteyes sent me the mental equivalent of a snort. I am no pet. I am pack. There is a difference. You should know this by now, brother.

He lay his head down and nuzzled into me. His breathing evened out, a comforting sound that ferried me further towards sleep. Just as I felt myself beginning to doze he sent another thought:

But perhaps you do not know the difference between pet and pack…and that has always been the problem…

The words reverberated off the walls of my mind and trapped themselves there. I lay in bed considering them long after Nighteyes entered a deep slumber.

They held more truth than I was comfortable with.

Perhaps was I who was the true Farseer pet….I had always been kept by them…fed and watered…but when Shrewd was alive I'd never been afforded the full status of family…of pack….not exactly.

Yet I was here again, trying to wedge myself back into the same position of serving the Farseers. Even as Verity tried vehemently to dissuade me. I finally dozed off trying to untangle the mess of loyalty, duty and my own desire for belonging in my mind.

Chapter Text

I woke to the sound of shutters being thrown open.

"Good. You're finally awake." Kettricken's voice declared cheerily. "I've brought breakfast." She swept about the room opening shutters with one hand, sunlight spilling in her wake. On her other hand, she carried a silver platter, which she set down on Verity's small two-person dining table. Beside me, Nighteyes stirred, his nose twitching at the scent of something tasty."The fresh morning air will help clear your head." she announced "It's been too stuffy in here. Not good for healing."

"I um…Thank you…" I squinted against the brightness, feeling groggy and at odds with the bouncy energy that Kettricken had brought into the chamber. "I mean…Good morning my queen…" I said trying to adjust.

"Kettricken." she corrected, handing me a cup of something. "Drink this first. All of it." It was another pungent herbal brew. More mountain medicine. It smelled terrible, but Kettricken's manner was quite insistent, and I'd the feeling I wouldn't win a debate about it. So I held my nose and swallowed it down.

"How do you feel today FitzChivalry?"

"Better" I replied. This seemed to please her immensely.

"Good! Then it's time you got moving."

"What?"

She pulled back my blankets without ceremony. "It's not healthy to lie about for so long. In the mountains, we know that movement is essential to healing." She explained punctuating each word with a wag of her finger, like she was giving a lecture to a small child.

She took my arms and started pulling me out of bed.

"My lady!—" I felt momentarily scandalised at her seeing me in my nightshirt and under breeches and reddened. But Kettricken seemed completely unphased. I supposed she'd see far more of me before. But still those were different times, not Buckeep Castle.

"Come and stand by the window so you can breath the fresh air whilst we exercise" She commanded, business-like and oblivious to my awkwardness.

"What…exactly are we doing?" I asked thoroughly bemused. As I moved slowly to join her.

"In the mountains, we do daily exercise from childhood. They a strengthen the body and move the healing energies" she demonstrated a series of slow, deliberate movements—arms stretching skyward, then bending at the waist, twisting and extending in a ritualized pattern.

She bade me copy her and I reluctantly complied. Briefly wondering if this was what it would have been like to have had a bossy older sister?

I felt foolish at first, but found that after a while the exercises did help. My stiff muscles warmed and loosened as I followed her lead. Sweat beaded on my brow by the third repetition.

"We must get you well Fitz" Kettricken commented, as she frowned at me watching my form. "Again. Deeper this time."

I was beginning to pant. I hoped she didn't expect me to do a fifth round. Luckily the door opened as I completed the final movements. Verity entered, amusement clear in his eyes.

"I see you've finally subjected him to the mountain way" he observed.

Kettricken grinned and bobbed over to her husband, giving him a quick kiss on the lips in greeting. "It was time." Then she bounced over to table and pulled a chair out for me, indicating I sit. I hadn't seen this happy energy in her in a long time.

"She's been planning this for days" Verity told me, his voice warm with affection for his queen. "I convinced her to let you rest first, but she's been quite determined to heal you properly."

"The flatland ways are too soft." Kettricken declared. "Beds and potions aren't enough. The body must participate in its own healing." She told Verity then turned back to me "That was good today Fitz. But you will do better tomorrow"

Slightly worried, I glanced at Verity who only smirked at me.

"You should eat before it gets cold," Kettricken said, gesturing to the breakfast tray. "And put on a robe. You'll catch a chill standing about like that."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering if Kettricken had been spending time with Patience of late. "You mean with every window wide open my lady?" I glanced pointedly at the ones she'd thrown wide. "If you fear a draft, perhaps we should close them now?"

"Of course not Fitz." she replied, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Sick people need fresh air. Stale air harbors illness. I have already told you this."

Suppressing laughter Verity handed me a thick woolen robe trimmed with fur that had been draped over a nearby chair "This should fit well enough."

I supposed this morning had been one of his tasks to keep me busy…?

I slipped on the robe, and settled at the small table where Kettricken had placed the breakfast tray. Lifting the lid, I was stunned to find not just the simple porridge I'd expected, but an array of delicacies: honey-glazed pastries filled with dried fruits, thin pancakes layered with preserves, devilled eggs and slices of smoked fish arranged with care. Every item had been a favorite of mine years ago, but I'd not the status to have such food delivered to my room, occasionally I'd had them at feasts or when I'd shared a platter whilst reporting to Verity. There was also a small plate of raw meat for Nighteyes.

"How did you—?" I began.

"Verity has a good memory for details, also Chade says you often mention food when you made reports of missions, they compared notes" Kettricken answered throwing a smile to Verity. I was surprised and little touched that my old mentor had actually paid attention to my food preferences. I never thought he might deem the memory worthy.

Verity watched with satisfaction as I selected a pastry and devoured it.

"I thought these might tempt your appetite better than broth and porridge. It's good to see your appetite returning" Verity grinned, settling into the chair opposite me.

“If you cannot come to my hall and feast FitzChivalry, then the feasts shall come to you." Verity declared, then added more quietly "You may be a ghost to the rest of this court, but you’re no ghost to me. You should consider yourself an honoured guest while you're at Buckeep. You are guest to the King, and you'll be given the best of everything whilst you’re under my roof. Food, treatment, new clothes whatever you require.”

I paused mid chew. The thought of being treated like royalty —even privately— made me deeply uncomfortable. I'd spent most of my life in shadows, trained to remain unseen. Even during my brief time as a recognized member of the court, I'd never truly belonged in that world.

Nighteyes nudged my leg beneath the table. Pack takes care of pack, he observed. Why fight against it?

"I'm not accustomed to being fussed over" I mumbled nibbling at a pastry, unsure how to respond. "It makes me uneasy."

Verity laughed "Then clearly it's a skill we must help you practice nephew"

I plucked a piece of crust from the pastry in my fingers and chewed, whilst pondered that. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Kettricken approach Nighteyes with something in her hands. A leather collar, finely crafted and embossed with mountain patterns, glinting with small silver studs.

To my astonishment, Nighteyes sat perfectly still, allowing her to slip it around his neck without protest. My wolf, who had always bristled at any suggestion of being treated like a domesticated pet, seemed entirely at ease with this arrangement.

Practical, Nighteyes informed me. She explained. Better this than locked away.

Kettricken adjusted the collar, making sure the silver emblem displayed prominently at his throat. "It bears my standard," she explained, noticing my perplexed expression. "This will keep Nighteyes safe as he moves about the castle."

"And people won't question a wolf roaming freely?"

"I've told everyone that my father has sent him as a gift from the mountains. Not a wolf. But a rare guard breed specially trained by the Chyurdian peoples" She scratched behind his ears. "King Eyod's legendary hunting wolfenhounds are much admired, though few have seen them. The story raises fewer questions than the truth."

I ate my breakfast ravenously, and when I had finished the last morsel from my plate, Verity suddenly stood and clapped his hands together.

"Right! Let's be off," he announced with unexpected vigor.

I stared at him, bewildered. "Off where?"

In response, Verity picked up a cloth-bound bundle that had been resting against the wall, tucking it under his arm with purpose.

"Come along now." He strode toward the door, then paused to look back at me expectantly.

I hesitated. The prospect of leaving the safety of these chambers made my skin prickle with anxiety. Nighteyes sensed my unease and pressed against my leg.

I'll guard your back.

With reluctance, I followed Verity to the door, throwing a questioning glance at Kettricken, who merely smiled enigmatically.

Outside in the corridor, I was both relieved and worried to find no guards posted. The hallway stretched empty in both directions—unusual for the royal wing of Buckkeep Castle.

"Where are your guards?" I whispered, uncomfortable with the exposure.

"This entire floor is family quarters now" Verity explained, his voice low but unconcerned. "Guards are stationed at the foot of each stairwell, but I don't want anyone eavesdropping right outside my door. Some conversations aren't meant for court gossip. I'm sure you'll appreciate that…."

He led me down the corridor, past several closed doors, before stopping at a section of wall that appeared unremarkable. Verity prodded it a few times then pressed twice in the same spot and a narrow doorway slid open, revealing a dimly lit passage beyond.

"This way" he said, ducking into the opening. "Mind your head."

The passage was narrow, requiring us to walk single file, with Nighteyes padding silently behind me. The air grew warmer and damper as we descended, and I caught the faint scent of minerals and heated stone.

"Where are we going?" I asked again.

"Buckeep's steam baths," Verity replied over his shoulder. "Nothing heals the body faster than a proper steam. And you, FitzChivalry, are in desperate need of both healing and a thorough scrubbing."

I agree Nighteyes sent You smell like carrion

The passage twisted downward, the air growing increasingly humid with each step, until it ended abruptly, opening into a vast chamber of pale stone. Steam curled upward from a pool set into the floor, rising to gather against a vaulted ceiling where intricate mosaic patterns glimmered in the diffused light. The familiar mineral scent of Buckkeep's hot springs filled my nostrils—a peculiar mixture of sulfur, salt, and something ancient.

"The royal baths" Verity announced with satisfaction, setting his bundle down on a curved stone bench.

I stepped cautiously onto the warm stone floor. "I've never been in this section before."

"Few have. It's reserved for the royal family." Verity gestured to a large pool, where steam rose in lazy spirals from water clear enough to see the mosaic dragons swimming along its bottom.

Nighteyes sniffed suspiciously at the nearest pool, then backed away with a sneeze. Too hot and smells strange.

"The outer doors are locked, no one will bother you whilst you bathe" Verity continued, unwrapping the bundle to reveal clean clothes, towels, and various vials of oils.

I ran my hand through the warm, mineral-rich water.

"Kettricken put some mountain herbs in the bundle they will help draw out any remaining poison, but they work better on clean skin." Verity pointed to the vials. "The green one is for wounds. The amber one for after."

I nodded, already feeling the tension in my muscles responding to the humid warmth of the chamber.

"Chade will collect you in about an hour" Verity said, moving toward the hidden door we'd entered through. "He'll explain your next task."

"What next task?" I called after him, but Verity was already slipping through the doorway.

"Best get clean, Fitz. You smell like something your wolf dragged home." His voice echoed back through the closing passage. "And don't forget to wash your hair!"

The door slid shut with a soft thud, leaving me alone with Nighteyes and the rising steam.

He is pleased with himself.. Nighteyes toungue lolled out at me, as he settled onto a dry portion of the floor. Like a fox who's laid a clever trap.

I sighed, placing my borrowed robe on the bench. "Yes, he is." I agreed.

I put worries about Verity's next 'task' out of my mind and focused on the current one. He had been true to his word and none had been unpleasant as of yet. The water embraced me as I entered, melting away the remaining stiffness in my muscles. I sank deeper, letting my head rest against the smooth stone edge of the pool. Nighteyes watched from a comfortable distance, not sharing my enthusiasm for voluntary immersion.

You smell better already, he observed, nose wrinkling. Less sickly.

"I feel better" I admitted, allowing the mineral-rich water to work its mysterious healing. The pain of my wound faded, and my head felt clearer than it had in days.

After thoroughly scrubbing every inch of skin, I applied Kettricken's green herbal concoction to my healing wound. It stung fiercely at first, then cooled to a pleasant numbness that spread outward from the injury. Then I rebandaged it, surprised againhow well it was healing. The amber oil, fragrant with cedar and something unfamiliar but pleasant, went onto my skin afterward, making it gleam in the misty light.

Once dried, I examined the clothes Verity had left. They were finely made but understated—a deep forest green tunic with a hood, two linen shirts (one white, one cream), supple leather trousers, and boots of soft-tanned hide. I immediately liked them better than anything I'd ever owned, they were completely suited to my tastes—comfortable and durable. There was nothing ostentatious or impractical about them, the sort of clothing a royal huntsman might wear. I ran my fingers over the stitching of the tunic. Someone had taken great care with these garments.

As I dressed, I discovered three belt buckles nestled in a small pouch. One bore Verity's royal standard, unmistakable to anyone at court. The other, to my surprise, displayed my own forgotten crest— the Farseer buck with his head lowered to charge. The third was a wolf, finely cast, not some brooding forest monster, but an intelligent animal lean and alert, midstride.. I held them in my palms, weighing and their significance.

With a sigh, I slipped the royal standard onto the belt. Telling myself it made more sense for my current situation. The other two buckles I tucked into my pocket.

You think too much about metal trinkets, like a magpie deciding which pebble to pickup Nighteyes watched me with his head tilted. You stare at them like they might bite.

I shook my head, refusing to acknowledge the truth in his observation. "It's practical, that's all. If someone sees me, better they think I'm Verity's man than..." I let the thought trail away.

Than what you are? Nighteyes rose and stretched, padding over to nudge my hand with his nose.

"They're just belt buckles" I said firmly. "Nothing more."

But even as I said it, I felt the weight of the other buckles in my pocket. Different parts of my life colliding again.

Nighteyes ears suddenly swivelled toward the hidden door.

Someone comes…

I straightened, instinctively checking for weapons I wasn't carrying. Dismayed to realise I had nothing.

It's the old one

I breathed a sigh of relief. But made a mental note that the weapon situation needed to be remedied. Verity's old sword had been left back at my cabin with the rest of my possessions, perhaps I could borrow another from him whilst I was here….I was wondering if I should offer Verity his old blade back — it was a fine one, and when he'd given it to me, he'd never expected to need it again— when Chade stepped into the bath chamber.

"Good day my boy. I see you've found the royal treatment agreeable." he greeted with an easy charm. "And the clothing fits. If a little loosely. Excellent."

Chade wore a new outfit today, a fitted tunic of deep burgundy over charcoal trousers—a far cry from the grey robe I constantly saw him in during my childhood. Gold thread subtly embroidered the edges of his sleeves, and a small broach bearing the royal seal fastened his collar. For a man who had spent most of his life in shadows, he wore his new position with surprising ease.

"You look better. The mountain herbs in your bath will have helped with that" Chade sounded pleased. "But don't ignore the urge to rest when you start feeling sleepy. The healing isn't complete yet."

He turned toward the hidden passage. "Come along now."

I fell into step behind him, Nighteyes padding silently at my heels.

"Where are we going?" I asked as Chade led us through a series of twists and turns I didn't recognize from our earlier journey.

Like Verity, Chade ignored my question, glancing back over his shoulder instead. "I approve of your choice of buckle" he observed with a smile.

I frowned at his evasion but said nothing more as we continued our winding path upward through Buckkeep's hidden veins.

Eventually, Chade stopped before a seemingly solid wall. He ran his hand along the stones and a section swung inward on silent hinges. He ushered me through into Verity's study.

Verity was absent, but the room felt lived-in and warm. A cheerful fire crackled in the hearth, where a copper kettle steamed gently. The scent of woodsmoke mingled with ink, parchment, and the spiced aroma of whatever food waited on a covered tray atop a small table.

Stacks of documents covered Verity's massive oak desk, arranged in piles that suggested organized chaos rather than disorder. Half-finished maps were spread across a side table, the ink still fresh on some of the coastlines.

Chade gestured toward the side table, where the series of beautifully drawn but colourless maps were laid out. Beside them sat an array of colored inks, paints, fine brushes, and pens.

"Verity remembered your talent for neat penmanship and scrollwork," Chade explained, ricking up one map. "And, of course, your skill with paints. He wants you to add color to these…" Chade continued. "The blue inkpot is for waterways, green for forests, brown for mountains. The instructions are noted in the margins."

I picked up one of the brushes, testing its fine point between my fingers.

"And when you've finished with the coloring, Verity needs some of his notes copied in a more... legible hand." He tapped a stack of parchment covered in Verity's distinctive scrawl. "The king has many talents, but neat handwriting has never been among them…."

Chade moved to the small table and lifted the cover from a platter, revealing several meat pies, danishes, fresh fruits, thinly sliced cold meats, wedges of cheese, loaf of spiced bread and a small pot of jam. "In case you become hungry while working. Verity wishes you to be as comfortable as possible."

I stared at the bounty, I was still full from breakfast. "That's three meals worth of food at least…. I'll be as round as a ball before I leave Buckeep…"

"You could do with putting on some weight" Chade observed critically. "You're all bones and angles."

I thought this rich coming from Chade, but I didn't argue. Truth be told, I hadn't been eating properly for months. The effort of hunting, preparing, and cooking meals had often seemed insurmountable, especially on days when merely rising from bed had been a victory. Many nights, I'd subsisted on hard oat biscuits and whatever dried meat remained from previous hunts, too exhausted to prepare proper meals.

He's right, Nighteyes contributed, eyeing the platter. You've been too thin. Not nearly enough fat for winter.

"Eat. Work. Rest when you need to." Chade instructed, as he gathered several pieces of paperwork on town planning from Verity's desk to take with him "I shall see you later"

Nighteyes also rose and stretched, his claws clicking against the stone floor as he padded toward the door. Chade watched him a little surprised.

Where are you going? I asked my wolf.

Anywhere I please, he replied with wolfish smugness. That's what this means. He tossed his head, making the silver-studded collar catch the firelight. The humans see it and know I belong. They step aside rather than scream or throw things.

Nighteyes— I began, a note of warning in my voice.

Probably to the great hall, he continued, ignoring my protest. Many humans eating there now. Delicious things fall from their plates. The kitchen boy gives me bones with marrow still inside, he added, tail swishing slightly. And the small prince drops food constantly.

I stared at him, momentarily speechless. In mere days, my wolf had adapted to court life better than I had in years of living at Buckeep.

Be careful I cautioned. Not everyone will welcome a wolf, collar or no.

I am always careful. Unlike you. His amber eyes gleamed with wolf humor.

I watched him trot confidently into the passageway, his gray form soon disappearing around a corner. The sight of him moving so freely through Buckeep's corridors stirred a peculiar mixture of pride and envy.

I smiled faintly as I watched him go. At least one of us was finding his place here.

Chade had watched the exchange with a polite fascination, the kind he had always had about my wit, but he was always courteous enough not to probe directly. "Well Fitz ,I shall be off, Verity or Kettricken will be along later to check on your progress"

"Chade, wait."

He paused at the secret doorway, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

"The assassin," I said quietly. "Have you discovered anything more about who sent him?"

Chade's face settled into familiar lines of calculation. "Would Verity want you asking about that subject?"

I shrugged, attempting nonchalance and failing. My shoulders rose too high, my expression too eager.

"Alas I think not." Chade said dryly. "He's been quite clear about your role here—rest, recover…..colouring in maps…." He muttered. The inflection he put on colouring in plainly showed he'd rather have me spend my time elsewhere…

"Chade I want to help—"

"—However" Chade smiled, it hadn't taken much to sway him "I suppose it can do us no harm to discuss your opinion on August." He gracefully flopped into one of the two armchairs in front of the hearth and gestured for me to join him in the other. He'd obviously been eagerly waiting for me to broach this subject.

"August?" I asked surprised. "What does he have to do with this?" I hadn't thought of August in years. The memory of the boy who had once been Galen's prize pupil had faded to a distant ghost. Last I heard, he was banished to some remote holding after Verity burned out his Skill.

"I thought he hadn't been to court in years?"

"Indeed. He was first sent to Withywoods, then banished to a small keep near the northern coast of Buck. Rather isolated. Cold. Surrounded by little but sheep farmers and fishermen. Dismissed by Shrewd as a terrible waste of potential but no longer a threat"

I hadn't particularly liked August, but King Shrewd's words still struck me as icy. That's probably the sort of thing my grandfather would have said about me if I'd perished on one of his missions….I imagined the old King's detached voice as the news of my death was brought to him: Oh is Chivalry's Bastard's dead is he? What a waste of a potential assassin, still, at least that's the confusion around the succession sorted once and for all….

"However maybe that dismissal was premature." Chade was still talking. I refocused my mind on the present trying to catch up on what I'd missed.

"Premature?"

"Yes. I'm sure you appreciate why."

"I do?" I asked confused

Chade fixed me a sharp rebuking look, and felt like I had disappointed my mentor "Can you think of no one else who thought their skill burned out and who seems to be recovering it?" He queried.

I suddenly felt stupid. I course I could. Me….and I'd had less time to heal than August….August could have been recovering his skill for years…in secret….he might even be at full strength again.

"Perhaps it's time someone paid him a visit. Or that he was summoned court."

"Precisely what I said to Verity"

"And what did he say?" I asked.

Chade scowled. "Verity refuses to consider August as a suspect. He dismissed the idea outright when I suggested it."

"Why?" I asked, confused. "August tried to kill him once before."

"Verity sees things differently. He insists that August was merely Galen's pawn back then, not acting of his own volition and that he didn't really know what Galen had planned. He believes August has suffered enough."

Chade rose and he stalked to the window agitated. He looked out on the sea.

"Verity is a good king. The people love him—the hero who woke the Elderlings summoned dragons to save us all…..But he has his blind spots. Family is chief among them. August is one of the few remaining Farseers by blood…one of his few last Farseer relatives…and Verity remains far too sentimental about family for his own good."

I frowned. Verity liked to see the best in people, but he wasn't stupid. "Has there been any evidence pointing to August?"

"The assassin's bow had Buck craftsmanship. The poison was northern coastal nightshade, which grows near August's holding." Chade gave a short frustrated shake of his head. "But Verity calls that circumstantial. Claims anyone could acquire such things."

"And what does Kettricken think?"

Chade made a dismissive gesture. "She's little help in this matter. The Queen is remarkable in many ways, but she shares Verity's tendency to see the best in people rather than the worst. It's admirable, but dangerous."

He turned back to me "This is why a monarch like Verity needs people like us, Fitz. People willing to be skeptical. People who see shadows where others see only light." His voice lowered. "People who are not beneath doing what must be done to protect the crown, even when the crown resists that protection."

I gave slow nod. I didn't disagree "You want me to investigate August…don't you…?" I asked carefully. I was still wary about getting dragged back into intrigue, but I couldn't let Verity's and Kettricken's own good nature be the end of them either.

"No…." He corrected, returning from the window and taking up his place opposite me in the armchair again "I…. want you to consider the possibility that Verity might be wrong about his younger cousin.." Chade rephrased, I suspected he disliked the directness of my statement. His rephrased one was ambiguous enough that it could be interpreted as not directly contravening Verity's wishes. He dropped his voice low "Perhaps…. when you've recovered more strength…you might even try Skilling to August yourself? A light touch, just enough to sense his intentions."

My eyes opened wide in surprise "Chade…I don't even know if I'll be able to skill to anyone ever again. And even if I could, my Skill was never subtle." I rubbed my head in frustration "Even before it was damaged…. It would be like trying to pick a lock with a battering ram."

"Verity managed such delicate work during the Red Ship Wars…" Chade stated confused. "He could touch minds without being detected?"

"Verity's control is worlds beyond mine." I pointed out. "He was always more skilled, and now?" I shook my head. "After his experiences in the Elderling city, joining with the Skill dragon, immersing himself in ancient magic and the skill river? In some ways he's probably at the level of a Skillmaster…. Perhaps beyond…"

I didn't share my deeper concerns—the splitting headaches that still plagued me, the fear of another fit overwhelming me if I reached too deeply into the Skill magic. It was one thing to risk my life for Verity; it was something else entirely to risk my sanity.

"Why not simply ask Verity to spy on August himself?" I suggested. "He has the ability and subtlety for it."

Chade's mouth tightened. "I have. And he has done so."

"Then why-"

"-Verity has a tremendous distaste for using the Skill to spy on people." Chade snapped suddenly irritated again "I believe his experiences during the war—when he spent countless hours diving into Red Ship Raiders' minds—left him with a strong aversion to such tactics….And now he is king….well…I cannot simply order him to do it, or ask his father to. I had to cajole and beg and reason. It took an age to convince him, but finally I persuaded him to try.

For one afternoon, Verity reached out to August's mind." Chade scolwed. "And after just a few hours, Verity declared himself satisfied that August harbors no ill will toward himself or the crown. Can you imagine? A single afternoon of observation, and he considers the matter settled!"

"That's hardly enough time to—"

"Exactly!" Chade slapped his palm on the armrest, got up and started pacing "No competent investigator would declare a suspect innocent after following them for just a few hours. What if August simply had innocent thoughts that day? What if he's learned to shield himself? What if—"

"-What if Verity is right?" I interrupted quietly.

Chade stopped his pacing to fix me with a sharp look. "When did you become so trusting, Fitz? The world hasn't grown kinder in your absence."

"I'm not being trusting. I'm being practical," I replied. "If Verity investigated and found nothing, perhaps we should consider other suspects."

Chade lifted one eyebrow curiously "You have someone in mind? "

I searched my memories, sorting through faces and names from the past. The Red Ship Wars had claimed so many lives. Most of the players from those dangerous days were long dead. I struggled to think of anyone both powerful enough and sufficiently motivated to attempt regicide.

"I can't think of anyone specific…" I admitted finally. "Most of Galen's students are dead or powerless now. The most dangerous Serene, Justin, Will and the others are all dead too."

"Precisely." Chade said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "August is the only left of Galen's couterie."

I stared into the fire, letting my thoughts drift back to those dark days before Verity completed his dragon. A memory stirred, something I hadn't considered in years.

"What about the other coteries?" I asked slowly. "Will trained at least two more after Galen's original group. He sent them to find Verity. I know a number had been consumed by the dragons but I'd never actually checked what happened to the rest. They'd have been Skill-trained, and if any survived... "

Chade's eyes sharpened. "Go on."

"They would have been loyal to Will, not Verity. And they would have had time to nurse any grievances. Did any of them return after everything ended?"

Chade frowned thoughtfully. "As far as I know, those later coteries either perished in the Mountains or went mad from Skill exposure. Will pushed them too hard, too fast in his desperation to find Verity. The few who straggled back home were broken in mind and spirit…Vacant shells of themselves unable to communicate with anyone… "

"Could one have recovered? Like Verity thinks I will? Like August might have?"

"It's possible," Chade conceded. "I focused my investigations on more... immediate threats. Perhaps that was shortsighted." He nodded decisively. "I'll pick up those old threads again, see if I've missed anything. There were seven members each in those later coteries. I should double check what became of each."

Chade made for the door again, scribing something quick onto a wax tablet that disappeared into his sleeve before his fingers even left the stylus.

I leaned back in the chair, turning the conversation over in my head. Then I frowned. “Chade, one last thing...”

Chapter Text

“Who picked my clothes?” I asked.

“Well let's see…Kettricken chose the shirts…” Chade answered.

I glanced down at the garment mountain-style needlework in green and grey, decorated the collar and cuffs. I smiled I should have guessed. I knew the mountain folk preferred brighter colours, but Kettricken must have chosen more muted tones for her embellishments of my clothes as she knew I did not relish standing out “And the rest?”

“Everything else was Verity’s doing." Chade gestured vaguely at my waist "Save one of the belt buckles. He chose your crest. And the wolf. He had them made for you, a long time ago, before he left to seek the elderlings” Chade added. “Gifts he never got the chance to present.”

I pondered that. Particularly the wolf buckle. If Verity had had the buckles made so long ago….had he chosen the wolf because he knew I was witted even before everyone else accused me…? If so, how long had he known? And why did he never tell me? I filed the thought away for later and refocused on Chade.

“And the last one?” I asked. Thinking of the buckle I now wore, the one with Verity's royal standard.

“That one I chose” Chade said airily. “Verity's kingsmen wear them…he wanted something different from Shrewd's pins I suppose."

“And I suppose you expect me to wear it from now on…” I muttered, somewhat surly. It wasn't so much that I opposed being linked to Verity…. It was more that the buckle suddenly felt like collar, so easily slipped back on a dog…

“I expect nothing. But I remind you of what you are.” Chade replied evenly.

"Would that I needed a reminder…" I muttered back. I was hardly likely to forget my connection or endless duty to the Farseers …

"You have always needed reminders, Fitz. You forget who you are when left alone too long. You've always done better with a master than when left to decided things on your own. When given complete freedom, you invariably choose poorly. You drift. Squander your considerable talents. Or worse— "

 "That's not true!" I snapped my temper flaring at this words

"Isn't it?" Chade raised an eyebrow. "Consider the last time Burrich left you to your own devices at that cabin. After your injuries in Regal's dungeons... you reverted to a wild, ragged man who spent his days hunting with his wolf, barely remembering to bathe or change his clothes, hardly human anymore. You were halfway to becoming a wild beast."

Heat rose to my face. I opened my mouth to object, but Chade continued relentlessly.

"Or perhaps you'd prefer I mention your brilliant decision to hunt down Regal on your own? A plan that would have ended with your corpse on Tradeford's floor if Verity hadn't intervened through the Skill."

"That's different. I—"

"Different how? You went without orders, without support, driven by nothing but your own desires for vengeance. And nearly died for it." Chade's green eyes were flint-hard. "Your judgment improves remarkably when you have someone steering you toward a purpose greater than your immediate impulses."

I glared at him, hating that I couldn't find adequate words to fully refute his own.

"As I said…Left to yourself, you at best drift aimlessly, wasting your life….at worst your court death at every opportunity."

I shut my eyes tight trying to control my temper. I felt the roaring of my hot blood coursing in my ears. I reached for words that would silence him. "I'm not the crown's anymore." I said quietly through gritted teeth.

"No." he agreed. "You're no one’s. That’s exactly the danger."

He sounded like Shrewd.

I sat rigid, my arms crossed over my chest. My gaze fixed on the fireplace rather than meet Chade's eyes.

"Fitz…my boy…" Chade's voice changed to something more paternal, the edge withdrawing from his tone. "I speak so plainly because I care about you….not to hurt you. Left to yourself these past months you've done nothing but hide and pretend the world doesn't exist." He shook his head as if dismaying over a child, he moved closer cautiously and risked a hand on my shoulder "You are a person that needs purpose. Direction. Someone to answer to, even if just to defy them…"

I shrugged off his unwanted touch and turned away jaw tight with tension. I could feel his gaze on me, waiting for a response, but I offered none.

Chade sighed "Fitz… re-dedicating your life to the crown would truly be the best thing for you, as well as the king and the Kingdom."

Chade took sucked a breath in as though beginning a confession "I hope you know…you have always been more to me than just Shrewd's weapon…I may have trained you as an assassin, but I've loved you like—"

"Don't." I bit out, still refusing to look at him.

Chade was silent for a few moments then sighed, a weary sound that carried the weight of all his years. "Very well." He moved toward the door, his footsteps nearly silent on the stone floor. " I will bid you good day then."

"Chade," I called out before he could close the door. "Just so we're clear—I'm not staying at Buckeep."

He paused, his back still to me.

"I'll stay until we capture this assassin, and that's it. Then I'm leaving again."

Chade turned slowly, he gave me a hard look but said nothing.

"I'm done with being anyone's tool. I left that life behind me, and I intend to keep it that way. I'll help because it's Verity, because I owe him that much. But after? I'll be my own master." I continued, my voice gaining strength.

The air between us felt thick enough to cut. Chade's eyes searched my face, and I forced myself to meet his gaze squarely. Behind his controlled expression, I could see the cogs of his mind whirring.

"I mean it, Chade. I've earned my freedom. I paid for it with my blood and nearly my life. I won't go back to being the crown's assassin. Or anything else. Not or ever."

Chade's face tightened. A small frown creased his forehead, briefly disturbing his usual mask of inscrutability. For a moment, I thought he might argue, might try once more to persuade me with smooth, reasonable words that would somehow wrap around my will like fine chains.

Instead, he simply inclined his head slightly. Not agreement—merely acknowledgment. Without another word, he slipped through the doorway and was gone.

Chapter Text

After Chade left, I stayed in the armchair for a long while, glaring at the door and ruminating on his words.

Eventually I remembered the maps.

I wandered over to the pile, absently selecting a one. Studying it, I realised knew the area it charted, it was near my cabin. At some point Verity had started adding colour, but most of the map remained in black and white.

I pulled out the chair and sat down. I found myself almost unconsciously reaching for one of the brushes. Dipping it into the pot of blue ink,I began filling the coastlines. The blue flowed vibrantly, transforming Verity's precise lines into something alive. I added green to the forested regions, varying the shade to show where different types of trees dominated and added my forager knowledge to the parchment. I also found myself adding more small details Verity had missed—a hidden cove that Nighteyes and I had discovered on the beach, good spots for fishing and some notes about which places where good for hunting particular game. Time slipped away as I worked.

After some hours I remembered the platter of food and paused my work to reheat the berry and ginger tea I'd been left. While I waited for the tea to infuse I munched through the collection of small pastries, meat pies and sliced fruit left on the silver tray.

Hours passed like this, in peaceful concentration. Sipping tea, nibbling pastries and working quietly.

My mind calmed as I worked, finding a rhythm in the careful application of pigment, paint and ink. I had forgotten how satisfying such work could be, how the world narrowed to just the task before me. As a boy, I had loved the hours spent in the scribe's room, learning to form my letters and later, copying texts under the master's watchful eye.

I thought of Verity, as he had promised, this was a pleasant task. A peaceful one. No blood on my hands, no poison in my pockets. My king deserved this peace he'd fought so hard to win. He deserved his kingdom, his family, his life. I vowed again would not let some hidden enemy take that from him.

By late afternoon, my eyes grew heavy. I stretched, feeling an ache in my shoulders from hunching over the desk. Without much thought, I dragged a woollen blanket around me, and flopped own on the fur hide near the fireplace. I stoked the fire and stretched out, my muscles enjoying the heat. Just a brief rest, I told myself, as I shut my eyes.

When I opened my eyes again, Verity stood silently at his desk, holding one of my amended maps up to the light, his expression thoughtful.

I scrambled to my feet, a bit embarrassed at being caught sleeping sprawled across Verity's floor like some exhausted hound before the hearth.

"My king I—"

"Be at ease Fitz…" Verity said motioning absently for me to stay where I was, still examining the map in his hands. "If I begrudged you rest, I'd be a poor host indeed."

I smoothed my rumpled shirt and finger-combed my hair back into order.

"I hope I haven't ruined it." I shifted uneasily whilst Verity scrutinised my unfinished work. "I hoped to get more done but-"

"Ruined it? Fitz, these are exceptionally well done." Verity lifted another map, tilting it to catch the light.

I blinked, surprised by the praise. "Oh…Thankyou…Lady Patience was always very…enthusiastic about me practicing my painting skills and Fedwren taught me well with regards to mixing inks."

"He did indeed." Verity traced a finger along a coastline I'd painted. "But this is more than just technique. There's artistry here too. You've a talent for this."

"I wanted to be a scribe when I was younger." I admitted. "One that traveled. To different kingdoms, different shores."

Verity looked surprised. "A traveling chronicler?"

"Yes." I smiled, it felt strange to recall the long-forgotten dream. "I wanted to write about far away places. Travel and draw and paint the lands and people. Document their customs and foods and beliefs…I used to rifle through the books on distant lands in Chade's library after I'd done my chores for him…. Imagining what it would be like to visit those lands, and record it all myself. Fedwren thought I had a good hand. He offered to apprentice me..."

I remembered the old scribe's kind eyes. How pleased he'd been when I'd shown aptitude, how disappointed he'd been when I'd had to refuse the apprenticeship.

"What happened?"

My smile faded. "King Shrewd's plan for me happened…" I shrugged. "Chade said I would never be allowed such freedom-to wander the realm as a scribe. Not while the court needed a backup assassin. And not while I was still Chivalry's bastard and might someday be needed for... other purposes."

"Other purposes?" Verity's brow furrowed.

I shrugged "Political marriages. Bargaining chips. A reserve bloodline disease swept through the legitimate line I suppose" an old bitterness coloured my words. "The possibilities were numerous, according to Chade. But one thing was certain – I would never be permitted to simply wander off and document the world as I pleased. I suppose King Shrewd wanted me where he could see me…" Or control me I thought bitterly.

"I'm sorry." Verity said quietly.

"It was a childish dream anyway."

"No." Verity's voice was firm. "It wasn't. And there's something profoundly sad about you thinking it was." He shook his head. "So many choices taken from you before you were old enough to understand what was being lost."

I shrugged again. There was nothing to be done about the past. Verity let the matter drop. He stepped away from the desk and moved across the room to an oak cabinet.

"Come sit with me, and share some wine." he called over his shoulder as he rummaged through the cabinet. It contained an array of different bottles. He selected a large dusty purple one, and two goblets. He blew dust from the bottle before setting the goblets on a small table between the two comfortable armchairs by the fire. The cork made a satisfying pop as he worked it free.

"This is Tilth's best harvest from before the war" he informed me, filling the goblets with a rich ruby liquid, I smelt notes of blackberry and elderflower emanating from it.

"Sit, Fitz. Don't hover by the desk like you're waiting for orders." Verity told me whilst still pouring.

I obeyed, and settled into the chair opposite his.

Verity handed me a full goblet, then raised his own. "To new beginnings." he said.

"New beginnings" I lifted my glass and echoed his toast.

The wine tasted even better than it smelled – rich and flavourful without being overly sweet. We drank in companionable silence for a moment, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. I hadn't had wine in long time, and with the blood loss I'd suffered recently, it hit me more strongly than I'd expected. It's pleasant effects felt amplified. I felt my body relax and mind unwind.

I sighed with contentment. …but then like a shadow casting itself across that light came the reminder of why I was here in the first place. Of the conversation with Chade. And of Chade's request that I try to skill to August…Where to even begin? I wanted help my King keep his crown, and his life. But…Verity had also forbidden me to help in the assassination investigation….how then to approach this without slighting him?

"You're quiet, Fitz." Verity's voice broke into my thoughts. "Is your wound paining you?"

I shook my head. "No, it's fine...well I mean not fine, but it really hasn't been too bad today, the herbs and the bath helped I think…" I took another sip of wine, gathering my thoughts. It felt harder with the alcohol in my system. I did my best to raise whatever was I thought was left of my skill walls…Verity was reading me so easily since I'd come to Buckeep…too easily…and it left me feeling uncomfortably exposed… I rose my wit walls too, I wasn't sure Nighteyes would approve of my plan…and while I'd have to communicate with my wolf eventually, having him running through my mind right now would complicate things…

"Does something else trouble you then Fitz?" Verity asked.

"I…I was just thinking…" I decided on a half truth "Verity…Do you truly believe my Skill will recover completely?" I asked.

Verity took his time answering. "I'm not certain," he finally admitted. "The human mind can heal from remarkable injuries, but..." He trailed off, choosing his words carefully.

"But some wounds leave permanent scars." I finished for him.

Verity nodded slowly. "Yes. That said..I do believe your Skill is recovering. Everyday you've been here your Skill presence has felt less... fractured than before.. I believe the pathways are reforming, albeit slowly. " Verity leaned back in his armchair trying to find the right words. "It's like watching a broken bone knit itself back together. The healing is happening, but slowly... "

"Is there anything that might... accelerate the healing? Herbs or potions, perhaps?"

Verity's expression turned thoughtful. "The Skill scrolls do mention certain concoctions... But they come with consequences I would not wish upon you. Mind-altering effects, dependency, hallucinations. Some who used them in the past became lost in Skill-dreams, unable to distinguish reality from vision." He shook his head firmly. "The surest path to recovery is gentle, consistent practice. Light usage of your Skill, gradually increasing as you strengthen, a bit like moving blood to an injured limb."

My face must have fallen, for Verity leaned forward suddenly, studying me. "Fitz?"

I looked away from him, feeling cowardly. Even light practice seemed impossible for me. "Whenever I've tried skilling out…the headaches... they're unbearable. Every time I reach for the Skill, it feels like pushing through a wall of knives…And the fits that sometimes follow..." I unconsciously wrapped my arms around myself, remembering the helpless thrashing, the loss of dignity and control.

Verity gave a solemn nod of understanding. When my eyes flickered to him his own were full of something that felt too much like pity. I stared back at the fire. I hated how broken that look made me feel. I felt his eyes stay on me, but he said nothing for a long moment, then I heard him set his cup on the table decisively.

"I could help you, if you'd allow it." He offered.

I looked up and he met my questioning gaze.

"I could guide you through the Skill-currents, support your efforts while you practice. It would be like learning to swim with someone holding you afloat." Verity explained . "I would be there to take the strain when it becomes too much. Together we could do exercises to gradually expose you to more Skill contact without allowing it to overwhelm you."

"You could?" I asked, hope filling me "When might you be available? I know you must be busy with kingdom matters?"

Verity's eyebrows rose slightly, clearly taken aback by my readiness to begin. He chuckled.

"For you, I'll make myself available tomorrow." Verity replied, a warm smile replacing his surprise. He picked up his goblet again, staring into it, thinking. "The best time to learn is at dawn, when the mind is clear and the world is quiet. However…" he continued "you still need rest to heal properly...I don't want to rob you of sleep. Let's meet at noon instead, in my tower."

"I'll be there," I promised, grateful for the chance. Then, with a sudden pang of guilt, I realized I'd been so wrapped up in my own struggles, I hadn't asked Verity about his own life since our reunion. I knew precious little about his new existence as a father and husband in peacetime.

"Verity, I've been remiss." I admitted. "I haven't asked how you are—truly are—since your return. How has it been for you? And fatherhood... how do you find it?"

A transformation came over Verity's face. The weight of kingship seemed to lift momentarily, replaced by something I'd rarely seen—pure joy.

"It is... extraordinary," he said, his voice softening. "More challenging and more rewarding than I ever imagined. Some mornings Dutiful wakes at dawn, babbling and demanding attention, and though I'm exhausted, his smile makes everything worthwhile. The way he looks at the world, how everything is new to him. His laughter..."

I found myself smiling too, swept along by his enthusiasm.

"And Kettricken?" I asked.

"She's magnificent as a mother." Pride warmed his voice. "Strong yet gentle. I watch her with our son and think of how close we came to never having this life." He looked directly at me. "A life we owe to you, Fitz."

I shook my head, uncomfortable with his gratitude.

"As for how I am..." Verity continued "His expression sobered. "The kingdom needs rebuilding, relationships with the Outislands are delicate, and threats still lurk in shadows. But when I hold Dutiful, I remember why we fought so hard… and sacrificed so much….Kettricken says he has the Farseerer stubbornness." Verity chuckled. "Though I maintain he gets that from her. You should see him when he decides he's finished eating—no force in the Six Duchies can convince him to take another bite."

"Sounds like you both have your hands full." I remarked smiling.

"Indeed. But enough about my son—I'll talk about him all night if permitted. How have you spent your day? Beyond the maps, I mean."

"Healing. Resting. Discussing things with Chade." I cursed my clumsiness with the last point. Verity had been too free with wine. I set my goblet down. Deciding I should try to clear my head before I said anything else.

"Ah. And what sort of 'things' has my Lord Chancellor been discussing with you?" Verity's voice was light, but I caught an undertone of wariness.

"Just..." I hesitated "…catching me up on court matters. About people we used to know."

"Anyone in particular?" Verity asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Well…" I fumbled "…we discussed August briefly. I just was wondering what became of him after... everything."

I watched Verity's face carefully. His expression remained controlled, but I noticed his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around his goblet.

"Just wondering…?" Verity set his goblet down and leaned back in his chair, studying me. "Fitz, if Chade has put you up to something, you might as well speak plainly. Your attempts at subterfuge are as clumsy tonight, you must be out of practice."

Chapter Text

 "I specifically instructed Chade not to involve you in his investigations. I made it abundantly clear you were to rest and recover-"

"-It wasn't Chade," I interrupted, my loyalty to my old mentor flaring despite our frosty parting that morning. "I brought it up with him, not the other way around… I wanted to know what was being done about the assassination attempt. He is not to blame for my questions my king." That was true….mostly. I had been the first to raise the topic this morning, even if Chade had needed little persuasion to share information….or to attempt to recruit me…

Verity regarded me coolly for a moment. Then he huffed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "You and Chade…Your minds work very similarly to one another. That is not always a good thing…"

I frowned confused by this. Was it our tendency toward secrets? Our distrust of people in general? Or perhaps our shared willingness to venture into dangerous territory to protect those we served?

Before I could formulate a reply, Verity continued.

"Very well…Since it appears you are hellbent on picking at this like a damn crow, I will tell you what I told Chade with regards to August. But discussing this subject with you ill pleases me, and when this conversation finished, I do not wish it brought up by you again. Do I make myself plain FitzChivalry?"

"Yes, my King." I said obediently

"And I will have words with my Lord Chancellor about this later…" Verity muttered. He drained his goblet, got up and restlessly stoked the fire, his back to me. "No doubt Chade has told you he suspects August was behind the assassination attempt... And I suppose he also told you that I disagree with this assessment?"

"He did mention that you had a uh…difference…in opinion, yes." I admitted

Back still to me, Verity tossed another log onto the hearth. His eyes distant as if he peered into old memories. It was a time before he spoke again.

"Fitz….you may not agree with me on this either…but time has given me another perspective on August…truly he was…just another of Galen and Regal's victims…. A boy caught up in schemes far beyond his understanding…. I regret the state he ended up in…"

My eyebrows shot up. "A victim that nearly killed you" I spluttered.

"August was even younger than you, Fitz—a year and a half younger when Galen sunk his talons into him... Just a child, really." Verity's words were heavy with contrition. "The whole business was another tragic episode in a time filled with them…" He shook his head sadly. "So many young lives lost…."

"You…bear August no ill will then…?" I asked trying to keep the incredulity out of my voice "Even after what happened?"

Verity shook his head. "I cannot. Not knowing everything I know now about Galen's methods, about how he twisted minds to his purpose. About how deep the evil in Regal's soul ran…"

Verity slumped down heavily in the opposite armchair. Like the memories made him weary.

"I knew August when he was very young you know…." He said slowly, as if dusting off a forgotten book in a library "Well before the forgings and all the nasty business with Galen and Regal."

This surprised me. Though perhaps it shouldn't have. August was Shrewd's nephew after all. I simply had never thought about how much time other legitimate Farseers spent with each other - whether they visited each other, or had small family gatherings for birthdays or other celebrations. Certainly I had never been invited to visit any relatives. The royally hosted gatherings I'd attended at Buckkeep where festivals like Winterfest that were open to the nobles and peasants alike, and where my presence would not be remarked upon . When I had been summoned to dine privately with Shrewd it was only ever to discuss some grim business he wanted carry out.

I refocused on Verity, he was smiling faintly as one does when recalling a fond memory. He looked into the fire again. "We even played with him, Chiv and I, whilst visiting his mother's estate. August always wanted a game of wooden swords with us—Chiv let the boy win every match, of course…. August couldn't have been more than four then..."

Something unpleasant squirmed in me. Something that might have been jealousy.

I forced my voice to be light and casual. "You met with August's family often?"

Verity nodded with an air of nostalgia. "I did. August's mother, my Aunt Merry-Eda rest her-was my father's sister. She was good friends with my own mother. Chivalry and I spent a few summers at their estate as children, long before August was even born and aunt Merry was still alive." A sad smile ghosted his lips "I paid a visit to their household just a few months before Chivalry died. I think August was about ten or eleven."

I pictured myself at ten years old—struggling to carry buckets, learning to mix poisons with Chade, sweeping stables, and above all, desperately alone. No mother, no father, and certainly no leisurely games with other aristocrats. While I had craved any morsel of kindly of acknowledgment from my Farseer relatives, August had enjoyed Verity's undivided attention, surrounded by toys, doting parents, and servants attending his every need.

I took a deep breath, trying to push down the bitter feelings rising in me. I forced myself to focus. "So you knew August well, then?"

Verity nodded. "As well as one can know a child, I suppose. He was a bright boy, full of energy and curiosity. I remember thinking that he would make a fine addition to the court someday."

I wonder what Verity had thought of me at that age? Had he seen any potential at all in the scrawny, sullen boy who had dogged Burrich's heels?

I chastised myself yet again . It didn't matter what Verity had thought of me then. What mattered was what he thought of me now, and what role I could play in protecting him and the kingdom.

"Sometimes I think, that had circumstances been different, you and August might have been friends. " Verity mused "You're not so dissimilar in many ways—both of you clever, both with strong Farseer traits."

My jaw tensed and I was surprised by the sudden wave of dislike that washed through me at the comparison. Before this conversation, I'd hardly spared August a thought beyond his role in Galen's coterie. Now I found myself nurturing a renewed resentment of this second or third cousin I barely knew. It annoyed me no end to hear Verity talk about August with such affection….to hear him call the little traitor 'clever' even….

Well…I suspected August wasn't quite so clever now with half his mind burnt out(!) "What are his wits like now?" I asked, trying not let any malice enter my voice. Thankfully Verity seemed too lost in his own memories to pick up any undercurrents in my question.

He stared into his goblet, frowning. "August is…functional…. Manages basic conversation if you’re patient. Doesn’t soil himself or wander off cliffs. But when I stopped by his estate a few months ago?" His mouth twisted. "He mistook me for Regal at first. Screamed for guards until his steward calmed him."

My jaw tightened. Verity had visited August? Traveled to see him, while I’d been rotting in my cabin? When I had suggested earlier to Chade that someone should 'pay August a visit' The last person I meant was Verity, I meant some well muscled agent of Chade's…And why didn't Chade tell me Verity had visited August?

"He keeps rabbits now." Verity's voice drifted into my ruminations. "Dozens of them, in hutches. Talks to them as if they're courtiers. His steward said that he weeps inconsolably when any die." Verity’s voice softened. "Poor Aunt Merry died when August was just a babe…he never knew his mother, and his father passed this year. That hit him hard. He has no siblings, no friends—just that steward whom I suspect has been bleeding his coffers dry. Whilst I was there I noticed some family heirlooms missing. August doesn’t register it. I've occasionally considered bringing him here. Letting him tend the warren gardens. Perhaps proximity to family might help him..."

I wrestled with the uncomfortable knot of emotions that twisted inside me. Why was Verity so determined to help August? Pity was one thing, but there was something more—an investment of care I couldn't comprehend. The way Verity spoke of him, with that wistful tone, as if August were some treasured relic of happier times rather than a traitor who had participated-however unwittingly- in an attempt on his life.

And why had Verity compared us? I was nothing like August. He'd been born to comfort and privilege, welcomed into the Farseer fold from his first breath, while I had been the stain on the line, the inconvenient reminder, something to hidden away. August had betrayed the crown due to weakness and manipulation. I had endured torture, exile, and worse, all while keeping my loyalty intact.

I studied my uncle trying to unpuzzle him.

Perhaps Verity simply couldn't help himself.…

Verity's nature, for all his warrior strength, harbored a gentleness that defied the hardness court life demanded. Maybe it wasn't about August specifically, but about Verity's own sense of responsibility toward family, toward the broken things he believed he could fix.

A chill ran through me. Was that how Verity saw me? Just another broken Farseer to repair, not so different from the rabbit-tending August? The thought left me despondent. I'd thought—hoped—I meant more to Verity than that. That our bond transcended mere duty or pity.

I forced a neutral expression onto my face, and tried to shove the sick hollow feeling to the back of my mind. Willing myself to calm, I asked myself what would Chade do with this information? The answer came to me. He'd let Verity believe he agreed with his assessment of August. But he would not let his guard down so easily. Chade wouldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of an investigation either. So neither could I.

Rabbit-keeper or not, August's mind might not be as damaged as Verity believed. Even a wounded snake could still bite.

The possibility of August faking his condition probably hadn't even crossed Verity's mind…

Perhaps Chade was right after all. Perhaps Verity needed protection from his own fundamental goodness. The thought that August might be plotting regicide whilst my king planned gardening activities for his cousin probably hadn't even occurred to Verity.

Well…it was clear I would have to investigate August myself. Quietly. Thoroughly. Without Verity's knowledge.

"My king…I understand your concern for August," I said carefully. "But perhaps it would be wise to have Chade investigate further allowing him near you?"

Verity smiled, shaking his head. "Ever the protector, aren't you, Fitz? Always seeing dangers in shadows."

"Not everyone is as honest as you are…" I muttered, peeved by his quick dismissal. "Some people can smile to your face while plotting to put a knife in your back."

To my surprise-and further irritation Verity laughed. "By Eda, you sound exactly like your father when you talk like that. Chivalry was always looking for wheels within wheels..."

I blinked, momentarily distracted by this unexpected comparison to my father. But the distraction quickly gave way to a building frustration. I struggled to comprehend his nonchalance. My face grew hot.

"You dismiss this threat too easily." My voice was tight. "And I haven't seen a single guard since I've been here…."

Verity appraised me, seeming a little taken a back by my sharp change in tone "There are plenty of guards at the entrance and exit to this floor, and my family chambers Fitz -as I mentioned this morning. But for obvious reasons, I cannot introduce you to them all personally. Unless you have changed your mind about announcing your presence here?"

"No. But still I think you should move them outside your door. As Shrewd did-"

"-If I station more guards in the corridor itself, it will severely restrict your movement while you're my guest at Buckkeep. Would you prefer to be confined entirely to the bed chamber?" Verity queried raising an eyebrow at me.

I scowled. "It's not about my comfort. It's about your safety. And what about Skill-controlled guards?" I pressed. "Any member of the Buckkeep guard could be possessed by an enemy Skill user. Have you considered that?"

To my immense frustration, Verity's lips curved.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"You're suggesting I deploy more guards" Verity said, chuckling, "and simultaneously saying I should be wary of every guard I have. Do you see the contradiction?"

Heat rushed to my face. "I'm saying you should be careful!"

I felt my hands begin to tremble. Irritated, I clasped them together in my lap to stop them shaking. The slow creep of another headache was beginning.

Verity's expression softened. "Fitz don't work yourself up so…I know your concern comes from a place of loyalty. So let me ease your mind." He leaned forward. "I've discovered something about Buckeep. The black stone of the inner castle walls and foundations? It's memory stone."

My eyebrows shot up. "Memory stone? Like what the dragons—"

"Yes. Not quite the same quality but similar. I've placed Skill-wards throughout it. No one can Skill into the castle or the inner keep from outside, but those of us inside can still Skill to each other and out."

I stared at him, digesting this information. If true, it was a powerful protection—one that negated many of the threats I'd been imagining.

"You've been busy," I admitted grudgingly.

"Yes, I have." Verity nodded. "So perhaps you might trust that I've considered the dangers facing me and my family more thoroughly than you assume?"

"What about August?" I asked, unable to let it go. You talked about bringing him here "What you've done can't protect you from someone if they're already inside Buckkeep."

Verity's expression immediately closed off. "August is not a threat. I have just explained that to you FitzChivalry."

"You can't know that for certain." I countered, my headache increasing. "The last time you trusted him, Galen was manipulating him. What if someone else has found a way—"

"Enough." Verity's voice wasn't loud, but it was an unmistakable order.

"But—"

"No." He raised a hand, cutting me off. "I can see you're fixating on this, and I won't allow it. It's not good for you. August is my concern, not yours."

The dismissal stung like a slap. "I'm trying to protect you-"

"-I know." His eyes softened slightly. "And again, I appreciate your loyalty. But in this matter, you must trust my judgment."

"The way I trusted your judgment about Regal?" The words escaped before I could stop them.

Verity went still, his eyes darkening. He stood, his patience showing the first crack I'd seen in a long time. "You speak of matters you don't understand. I think it is time for us both to retire for the night-"

Something erupted in me, I surged to my feet. After everything we'd gone through to drag him back- how could Verity be so cavalier?!

"-I understand perfectly." I snarled "I understand that you're a trusting fool who—"

"-Watch your mouth boy-" Verity's tone took on a dangerous edge.

But I couldn't stop. The words tumbled out despite the pain building behind my eyes. "Who will get himself killed because he refuses to see people for what they really are! Shrewd would have sent Chade to finish August off by now! But you'd bring the man who once tried to kill you into your home—near your child—because you feel sorry for him?! "

Verity's eyes flashed with a cold anger I rarely saw aimed at me. I felt the trembling begin in one of my legs

"You overstep boy!" Verity snapped, his voice rising to match mine. "Do not mistake my compassion for weakness. I was fighting raiders on our borders before you could hold a sword. Do not presume to lecture me on naivety or danger!"

I opened my mouth to reply, but the words wouldn't come. The trembling in my hands spread to my arms, then my shoulders. "I just... I just…want to keep you safe." I managed, my voice suddenly sounding distant to my own ears.

Verity's anger faltered as he looked at me more closely. "Fitz?" His tone changed abruptly. "Fitz, what's wrong?"

I tried to answer, but my teeth had begun to chatter. The room tilted around me, The shuddering intensified, spreading through my body like wildfire. I gripped the edge of the back of the chair, knuckles white. Suddenly I couldn't get enough air into my lungs.

Verity moved toward me, all traces of our argument gone from his face. "Sit down. Now."

I tried to obey, but my legs buckled beneath me.

Verity's strong arms caught me before I could fall, pulling me against his chest. The fit hadn't fully taken me, but I teetered on its edge.

Chapter Text

Verity lowered us both to the rug by the hearth and kept me against him.

I struggled against both Verity's grip and the shudders that wracked my frame. "I'm fine…" I insisted, though my chattering teeth betrayed me. "You can let go now…."

"Your stubbornness will be your undoing one day. I'll release you when you stop shaking…" Verity's arms tightened around me, holding me steady as another wave of trembling hit. "Your body is fighting a battle on multiple fronts—poison, exhaustion, and now agitation."

I clenched my jaw against the tremors. "I don't need—"

"Hush-You push yourself too hard, as always. " Verity murmured, moving one hand to the back of neck, gently kneading the muscles there.

"I won't have you working yourself into a seizure over matters I have well in hand. I apologize for teasing you about being concerned for my safety. I'd forgotten how prickly you were about such things."

My pride stung, but I could not deny the calming effect that seeped into me from his anchoring touch. The fire crackled in the hearth, it's heat combined with the heat of Verity's body seemed to penetrate the cold tremors that threatened to overcome me. My breathing slowed, matching the steady rise and fall of Verity's chest beneath my cheek. His hand continued its gentle pressure at the nape of my neck, coaxing my muscles into relaxation, and the trembling gradually subsided.

"There now" Verity murmured after several minutes had passed. "Better?"

I gave a small nod.

"I think I can stand on my own now." I tried to pull away but wobbled, Verity's arms steadied me again.

"Why not try sitting before standing hm?" Verity hauled me back to the armchair and pushed me down into it. "Now just keep yourself still for a few minutes" He ordered

I rubbed my eyes with the backs of my hands, feeling suddenly exhausted. The brief outburst had drained whatever reserves of energy I'd built up during my recovery.

I had no energy to protest when Verity wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. He hovered over me, I think, he was trying to make sure I wasn't going to fall out of the chair before he moved away.

My head throbbed dully as I thought about my blistering words to Verity.

I'd let my anger get the better of me and made a mess of things.

Again.

"I overstepped." I said quietly, my voice rough. "I'm sorry."

Verity remained silent, waiting. When I finally looked up, his face held no anger, only a patient expectation that I would continue.

"It's not my place to question your judgment about August." The admission tasted bitter, but I forced it out. "You are the king. And you knew him long before we even met."

Verity reclaimed his seat across from me, leaning back in the chair. When he spoke it was quietly and slowly, as if to some wounded horse, that might spook easily, but there was a firmness to it too. "You're allowed to have concerns, Fitz. But there are better ways to express them."

I nodded quietly. "Yes, my King. I should not have spoken that way to you." I took a steadying breath. "I just don't want anything to happen to you." The words came out softer than I intended, more vulnerable than I would have normally allowed. "You've only just returned to your life—to Kettricken, to your son. The thought of someone taking that away..." I trailed off, unable to finish.

The look in Verity's eyes was sad. "Fitz what am I to do with you? A more faithful man I could not ask for…." He placed a hand on my shoulder "But you must listen to me: I don't want you obsessing over August." Verity told me gently. "It's not good for your recovery. And frankly, it's not necessary."

I stared silently at the floor. Resigned.

Verity sighed "I'll get you some water." He offered, already moving toward a side table where a pitcher stood.

"I'd prefer something stronger." I muttered.

Verity hesitated, then relented with a small shake of his head. As if doing something against his better judgement, he retrieved my goblet and filled it generously from a new bottle. I took it with both hands to prevent spilling, then drank deeply, welcoming the warmth that spread through my chest and loosened the knot of tension in my shoulders. The wine from new bottle was stronger and richer than the last.

I held the cup out wordlessly for more. Verity refilled it, but with a pointed look.

"This is your last one." He warned as he poured. "After you finish that cup, I'm taking you to bed. You need rest more than you need wine. Or talk of intrigues….I don't want you making yourself even more ill…"

"M'fine."

Verity crossed his arms and watched me until I drained the last of my wine in three long swallows. As I set down the empty goblet, the room wobbled. The warmth that had been pleasantly spreading through my limbs suddenly became a wave of dizziness that made my head spin.

I gripped the arms of my chair as the floor seemed to roll beneath my feet like the deck of a ship.

"Fitz?"

"M'fine." I said again. I tried to stand but my legs wouldn't cooperate. "Just... the wine's stronger than I..." My tongue felt thick and clumsy in my mouth.

"Ah." Verity's realised, his voice held equal parts concern and exasperation. "I should have considered your weakened state before letting you drink so much. The poison is likely still affecting how your body processes alcohol."

"'M not weak," I insisted. "Jus' need... minute..."

"Come, Fitz. Let's get you to bed before you fall asleep in that chair."

Verity stood over me, his hand extended. I blinked at it stupidly for a moment before reaching up. His grip was warm and solid as he pulled me to my feet.

"I can walk," I protested as Verity ducked under my arm, positioning himself as a living crutch.

"Of course you can," he agreed with dry amusement. "Just as I can watch you stumble into every wall between here and your chambers."

I conceded with a grunt, allowing him to support my weight as we made our way through the secret door and into the hidden corridor. The stone walls seemed to undulate slightly in the torchlight, and I concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other.

"You're a good king," I mumbled as we turned a corner. "Better'n your father. Better'n Chivalry would've been, I think."

Verity's step faltered slightly. "The wine speaks for you, Fitz…"

"No," I insisted, my tongue struggling with the shape of the words. "S'true. You care about people. Even the ones you shouldn't, like August."

"Fitz…" Verity warned.

"S'why I'm going to make sure you stay alive." I patted his chest clumsily with my free hand. "No matter what. Even if I..."

"Even if what?" Verity prompted when I trailed off.

"Even if you don't want me to…" I finished, amending the thought from what I had been going to say. My head lolled slightly against his shoulder. "S'my job."

Verity frowned "Your job is to get well again boy."

We reached the door to my borrowed chambers, and Verity shouldered it open. The bed looked impossibly inviting as he guided me toward it. My legs gave out the moment we reached it, and I collapsed onto the mattress with an ungraceful thud.

Verity helped pull off my boots and swung my legs up onto the bed, shaking his head with fond exasperation. "Perhaps you might worry more about keeping yourself alive, and less about me." He commented as he helped me struggle out of my day clothes and into a fresh nightshirt.

I made a dismissive gesture with my hand, collapsing back against the bed, when I finally had the nightshirt on. "That's not how the pieces on the board work. King's the important one. Other pieces get sacrificed for the king. S'how the game works."

Verity went still, his expression darkening as he looked down at me. "You are not a chess piece, FitzChivalry."

"Am." I insisted, my eyelids growing heavy. "Always have been. S'alright. I accepted it long ago." I blinked drowsily up at Verity, fighting against the wine's pull toward sleep. " 'S my duty, and you need looking after. You're too... trusting. Too good. S'why you're my favorite uncle…" I slurred, patting his arm clumsily. "Better than Regal. Mean bastard, he was." I chuckled at my own joke, though Verity remained solemn. "Get it? Bastard?"

Verity sighed. "Fitz—"

"-No, listen." I pushed myself up on my elbows, swaying slightly. "I'm going to protect you. And Kettricken. And the baby. All of you." I made a expansive failing gesture with my arms. "People'll take advantage. 'Cause you're too nice. Too... honorable."

Verity freed the blankets underneath me, then arranged them over me, tucking them carefully around me.

"And who will protect you, Fitz?" Verity asked softly. "If you're protecting everyone else, who looks after you?"

The question confused me. I frowned, trying to make sense of it through the wine-fog clouding my thoughts. "Don't need protection. Not important enough for that."

"Not important?" Something flashed in Verity's eyes—anger, perhaps, or pain. "Is that truly what you believe?"

"Course." I said without hesitation, and I did believe it. I wasn't important—not like he was. I didn't understand the confusion I sensed in him at my words, was there an undercurrent of sadness? I struggled to sit up straighter, trying to make it clearer to Verity. I thought of Burrich. I'd explain it like Burrich explained it to me.

"Burrich taught me…" I slurred trying to explain. "S'what he always said. Kingsmen look after their king, not the other way round." I poked a finger in the general direction of Verity's chest, missing and jabbing the air instead. "King first. Always. That's why he served my father so well. Why he... why he raised me for the Farseers. To serve. To be useful."

Verity captured my flailing hand and held it in two of his own, patting it. "Burrich taught you many valuable lessons, but I fear some of them may have been... overzealous."

"No." I struggled to sit up straighter, my indignation momentarily clearing the haze of wine. "Burrich was right. Always right about duty. Just... how things are supposed to be. Natural order. Kings rule, soldiers fight, stableboys muck out stalls, and bastards..." I trailed off, suddenly uncertain how to finish my own sentence.

"And bastards?" Verity prompted gently.

"Bastards do what needs doing," I finished. "The hard things. The bloody things. Things no one else will do." I tapped my chest clumsily. "That's Chade. That's me. That's our place." I nodded emphatically, pleased with my explanation despite slumping back on the bed.

"Oh Fitz…" Verity was still holding my hand between his, as if afraid I might disappear if he let go. His face revealed a deep sorrow which confused me further.

"S'alright," I mumbled, patting his top hand with my free one. "I accepted it long ago. Just... just let me help with August. Please. Need to make sure you're safe."

Verity's grim expression bothered me. Seeing him so downcast tugged at something in my chest. This wasn't right. Kings shouldn't look so sad.

"Why're you looking like that?" I squinted at him, trying to focus. "S'not so bad." I attempted a lopsided smile. "Someone's got to protect you from yourself….and you have to be cheerful. S'part of being king. Good for morale and all that." I waved my hand in a vague circular motion. "Can't have the kingdom seeing you all... gloomy."

Without warning, Verity pulled me into a fierce hug. I stiffened in surprise.

"Fitz listen to me," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "My favorite nephew is not some pawn on chessboard. Not to me, not to Kettricken, not to anyone. If I thought you'd remember this conversation in the morning, I would list every reason why until my voice gave out. But I suspect this entire exchange will be lost to you by sunrise…"

I blinked, my cheek pressed against his shoulder. A warm wave of affection washed through me, mingling with the wine's effects.

"M'your only nephew," I mumbled into his shirt.

Verity's chest rumbled with a brief chuckle as he released me, though his eyes remained serious. He eased me back against the pillows. "My point still stands"

"Rest now." he commanded gently, pulling the blanket up to my chin. "When you're sober, we'll have a long talk about some of these…silly ideas you have about yourself."

"Not silly." I protested feebly, but my eyelids were already drooping. "Just... truth."

"We'll see." Verity's hand rested briefly on my head. "Sleep, Fitz."

Chapter Text

Blinding light flooded my chamber. I cracked one eye open to see Kettricken flinging open the shutters mercilessly. The brightness made the hammers in my head pound louder.

Foolish packmate. Drinking the bad water again.

Nighteyes pressed his warm body against my back, his familiar wolf-scent mingling with the mustiness of bedding. When had he joined me? I'd been too deep in my cups to notice.

"Up now, FitzChivalry. It's already late morning." Kettricken stood over me, hands on her hips

I groaned loudly and buried my head in my pillow.

"Verity should have known better than to ply you with wine while you're still healing. But you should have known better than to accept it."

Elder-sister is not pleased with you. Or her mate. Nighteyes supplied unhelpfully

"It wasn't Verity's fault…" I mumbled, as I struggled to sit up, the movement making me feel slightly queasy "I'm a grown man. I chose to drink."

She marched to the bedside table and poured water from a pitcher. "Drink this."

I took the cup she thrust at me and sipped. There was mint and lemon in it. I wasn't fond of mint.

"All of it." she ordered firmly. "It will help clear your head"

I felt I had no choice but to obey. Grimacing I drained the cup.

"Good. Now out of bed. We have exercises to do."

I stared at her, hoping she was jesting. "Now?"

"Of course now FitzChivalry. The same as yesterday. They will help." She tugged the covers away despite my protests.

I will investigate the kitchens while you dance with with elder-sister. Nighteyes stretched lazily and jumped down from the bed.

Traitor. I sent to him moodily as he padded out the door.

With great reluctance, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood on unsteady feet. Kettricken positioned herself before me and began the slow, flowing movements I recalled from the previous day.

I followed clumsily at first, my body protesting each bend and stretch. But as we continued through the sequence, something unexpected happened. The pounding in my head began to recede, and my stomach settled. By the third repetition, sweat had broken out across my brow, and I found myself breathing deeply, almost rhythmically.

"You see, you are much better." Kettricken pronounced.

I nodded cautiously, surprised to find it was true.

"You are to stay away from wine until you are fully healed FitzChivalry. Tea and water only from now on" Kettricken told me sternly, wagging a finger at me. Then she gestured toward a silver tray at the small table by the window, which I hadn't noticed before.

"You are to eat everything. Verity says skill healing takes extra energy from the body. You must replace it. And afterward, the herbs in the bath again."

I eyed the tray dubiously. My stomach had settled, but the thought of food still seemed ambitious. I lifted the lid. The spread looked good—fresh seeded bread, a bowl of honeyed porridge with nuts and dried fruit, a few rashers of bacon and a boiled egg.

"Eat all of it." Kettricken repeated firmly, as if reading my thoughts. "I'll know if you don't." With that final warning, she slipped out, leaving me to my breakfast.

Elder sister speaks sense, Nighteyes contributed from wherever he'd wandered off to. Strong bodies hunt better than weak ones.

I flopped into the chair and picked up a spoon. I wasn't sure I wanted to eat. But forced myself to take a spoonful.

I found the porridge was warmly spiced and hearty and by the time I'd finished half the bowl, I found myself hungry rather than merely obedient. I cleared the rest of the tray completely.

After, I picked up the basket containing the herbs and found it also contained another set of well made clothes, and two more shirts, which seemed an extravagance.

The paths to the royal baths remained unfamiliar, but I managed to find my way through the hidden corridors Verity had shown me.

I shed my clothes and sank into the hot water, relaxing my head against the side of the pool.

Memories of the previous evening floated into my mind, things were hazy after the conversation about August… But what flashes I had of my behaviour were extremely embarrassing, I hoped I'd only dreamt most of it…but if not..I resolved to apologise to Verity again. Certainly he had not deserved any of my rudeness to him, no matter how much his blasé attitude to threats worried me.

I had just finished bathing and was pulling on fresh clothes when the far wall shifted. I tensed, then relaxed as Chade emerged through the concealed door.

"Good day, my boy." He greeted "I trust you're feeling better after your... indulgence last night?" he asked smoothly.

"News travels fast…" I muttered, pulling a fresh linen shirt over my head.

Chade snorted. "Verity is rather cross with me. He believes I should never have mentioned August to you." He stated. "He says I've 'agitated you unnecessarily during your recovery'. He also said you had a 'heated discussion' and claimed I'd filled your head with paranoid suspicions." He leaned against the stone wall, narrowing his eyes at me. "What happened, boy?"

I fiddled with the last button on my shirt, trying to think of a reply. The fact that Verity had discussed our conversation with Chade left me feeling too exposed. How much had he shared?

I looked away, focusing on retrieving my boots. After briefly pondering my options I decided to confess "My… temper got the better of me. We were talking about August, and I... I grew angry at how dismissive Verity seemed about the threat." I pulled on one boot, then the other. "I said some things I shouldn't have. But I apologized. I….I will again today…."

I carefully omitted any mention of my fit. Chade didn't need to know how weak I'd been, how my body had betrayed me at the height of my anger. Some pride remained to me.

Chade's face darkened. "By the Witness stones boy! Have you learned nothing?" His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "You cannot afford to lose your temper with Verity. Would you have behaved so with Shrewd?"

"I know. It was—"

"-Fond as he is of you. Verity is King." Chade cut me off. "Not just your uncle. Not just your friend. The King. When you speak to him, you speak to the throne of the Six Duchies."

I lowered my gaze, properly chastised. "I know. You're right…"

"Your temper has always been your biggest weakness, Fitz." Chade's stated shaking his head. "You must learn to master it."

"I will…" I promised quietly. "It won't happen again."

Chade's face grew contemplative. "See that it doesn't. Even Verity's patience has limits….And I must say….didn't think you'd ask him such obvious questions…" Chade grumbled. "You might as well have announced our suspicions with trumpets and heralds. You were supposed to be more circumspect…"

"I know, I know…It's just…" I self consciously scratched the back of my head groping for an excuse "I had more wine than I intended…" It was feeble.

Chade shook his head again, then seemed to let it go. He sighed "…Ah well what's done is done I suppose…" Chade stroked his white beard thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on me "Your temper is one thing boy. But what I don't understand is why Verity now seems…" Chade groped for words "Concerned about your.…nerves"

"My nerves?" I repeated perplexed.

"Yes" Chade studied me intently. "Verity seemed unusually concerned about your state of mind. He mentioned something about you needing rest not just for your body but your spirit." He narrowed his eyes. "I confess I'm puzzled. I've always known you as resilient boy. Capable. You've endured far worse than a poisoned bolt."

I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. I really didn't want to discuss this. "I'm not sure what Verity meant either, Chade. Though I am more tired from healing. Perhaps that's what he's referring to"

Chade studied me carefully, like a puzzle he was trying to unpick. "Well, you are up and about and seem much better to my eyes...But Verity spoke to me as if you were on the verge of shattering…"

I shook my head quickly. Quite mortified by Verity's perception of me. "I'm fine. Just tired from the poison still…" But in truth it was easy for me to see why Verity would be convinced I'd become something of a gibbering nervous wreck who might start wailing at the drop of a pin. I vowed to get through at least one day at Buckkeep without unmanning myself in front of my King.

Chade sighed "Well, whatever Verity sees—or thinks he sees—it's becoming a distraction. And a king cannot govern well when his mind is concerned with other matters."

I bristled. "I haven't asked for his concern."

"Nevertheless, you have it." Chade's stated matter of factly. Then went on "The Chalced ambassador arrived shortly before you did. We are trying to secure trade agreements with them. If successful, it could mean stability and prosperity for the Six Duchies for years to come. These are critical Fitz, they would help the Duchies rebuild from the war and ensure peace along our borders. The kingdom needs Verity's full attention on statecraft, not on whether you're eating enough or sleeping well or... whatever else has him fussing over you like a mother hen with one chick."

The words struck a sore spot, though I knew he had not meant them harshly. Chade was clearly completely confused about why Verity was fretting over his fully grown former assassin.

I felt a kind of shame. Chade was right, Verity had spent far too much time on me. I had not thought about the cost of his time, and how affected the kingdom.

"I understand." I said quietly at last, feeling a weight grow heavier on my shoulders.

"Listen, boy." Chade's voice softened slightly. "We all want you back to full health. But I'm sure you are more than capable of feeding and amusing yourself without Verity needing to hover over you. The less you distract the King from his duties right now, the better for everyone."

"I'll stay out of his way," I promised. Though the thought brought a hollow feeling I couldn't quite name.

"It's not about staying out of his way," Chade corrected. "That would only make him more worried-It's about reassuring him you're well, so he can give the kingdom the attention it requires. Just try and be more cheerful in his company…well…perhaps not cheerful. That's not you. But perhaps a bit less…brooding….or less of…" he waved a hand dismissively "Less of whatever you think he's picking up on and is making him worry"

"I understand, Chade." I said quietly "I'll be...better."

"Good." Chade said satisfied. He patted my shoulder companionably, and smiled. "To be frank, your temperament seems no worse to me than normal. Sullen, stubborn, quick tempered prone to rash decisions—the usual Fitz."

"Your assessment flatters me, Lord Fallstar." I replied dryly.

Chade continued undaunted by my sarcasm "I told Verity you are most ill tempered and brooding when you are left idle. Idle hands lead to idle thoughts, and idle thoughts lead to... complications. Minds like yours and mine, boy-we're not made for leisure and reflection. We're made for purpose."

I sighed, maybe Chade was right…. Without all consuming tasks to occupy me, my thoughts inevitably circled back to dark places—to my losses, my mistakes, my inadequacies.

"However I do approve of the skilling session you've arranged with him today" Chade said walking towards the secret door.

"Skill session?" I echoed, suddenly remembering Verity's offer from the night before. "I'd forgotten entirely. It's set for noon?"

Chade nodded. "In his tower. In fact it's almost time. Come along now."

Chade reopened the passage out of the baths and waved me to follow him. I gathered my belongings and followed him into the dark corridor.

Chapter Text

"If Verity needs to focus on the Chalced negotiations, perhaps I should suggest postponing our Skill session. I can tell him I'm not feeling well enough yet-"

"-No." Chade said quickly. "On the contrary, I think this particular activity will be good for you both." Chade waved away a large cobweb as he traversed the passage. "I've been urging Verity to form another coterie. The kingdom would be stronger with more Skilled ones, but Verity has told me rather firmly that he's 'had his fill of coteries' since the last lot tried to kill him... But Gods forbid we end up in the same dire situation that we did during the Red Ship wars — with only one skill user between us and disaster"

"The king's feelings are understandable.." I said feeling the urge to speak in Verity's defence.

"Perhaps. But you-" Chade threw a smile back at me, a devious sparkle in his bright green eyes. "-You could help change his mind."

I frowned at him. "Me?"

"Yes. You have considerable influence over Verity's opinions" Chade stated.

This surprised me.

"Verity thinks for himself." I countered. I thought of Verity's unshakeable determination to go questing for the Elderlings, he certainly had not listened to my objections then... Nor had he listened when I'd warned him about taking more drastic action early on with Regal. Nor to my pleas about not sealing himself into his dragon… I didn't think Verity listened to me very much at all…

"Of course he thinks for himself." Chade said dismissively, as though my objections had only bolstered his point "But we all consider the counsel of those we respect and trust. And he respects and trusts you, Fitz.….and… it doesn't hurt that you look so similar to Chivalry. Sometimes I think it was just as well that Verity was kept at arm's length when you were a boy…" Chade mused.

"What do you mean?" I frowned, unable to follow this direction of the conversation.

"Just that if Verity had been allowed to indulge you openly when you were a child—" Chade shook his head with a soft chuckle. "He would have spoiled you beyond salvation. Toys and sweets, ponies and whatever else struck his fancy. Queen Desire pampered Regal shamefully, but Verity might have been even worse with you given half a chance"

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember Verity's wolfhound? Leon?"

"Of course" I wondered what this had to do with me.

"Verity was absolutely ridiculous with that animal as a pup. Let the creature eat from his plate at formal dinners. Carried it about tucked in his vest when it was small. Shrewd nearly had an apoplexy." Chade's eyes twinkled with the memory. "And that was just a dog…Gods only know how much more indulgent he would have been with a miniature Chivalry…

..You have to understand, boy…" Chade's voice took on that distant tone that meant he was focused on the past rather than the present. "Verity worshipped Chivalry when he was younger. Everyone knew it. Then Verity's beloved older brother was gone from court….And suddenly there was this little copy of him running about Buckkeep….of course he would have spoiled you rotten if he'd been allowed…." He sighed. "It's clear that Kettricken will need to be the disciplinarian when it comes to Prince Dutiful. Verity hasn't the heart for it."

I stared at Chade, trying to make sense of what he was saying. The image he painted—Verity showering a child with gifts and affection—bore no resemblance to my own childhood. My early years had been filled with loneliness, stable chores, weapons practice, and poison lessons. Indulgence wasn't a word I associated with my upbringing.

If he'd been allowed, Chade had said. Those words caught in my mind like a burr on wool.

Why had Verity been forbidden to show me favour? I remembered the times I'd encountered Verity as a boy—he was kind but distant.

I tried to imagine it: Growing up with Verity treating me like that beloved wolfhound, with open affection instead of just the vague acknowledgment I'd grown accustomed to. The thought made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

"It appears you were right about August." Chade's voice startled me out of my musings

"Pardon?"

"Your initial thoughts on the matter were likely correct. One of my spies has returned from his estate….I say estate…it's more a rocky outpost in the middle of nowhere… "

Suddenly alert, I straightened and almost banged my head on a low beam. "And?"

"August seems in no fit state to do much of anything these days." Chade's face creased with mild distaste and a sprinkling of something akin to pity. "According to my man, he can hardly tie his own boot laces. Needs a servant to help him remember where is most days..."

I should have felt relief. Instead, a strange, bitter feeling welled up in me—a jealousy I couldn't justify mixed with suspicion.

"We shouldn't dismiss him as a suspect." I said firmly. "Not until I can manage to Skill into his thoughts and see for myself."

Chade's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. "What changed your mind about him? Just yesterday you seemed very convinced by Verity's defence of his cousin."

I scratched the back of my neck uncomfortably, unwilling to admit even to myself the petty jealousy I felt toward this cousin who had been raised openly at court while I'd been hidden away. August, who had played with Chivalry and Verity as a child. August, whose legitimacy had never been questioned.

"I…I just have a bad feeling about him." I finally muttered.

Chade sighed heavily. "We can't work on 'feelings' boy. We need logic. Evidence. Reasoned deduction." He paused, studying my face. "Though I suppose in your case..."

"What?" I asked, defensive.

Chade's mouth twisted into a thoughtful pucker. "Perhaps your 'feelings' are worth more than others… You do have both the Wit and the Skill….and your instincts have kept you alive this long, despite numerous attempts to end you. That counts for something in my ledger..."

"August could be controlling your spy." I said, the idea suddenly crystallizing in my mind. "Making him see only what August wants him to see."

Chade froze. His expression shifted from dismissal to consideration.

"I hadn't thought of that," he admitted slowly. His eyes narrowed as he reassessed the situation. "A Skilled one could certainly plant false perceptions... make my man see a drooling invalid rather than a scheming assassin."

"Exactly." I nodded, warming to my theory.

Chade shook his head ruefully. "I'm getting old, boy. Such an obvious possibility should have occurred to me immediately." Chade murmured.

"You've had a lot on your mind." I offered.

"Not so much as to miss something this crucial." Chade's eyes gleamed with sudden approval. "It's good to have you back, Fitz. And I'm pleased to see your enthusiasm about using the Skill again."

His words caught me off guard. I wasn't exactly enthused…But I would try it if it meant protecting Verity.

"I need to verify August's condition myself." I said instead. "I not sure if I will be successful, but I will try...later perhaps…when I am alone"

Chade nodded, and I ducked another cobweb as I followed him up yet another flight of stairs.

"Well, here we are." He gestured to a well concealed door. "This comes out behind the wall tapestry in Verity's tower. I'll leave you to it."

Then he was gone, melting back into the darkness of the passage. I entered the tower room, Verity stood by the window gazing out over Buckkeep bay. He turned round at my entrance, a smile warming his face.

"Ah, Fitz! Right on time. Come in, come in." He beckoned warmly

Chapter Text

"My king…" I greeted Verity with a low formal bow. I didn't want to be presumptuous after my behavior the previous night.

"Such ceremony" Verity amusement coloured his voice as he waved away my attempt at courtly decorum. "As I've said before there is no need for such stiffness between Fitz…How are you feeling today?"

I straightened my back but kept my head bowed. "I... I'm well enough, thank you." I cleared my throat, chancing a look at him and then words tumbled out. "Your Majesty, I must beg pardon for last night. My behavior was... inexcusable. The wine, and my condition—" I fumbled, trying to find something to explain away the hazy memories of arguing with Verity, collapsing and babbling at him when he helped me to bed…I came up short.. "I spoke out of turn, and with disrespect…" I offered quietly instead "I-I humbly ask your forgiveness." I chanced a look at him.

"You were already forgiven last night FitzChivalry. Wine has loosened many a tongue in these halls, and I am not a man that holds grudges. But did I want to discuss some of what you said just before you fell asleep…"

I almost squirmed where I stood. I couldn't think of anything worse. I did not want to revisit any of the blubbering flashes that had come back to me. I'd have preferred him to scold or punish me my behaviour rather than start dissecting it.

"I-I was drunk! It was all nonsense…" I blurted.

"Was it?" Verity pressed. "Because it sounded like something you've carried for a long while—"

"—It's not important. Just the ramblings of a man in his cups." I hoped desperately that the floor might open and swallow me whole.

"Fitz—"

"-Please, my king." I cut him off, then immediately regretted my boldness. " I mean...forgive me, but it's not something that warrants your concern. You have a kingdom to run, threats to manage. This is unworthy of your time. They were just... ramblings. Meaningless." I couldn't look at him.

Verity studied me for a long moment, I suspected his eyes saw far too much. Finally, he sighed heavily. "Very well… But this conversation isn't finished—merely postponed." He gave me a pointed look. "I want us to speak of this properly, when you're ready."

I gave a flushed nod, relieved at the reprieve, and stammered out the rest of my apology. "You've seen too many outbursts from me of late. I promise I'll pull myself together. You won't have to endure any more of my... episodes."

Something like alarm flashed across Verity's face.

"That's….not what I meant, Fitz." he said quietly. "I do not wish you to stop confiding in me…."

For a moment I wasn't sure how to respond. Then I pressed on.

"My king…. My..outbursts..have already taken up too much of your time. Time that you should be spending on your royal duties. I…I assure you I am fine. There is nothing you need concern yourself with."

"Fitz, time freely given isn't time taken." Verity replied sounding a little tried. "However I do wish you'd stop saying that."

"Saying what?" I asked, confused.

"That you're fine." He crossed his arms over his chest, giving me a stern look of disapproval.

I stared at him at loss for what else I should say.

After a while he gave his head an irritated short shake, like he was conceding some battle to me that I hadn't known we were waging "Fitz, sometimes talking to you and Chade is like catching smoke…So it was with Chivalry too at times….I will let this lie for now, but we will return to this subject another time."

I was silent waiting for him to continue. I seemed to have unintentionally irritated Verity, and I wasn't exactly sure how I was provoking him…

"For Now…" Verity sighed, and seemed to compose himself "…Shall we practice the Skill? Or would you prefer to rest today?"

"No my king I've spent too much time in bed….I should like to practice…if it still pleases you?"

Verity gave me a nod. "Very well. But you are to tell me immediately if you begin to tire and need to rest." Verity told me with a stern look.

I gave a quick nod and he looked satisfied. Verity walked to a thick Mountain style rug in the center of the room - a new addition. The room was still sparsely furnished, but looked less bare than I remembered. There were several large colourful cushions piled on the rug, Verity settled himself cross legged on one. He gestured for me to join him on another. I started to move then suddenly halted. I felt a slight flutter of panic in me. Verity noticed.

"What is it Fitz?" His voice was patient.

"There are…" I met his eyes briefly before looking away, not sure how to phrase my concern "…things that I'd prefer to keep to myself during our session…."

"Fitz…" Verity said gently "I have no desire to sift through your private thoughts. I promise I'll remain on the surface of your mind only, guiding rather than probing."

"Thank you" I murmured, shoulders relaxing slightly.

"However…" Verity added with a hint of amusement, "you should know you've always had a tendency to...how should I put this…mentally shout."

Heat crept up my neck, as I thought of my skill dreams as a teenager that I had unintentionally assailed Verity with.

"It's not uncommon among those with strong natural Skill-talent" Verity assured me. "But you might want to be mindful of not projecting anything you'd prefer I not overhear?" A small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

My face burned hotter.

I nodded "I'll... try to keep my thoughts….quieter."

"Good." Verity smiled "So, are you ready to begin our session, nephew?"

"Yes uncle." I said without thinking and Verity's smile broadened to a grin. I realised I had never called him that before… Only 'My Prince' or 'My King' and when we were in private 'Verity'. But never Uncle. I suddenly felt a bit embarrassed at my familiarity, but Verity seemed very pleased with my slip, even though he made no comment and instead began his instructions.

"Close your eyes and breathe deeply. Calm your mind"

I did as bid, drawing air slowly into my lungs and exhaling without hurry. After several breaths, I felt myself relax, my body sinking into the cushion.

"Good," Verity murmured. "Now, reach for the Skill, but don't strain. Just extend your awareness toward it, like dipping your fingers in a stream."

I attempted to follow his directions, tentatively reaching for that familiar current—then pain lanced through my skull like a hot needle, familiar and terrifying. I jerked back with a gasp, instinctively retreating from the Skill-current as though from a scalding pot.

Chapter Text

"Steady…" Verity's voice was beside me and inside my mind. I felt Verity's strength flow through our connection, reinforcing the fragile pathways of my own ability, and buffering me from the pain.

Verity's consciousness moved differently than I'd felt before. His Skill lifted and reinforced mine, like a strong current supporting a weaker swimmer.

"Now try again…" he encouraged. "Reach out, but gently. Give yourself time"

Hesitantly, I extended my thoughts toward the Skill-stream once more. With Verity creating a barrier between me and the raw current. The burning headache diminished to something manageable.

Then suddenly I was flowing into the Skill-current with ease.

"It doesn't hurt." I whispered, astonished.

"I'm supporting the weight of your skilling…" Verity explained. "The strain falls on me, not you."

My wonder gave way to an edge of panic. Worried I was sapping him, I instinctively begin to withdraw. "Verity, is this draining you? Does it hurt to hold my….Skill-weight-" Was that the right word? "-like this?"

Verity's consciousness tightened gently around mine, but it wasn't uncomfortable, but more like he'd wrapped me in an exuberant bear hug, it was affectionate, but halted my retreat.

"Peace, Fitz. This costs me little. Supporting your Skill is no great burden. Think of it as carrying a child one's shoulders—a small weight that I've ample strength to bear."

I relaxed marginally, still uncertain. "Are you certain? I don't wish to—"

"I would tell you if it taxed me." Verity interrupted firmly. " My Skill-strength is more than sufficient for us both, certainly in these light exercises."

As he spoke, I quested back to him, exploring almost unconsciously. He was open to me and suddenly I sensed the vast depth of his power—like standing at the edge of a deep well and glimpsing only a fraction of its darkness below.

It was dizzying…

Verity's consciousness rippled with something like amusement. "The skill river and stone dragon changed me. My Skill flows more freely now….and the source always feels…closer…"

"And the Skill-hunger?" I ventured without thinking. "You don't seem to suffer from it anymore either…" I observed. That terrible craving that had left him gaunt and hollow-eyed during the days of the Red Ship Wars—seemed absent from him now…. "Unless you hide it extremely well?"

I realised the question sounded impertinent, but the gap between thinking, considering and communicating was so much smaller when we were linked like this…Fortunately Verity look no offense.

"Yes…That particular affliction seems to have left me." Verity mused.

I wondered at that…. Even I myself still felt the Skill's insistent pull, even weakened as my own skill was...Verity sensed my puzzlement

"Fitz, do you recall those honey-glazed walnut clusters the Bingtown traders bring to Buckkeep every autumn festival?"

"Er….Vaguely my King."

"Those treats were an obsession of mine when I was a young boy." He chuckled. "When I was seven, I managed to obtain an entire sack of them. I hid behind the stables and devoured them." He grimaced. "I was terribly sick afterward—retching for a full day, bile tinged with honey. Even Chivalry's sympathy wore thin by evening."

Verity grew thoughtful. "The strangest thing happened after that. When the traders returned the following year with those same treats, I'd lost all desire for them…"

I understood. "And that's what happened with the Skill?" I asked.

"In a manner of speaking." Verity confirmed. "The Skill-hunger was much the same as those sweets…. in a way I gorged myself on it when I became the dragon.…I almost drowned in pure skill-substance…and that more than sated the craving…I now even feel a sense repulsion at the idea of letting myself dissolve in skill current….of leaving my family when they still need me…..With the threat of the Red Ships gone, it would be shameful and irresponsible of me….I suppose the whole experience cured me…though the cure in this case was worse than the disease… "

I felt a surprising relief at that. A small part of me had worried that I would loose Verity to the skill again. I was about to ask another question when something flashed between us—I saw myself, but through Verity's eyes. I was ten or twelve, with too-large eyes in a thin face, shoulders hunched. In Verity's perspective, I appeared smaller somehow, more fragile than I'd ever imagined I'd looked. The image shimmered, and I was no longer a boy but a wolf cub, all big eyes and oversized paws, tumbling about with more enthusiasm than coordination.

Verity's overwhelming affection for these visions stunned me. I felt his desire to scoop up this earnest, clumsy creature and shield it from harm.

"What was that?" I demanded. The image had been at once endearing, and a little patronising.…Surely that wasn't how he saw…

"Oh…That's how I see you sometimes. Apologies… sometimes personal impressions leak through a skill link"

"You see me as a child?!" I said, unable to keep my affront from my voice. I think my warrior's pride was more insulted than my sentimentality was awakened. "Or a puppy….?"

I wasn't sure which was worse.

"Sometimes, yes." he admitted without apology. "Not always, but often enough…"

He didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with either of those. "I'm grown, and a warrior, who's fought with you..." I spluttered. It would have been one thing for Verity to see me as fully grown formidable wolf—but a cub?

Verity was undaunted in his response. "Yes, and one has shared plenty of his own impressions of me over our years together" He countered mildly. "Not all of them particularly flattering I might add."

"I….I've w-what?"

"You once perceived me as a mountain with a crown. Another time as an oak tree with roots spreading through the Six Duchies. That was flattering actually, though not entirely accurate."

I suddenly felt embarrassed. What else had I shared? "I don't remember sending you those thoughts…."

"They weren't conscious sharings. Just leaks that occasionally flow through a connection when someone is relaxed and open to you…." Verity's explained patiently. "But there were less flattering ones too. For a time you saw me as old and doddering… another time as a big fat oblivious buck that was being circled by predators….But how we see each other is seldom the complete truth…." Verity concluded. "But neither is it entirely false…."

"I….er…yes I suppose I um…I'm sorry about that…."

"Don't trouble yourself over it Fitz"

Silence from Verity for a few moments and then, a chuckle from him "…And don't be prickly over how I see you, it's not something I can consciously control.."

"I'm not." I lied, then wondered if lying even worked whilst we were linked . I signed. "I just never thought you viewed me as so..." I searched for the right words "So immature."

"Not immature." Verity corrected. "Young, perhaps. Vulnerable, certainly."

I frowned. "Vulnerable?" I'd survived the Red Ship raids, faced Forged Ones, traveled beyond the Mountain Kingdom, and helped restore Verity to his throne. How could he still see me as vulnerable after all that?

I struggled to reconcile these images with my own self-perception—the hardened assassin, the battle-scarred soldier. To think that Verity, even now, could look at me and see something worth sheltering... something that required protection, rather than something dangerous to be wary of...

"And the wolf pup?" I queried.

A smile twitched at the corner of Verity's mouth. "That's different. That's..." He paused, considering. "That's how I see your heart. Loyal beyond reason, and fierce when threatened. "

That left me mute.

"Shall we try a more focused exercise?" Verity asked, resuming his teaching mantle.

Chapter Text

"Try to project your awareness outward, beyond this tower." Verity's mental voice flowed smoothly through our connection.

I hesitated, uncertain. "Project how far?"

"Start with something familiar. Something you know well." Verity's consciousness pulsed encouragingly against mine. "Buckkeep Bay would be an excellent choice. Picture the harbor clearly in your mind—the ships, the waves, the gulls. Then reach toward it with your Skill."

I conjured the image of the bay as I'd seen it countless times—the deep blue waters, white-capped when the wind blew strong; the forest of masts from fishing boats and merchant vessels; the busy docks where sailors and traders shouted and haggled.

"Good." Verity approved, sharing my mental picture. "Now extend your awareness in that direction. Don't force it. Let your Skill flow like water seeking its level."

I reached outward tentatively, my consciousness slipping along the current Verity maintained. At first, there was only the gentle resistance of distance, but then—

Sudden brightness flooded my senses. Salt spray. The cry of gulls. The creaking of ships at anchor. The slap of waves against wooden hulls.

"I can see it..." I whispered, astonished. "I can hear it. I can smell the sea."

Through my projected awareness, I watched a fishing boat enter the harbor, its deck laden with the morning's catch. Sailors called to one another as they prepared to dock, their voices carried clearly to me across the water. A merchant ship from Bingtown was departing, its sails billowing as it caught the wind.

I let my awareness drift closer to the docks, fascinated by the clarity of perception. I could see individual faces now—a dockhand with a missing front tooth, laughing as he helped secure a mooring line; an elderly woman in a blue shawl haggling over the price of fresh-caught cod; a group of children darting between crates and barrels in some complicated game of tag.

"Try another place" Verity suggested. "Somewhere different this time. Let your mind guide you."

I nodded, still half-immersed in the sensations of the harbor. As I relaxed my focus, allowing my consciousness to drift, I felt a sudden pull—not from Verity, but from within myself. Before I could redirect it, my awareness was flowing rapidly away from Buckkeep, across fields and forests. To a small cottage nestled against the edge of a meadow.

Smoke curled from the dwelling's chimney into the clear afternoon sky. A garden flourished nearby, bursting with fruit and vegetables. There were beehives in neat rows at the end of the garden. And then…

My heart constricted painfully as I saw them. Burrich knelt in the garden, his strong hands working the soil as he showed a little girl how to plant seedlings. Nettle. She was a toddler now, and she watched with solemn concentration, her dark hair pulled into a short braid. Her small fingers mimicked Burrich's movements.

"Gently…" I heard Burrich say. "Plants need soft hands and patience."

Nettle nodded, her face serious with the responsibility. "Like horses?"

Burrich's face creased in a rare smile. "Exactly like the horses."

The cottage door opened, and Molly emerged carrying a water jug. The sunlight caught in her chestnut hair, highlighting the copper strands I remembered so well. She looked... content. The hard edges of Buckkeep had softened from her face. She called something to them, her laughter carrying like petals on the sunny afternoon breeze.

Her belly was round with child.

Burrich's child.

A perfect scene. A family. Complete without me.

I felt Verity's consciousness stir beside mine, registering my pain. Gently, like a parent redirecting a child from danger, he tugged my awareness away from the cottage.

The tower room materialised around me as Verity released the Skill-connection. I blinked, feeling as if I'd left a piece of myself behind with Molly and Nettle….

"Fitz?" Verity asked softly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." I said automatically. Then remembered those words had displeased him earlier, but Verity didn't rebuke me this time.

I swallowed hard and I stared down at my hands. "They seem happy….don't they?"

"They do." Verity agreed simply. He said nothing else, giving me room to process my thoughts.

I got up and started to pace around the room. "Sometimes I wonder if I should go to them. Try to explain. But…" I stopped abruptly. "What could I possibly offer them now? Only danger and more problems...more complications…Molly only ever wanted a simple safe life…"

"There are no simple answers Fitz..." Verity said quietly "...I won't insult you by pretending there are."

My gaze drifted gloomily to the window. The clear day stood in stark contrast to my mood.

"I was wondering…." I began, shame filling me at the request "If perhaps you might... that is... could you arrange to send them some coin? For Nettle's upbringing?" I hurried on before he could answer. "Maybe…Perhaps a royal stipend of some kind. I could do—would do—something to earn it from you of course-"

"—Absolutely not Fitz." Verity said firmly.

I hung my head. Of course. How foolish of me to ask. I had no right to ask for royal funds, no matter how I justified it…

"Yes…of course…I didn't mean to presume…" I trailed off, shamed by how useless I was…I couldn't even provide for my daughter without begging…

This would not do. I needed to find some other way to earn money…but how…could I hire myself out as a mercenary somewhere far from Buck when I was fully healed perhaps? Then I could leave a pouch of coins on their doorstep in middle of the night once a month. Or I could—

"-No Fitz. El's balls boy….That's not what I meant…" Verity interrupted as if sensing my thoughts, his expression shifting from stern to incredulous. "Do you still believe you must perform services to earn coin from me? As if you were some... hired sword? I meant No, as in - No you absoulutely do not have to do anything to 'earn' coin for Nettle…my own grandniece…"

"I… I don't?" I asked confused.

Verity shook his head, disappointment evident in his eyes. "Fitz, we've already tried to send money. Kettricken attempted to establish a regular allowance for the child a while ago, before you restored me. She sent Chade to track them down."

"I….Thankyou Verity" I said quietly. At a loss for any other words.

"Hold your thanks until I've explained all.." Verity sighed "We've tried sending them all sorts, Fitz. Money, gifts, provisions. But Burrich has rejected them all….He has developed a... profound distaste for the Farseer name since your supposed death. He believes we failed you utterly."

"Oh..." I stared at the flagstone floor. "I see."

Guilt at the deception I continued to carry out churned in me, but also the nagging the feeling that the little family really was much happier and safer without me. Still I must try to provide something for them mustn't I? Even Chivalry's bastard had got something after being uprooted and abandoned… an education and roof over his head. I reconsidered my first plan — it now seemed unlikely that Burrich would accept a mysterious bag of coin left on his doorstep…

After a moment of contemplation, I looked up. "Could you…perhaps try something else? Could you send them a letter stating that should they ever need aid, the royal family would willingly provide it?" The words tumbled out quickly again, as though speed might make having to make the request less humilating.

Verity's expression was kind. "I have conveyed something similar before, but yes, I can certainly do so again." He sighed "Though I should warn you…Burrich may simply tear any royal correspondence to pieces before reading it…."

I raised my eyebrows in question.

"The last time Chade ventured to their cottage…" Verity's mouth quirked in a half-smile despite the seriousness of his words "…Burrich threatened rather specific violence against certain parts of his anatomy if he ever returned. Called him a 'manipulative royal bastard who used good men like game pieces.'" Verity shook his head.

"That sounds like Burrich..."

"Indeed." Verity nodded. "The man has never lacked for directness. Or loyalty….He deserved better than what we gave him." The words were soaked in regret. "Many did… But we were at war. Every one of us did what was necessary, including Burrich... And you."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak further on the matter. I felt a lump forming in my throat.

"My king, may I be excused please? I need... I need to rest." I tried to keep the strain from my voice.

Concern creased Verity's brow. "Of course. Are you well enough to go alone? I could assist you."

"No. Thank you." I bowed stiffly, in formal farewell. "I can manage."

I couldn't bear his sympathy a moment longer. If he spoke one more kind word, I feared I'd unravel completely. Better to be alone with my grief than to burden him further.

Verity nodded, his eyes tracking me as I moved to the hidden door. "Rest well, then."

The passage swallowed me, cool darkness closing around my form. I took perhaps twenty paces before my legs simply gave way. I sank against the rough stone wall, sliding down until I sat on the cold floor.

In the perfect darkness, I finally let the tears come.

They fell silently at first, then in great, wracking sobs that shook my entire body. I pressed my fist against my mouth to muffle the sounds, though I was far enough from Verity's tower that he couldn't hear me. This pain was mine alone to bear.

I cried for Molly, for the life we might have had. For Nettle, growing under another man's guidance. For the cottage I'd never share with them. I cried for the emptiness stretching before me—a life with no true place.

You have a pack. It is here. Nighteyes' thought touched my mind, gentle but insistent.

I sighed, drawing my knees up to my chest. We cannot stay here, brother.

Confusion rippled through our bond. Why not? The pack wants you here.

It's not that simple, I replied, resting my forehead against my knees.

You are making it complicated, Nighteyes countered with wolf-logic that cut through my tangled thoughts. Food is plentiful. Den is secure. Pack is strong. What more is needed?

I lifted my head and stared into the darkness of the passage. I can't spend my life living in the walls of Buckkeep like a ghost, Nighteyes.

Why not? His question was genuinely puzzled. The cub needs protecting. The alphas value your hunting skills. The old one seeks your counsel. These are proper pack duties.

I'm not... I struggled to find words that would make sense to him. Humans aren't meant to live this way. Hidden away. Secret. Never acknowledged.

A hint of impatience coloured his thoughts. You humans create strange problems. You worry about things that have no scent or substance.

Perhaps we do. But those problems feel no less real to us.

I wiped my face with my sleeve, drew several deep breaths, and forced myself to stand. Self-pity solved nothing. I had survived worse than this.

After composing myself, I followed the passage back toward my borrowed quarters. As I approached the hidden entrance to my chamber, women's voices drifted through the thin panel.

"...never seen a man eat like that! Three full platters yesterday, and he's requested the same today." The voice was young, amused.

"Well, he needs his strength, doesn't he?" A second voice replied, slightly older, rich with innuendo. "Being king is hard work."

I realised they were talking about Verity. Maids, changing linens by the sound of rustling sheets.

"Being king isn't the only hard thing about him, I'd wager." The younger maid giggled. "Have you seen his arms? When he's in just his shirt sleeves?"

"You're shameless Daisy! But aye, riding the dragons must have changed him. Before he went away, he was starting to look old before his time. Now he's the handsomest man in Buckkeep. Queen Kettricken's a lucky woman."

"I'll say. Can you imagine 'riding' him every night? "

"Daisy!" The other scolded.

I stood still as a statue behind the wall panel, both horrified and curious at the turn of conversation.

"I just say what every woman in Buckkeep is thinking…" Daisy continued boldly. "Including the queen herself, I'd wager." She winked.

"You're going to talk yourself right out of this position." The other maid warned, clucking her tongue.

Daisy was undeterred "I walked past the throne room the other day—middle of the afternoon, mind you—and the doors were bolted from inside." Daisy lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And there were... noises. Moaning. Sounded suspiciously like our royal couple enjoying more than just state business."

"Daisy!" The other maid gasped, but followed it with a giggle.

"Good on the queen, I say! Eda knows when my man came back from the war, I didn't let him out of bed for three days." Daisy sighed. "I understand it perfectly. Just shows Queen Kettricken's a woman like the rest of us, royal or no."

Their laughter rang out, throaty and unrestrained. I was glad when they eventually left, I locked the door from the inside before flopping down on the clean bed. Moments later I drifted off.

Chapter Text

Sleep brought little peace. I dreamt of my nine year old self hiding under a table in the Great Hall, sticky fingers clutching the remnants of a gooseberry tart whilst Shrewd and Regal had talked over me as if I were furniture…

"What will you make of him? "Shrewd had demanded of Regal "A tool? A weapon? A comrade? An enemy? Or will you leave him lying about, for someone else to take up and use against you? Take him now, Regal, and shape him, and a decade hence you will command his loyalty…"

King Shrewd had gone on to catalogue my potential future uses to his once favourite youngest son, like a merchant trying to convince a reluctant buyer to purchase his dubious livestock. "….He could be a henchman, united to the family by spirit as well as blood…"

I awoke with a shudder. Shrewd's words ringing in my head. Something glinted menacingly in the memory, a sharp edge that cut me in a fresh way: the King's tone when he spoke to Regal...as if he'd wished to give me over to my half-uncle. Encouraging Regal to claim me, to mold me...if only he'd have shown interest. The memory left me cold. Why hadn't Shrewd offered me to Verity instead? Verity, would probably have made me his page, and given me some semblance of a normal childhood… Instead, the old King had dangled me before Regal, like some sort of new pet. A disturbing possibility occurred to me—what if Regal had actually had the cunning to say yes? What sort of twisted mutilated thing would I have become then? If I'd lived at all…?

Fortunately Regal had been disgusted with the idea of being anywhere near me, and King Shrewd had had to claim me himself…

I lay in bed trying to get my breathing back under control.

More memories of my life at Buckkeep during the war came to me.

On his deathbed King Shrewd had expressed regret for the harsh path he'd shackled me to as a child…'twisted' me had been the word he'd used….but it was a realisation he'd come to only when dying, not in the years that I'd killed for him, or bled for him. Nothing in his conscience had stirred when I'd taken beatings or had chunks of me bitten out whilst serving him. My loyalty alone had never been enough to rouse any real familial feelings in my grandfather. Perhaps it was only in those last moments when he finally accepted that Regal had betrayed him, did Shrewd question any of his past decisions, including those concerning me and my life… I was likely an afterthought for him…as always…

I exhaled deeply, and tried to turn my mind from thoughts of the past. There was nothing to be done about any of it now anyway. I stared up at the ceiling coming back to the present. I was momentarily confused about why it was so dark... Moonlight spilled into the room and the fire had burned low in the hearth. I realised then I'd slept longer than I meant to. The quality of the darkness told me it was the twilight time before dawn, that nebulous hour when the world holds its breath.

I let my Wit unfurl like a cat stretching from sleep. Nighteyes lay beside my bed, his consciousness a familiar warm pool of slumber, his dreams of rabbits leaking into my awareness. When I extended my wit sense further, I felt Verity and Kettricken in the next chamber. Verity's essense was a solid steady hum and Kettricken's flowed like a clear mountain stream, their dreams felt peaceful. A consciousness like small bright flame burned near them. Dutiful. His infant mind free of worry, nestled safely near his parents.

Feeling their presences close by filled me with a soothing calm. If Nighteyes was awake I knew what he'd say: This is pack.

They all slowly drifted into the background of my awareness as I lay in the dark listening to the sounds of the waves in the distance, and going over the day in my head. The fleeting calm was soon replaced by less settling ruminations:

The memory of Molly and Nettle was an ache in my chest, a wound that wouldn't heal....and Verity was right, there was no simple solution there....

No hope for my heart. I sighed. But took some comfort in the fact that at least my physical body was growing stronger. I could go home soon—after I found Verity's would be assassin of course—the thought cheered me slightly until I pictured returning to my isolated damp cottage in need of many repairs and a gloomy despondency crept over me.

I glanced at Nighteyes, snoring softly by the bed. Would my wolf even want to return with me? He'd found a place here—playing with the prince, roaming the castle grounds with a royal collar, snacking on ginger cakes. Perhaps I'd return alone…

But…

…What if I decided to stay…?

I supposed Chade would be delighted to have his apprentice back in the saddle—and ready to resume my duties as the crown's tool. I scowled… He'd probably see nothing wrong with me living in shadows, emerging only when useful. He'd done it for years himself after all, dwelling in hidden chambers, appearing and disappearing through secret passages. Perhaps he even viewed that sort of existence as a form of normal..?

In a way it was no small wonder that Chade was not stark raving mad, despite all he'd been through... How many decades had he spent hidden away in those secret chambers? When I compared my lonely childhood in the stables to his isolation, it suddenly seemed privileged. At least I'd had the run of Buckkeep, and my friends in town. Chade had had none of that.

I thought of the old man and what little I knew of his boyhood. Chade had once told me he'd been the same age as me when his training began…and from the little tibits I knowledge I'd gained, I gathered Chade's own master had been cold and unkind during his own training.

I considered my mentor in a new light, for all his faults, Chade had never lied to me about our work, had never asked me to do anything he wouldn't do himself, or hadn't done before and —unlike my grandfather— Chade had never sent me to face a danger that he wouldn't have willingly rode down himself. Such had forged a bond between us. There was a fairness in that which I could respect and it made me more forgiving of some of his less appealing behaviours, than I would have been regarding others.

For as much as I'd loved Burrich, I felt he'd always demanded more of me than he had of himself. He had wit bonded with Vixen —albeit reluctantly—but he had forbidden me from acknowledging that same magic within myself.. It had created a distance between us that all my longing for his approval could never quite bridge….

As I thought of Burrich a memory of his gruff voice rumbled through my head: "Best cure for melancholy is to make yourself useful boy. Idle hands breed idle thoughts." I smiled slightly remembering how he would thrust a pitchfork into my hands and set me to work until I was too exhausted to have any thoughts about anything at all.

Setting my ruminations aside, I thought of how I might make myself useful here and now. An assassin still roamed free. If I could Skill to Molly's cottage, surely I could reach August's estate?

I closed my eyes and reached for the skill stream. Without Verity's buffer, it was like plunging hands into thorns. I gritted my teeth against it, trying to visualize August as I'd known him years ago.

Suddenly images flashed chaotically: a rabbit's hut, a high stone wall, the corner of what might have been a bed, a man with voice like oil—None of them clear, none of them connected—then brilliant white light exploded behind my eyes as pain lanced through my head.

I broke contact, collapsing back against the pillows, my breath coming in short bursts as I clutched my head. Nothing useful. Nothing certain. Only pain and fragmented visions that told me nothing about August or his capabilities.

Changer? Nighteyes was awake, pushing his nose in my face with a whine My brother what is wrong? Is the fever back?

I nudged him away as a wave of nausea hit me and. I flung myself to the side of the bed and wretched into the chamber pot. Nighteyes growled as he realised what I'd been doing.

Foolishness! Nighteyes growled, but it was more concern than anger.

I'll be fine in a moment. I sent weakly as I finished emptying the contents of my stomach and collapsed back on the bed.

My skin was hot and clammy and my hands trembled violently. I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to steady the spinning room.

Nighteyes pressed his body against mine, his warmth and doggy scent anchored me back in the present, and helped draw my mind from my pain.

Such magic always makes you ill. You should not use it. My wolf scolded.

Another wave of nausea rolled through me. Sometimes we must do things that hurt us to protect those we care for. I tried to explain. My breathing gradually steadied as the worst of the pain ebbed. I need to use it to help keep Verity and our pack safe.

Nighteyes curled tighter against me, his muzzle tucked against my neck. He gave my chin a lick. The pack is strong without you using magic that makes you weak.

How could I explain the treachery of court to a wolf? There is a man—August—who might wish Verity harm. He once had skill-magic too but lost it. I think he might have it again. I tried to send Nighteyes images of August, who he was, and what it meant, but I think it only confused him further.

Nighteyes snorted softly. If he is broken and lame, how could such an outcast threaten our pack?

People aren't always what they appear, I explained, struggling to find comparisons a wolf would understand. Sometimes the weakest-looking deer is the one that will suddenly charge. Besides, if he has the Skill again, his body's weakness doesn't matter.

Nighteyes remained unconvinced. If he is a threat, we can hunt him. As wolves do. No need for magic that sickens you. You slept for a long time before you awoke. The the old one and the alphas checked on you twice…The using the magic weakens you…he insisted.

I sighed, giving up the attempt to explain court intrigue to a creature who saw the world in such straightforward terms. I sat up with a wince, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

"I need some fresh air." The room felt suddenly claustrophobic, the stone walls pressing in around me. My head still throbbed faintly from the failed Skill attempt.

Nighteyes watched me with solemn golden eyes that gleamed in the darkness. You should rest more brother….

"I've rested enough…" I muttered, rising on unsteady legs. I made my way to the window, and flung the shutters open. The cool night air rushed in, carrying with it a collection of scents: salt and sea from the harbour below, woodsmoke from cooking fires, horses in the stables, and beyond it all, birch and pine and deer and other scents which made up the the vast wildness of the forest that hugged the walls of the keep.

I filled my lungs with it all, feeling my senses sharpen as the lingering fog of pain receded. The moon hung low over the water, casting a silver path across the waves. Stars crowded the sky, brilliant and clear in the darkness.

Unconsciously, I found myself thinking it would be a fine night for a hunt. The forest would be alive with movement, creatures taking advantage of the bright moonlight. I could almost taste the freedom of it—running with Nighteyes at my side, following the scent of prey.

That's the most sense you've spoken in a long time, Nighteyes commented, his tail swishing against the bedcovers. He rose and stretched. Too much stone and smoke in here. Lets go!

I found myself smiling despite everything. The wolf's simple joy in the prospect of a hunt was infectious.

Yes. Let's.

I dressed quickly in the darkness, selecting the least conspicuous of my new garments, and pulling the hood up. Through our bond, I felt Nighteyes' anticipation. He'd been patient with my confinement, but a wolf's nature yearns for open spaces.

The forest smells of rabbit. The thought came laden with images—damp earth, the spice of needles underfoot, the tang of prey.

We'll find one, I promised, buckling my belt.

I grabbed some bread, cheese and fruit from the platter that the maids had left by on the table yesterday afternoon, and quickly gobbled it down, feeling my strength returning with each bite. I certainly couldn't complain about the hospitality at Buckkeep…. I washed it all down with a tankard of spring water, before heading out the secret door.

Chapter Text

The secret corridors were still a maze to me, but Nighteyes had spent days exploring, and led me with confidence as we descended several flights of narrow stairs. Eventually, my wolf stopped before what appeared to be a blank wall.

Push there. He nudged my leg with his nose, directing me to an ordinary looking stone near my foot. I did as asked, and it clicked into the floor. A section of the wall swung inward, revealing a low opening barely large enough for a man to crawl through. Beyond it lay darkness, but I could sense the freshness of the air.

Smell that? Nighteyes quivered with excitement. Forest. Rabbit!

I dropped to my hands and knees, following him through the cramped passage. After several yards of crawling, we emerged behind a large boulder, the castle walls visible some distance behind us. Dawn was just breaking, painting the eastern sky with the first pink streaks of light.

For a moment, I considered whether I should leave a note for anyone. Then I dismissed the thought—we'd be back before breakfast. A quick hunt with Nighteyes, nothing more…

The dewy grass soaked my boots as we moved swiftly toward the tree line. Once beneath the canopy of the forest, I felt my spirits lift. The familiar smells of pine and birch filled my lungs, and the soft cushion of fallen needles beneath my feet welcomed me like an old friend.

This is living brother—not being shut away in stone rooms, discussing schemes. Nighteyes enthused. He bounded ahead, then circled back, his joy infectious. I took a deep breath of forest air and felt more alive than I had in days.

I'll go ahead. Nighteyes told me. Scout for any signs of humans. You follow when I say it's safe.

I nodded. Of course, it would not be good for me to be seen.

Nighteyes slipped away, a gray shadow melting into the forest's darkness. Through our bond, I felt his exhilaration at being free to run, to hunt, to be what he was meant to be. I envied him that certainty of purpose. I crouched and waited where I was, hiding myself in the dense undergrowth of ferns.

The minutes stretched. I reached again for Nighteyes with the Wit, finding him moving swiftly uphill, toward a ridge that overlooked much of the surrounding countryside.

Come, he invited. See through my eyes.

I closed my own eyes and slipped into his consciousness. The world transformed—sharper, richer with scents. He stood on an outcropping of rock, the forest falling away below him.

Buckkeep Castle stood dark and imposing against the lightening sky. Beyond it, the ocean stretched endlessly, its surface catching the first glimmers of dawn. Mist clung to hollows and valleys, obscuring parts of the landscape like islands in a white sea.

Listen, Nighteyes instructed.

His ears swiveled, capturing sounds I could never have detected on my own. Downwind, the unsteady footfalls of a man stumbling through the underbrush reached us. His scent, and the occasional curse and hiccup identified him as a guard returning from a night of overindulgence, now weaving his way home before his absence was noted.

Upwind, the only human presence was a solitary figure at the forest's edge. An elderly woman, gathering fallen branches into a bundle to tend their fire.

No danger, Nighteyes concluded. No one searching for you.

Satisfied I moved to join him.

The hunt was successful, I was not as useful as I might have been before my injury but I helped heard two rabbits towards Nighteyes. Sunrise found him replete and myself replenished by the energy of the hunt.

My wolf trotted beside me as we made our way back toward the castle, occasionally veering off to investigate interesting scents. My wound ached dully from the exertion, but the pain was worth the freedom we'd tasted.

We passed through a clearing where sunlight dappled the forest floor. At its edge stood an ancient elf tree, its pale bark gleaming against the dark foliage surrounding it. I paused, drawn to it involuntarily.

I approached the tree slowly, running my fingers over its smooth surface. With my belt knife, I could harvest enough to brew a tea that would dull the pain when I next tried reaching for August with the Skill…Just a small amount…

As I drew my knife, Nighteyes growled deep in his throat. With a predator's swiftness, he caught my wrist firmly between his jaws. His teeth didn't break skin, but his displeasure was clear.

No. he sent forcefully. The Alpha and the old one both say no. It is a poison!

I tried to pull away, but he held fast.

"Nighteyes, let go." I said aloud. "I know what I'm doing."

He released my wrist but positioned himself between me and the tree, hackles raised.

It makes your mind muddled, and your thoughts dark. He growled

"I'm only going to take a small amount this time. Not as much as I was taking before…" I insisted. "It's for the good of the pack."

Nighteyes ears flattened, scepticism radiating through our bond.

To track the outcast? He demanded.

"Yes."

The Alpha doesn't think the outcast is a threat. You do. Nighteyes insisted stubbornly.

"Because I understand things about people Verity doesn't want to see." I took a step toward the tree, but Nighteyes growled again and snapped at my hand. "Sometimes I can't explain all the ways of humans to you!" I huffed becoming annoyed "This is just something I need to do."

You cannot explain because it makes no sense! he countered, standing his ground.

Frustration was building in me. "Listen to me. Verity and Chade are exaggerating the dangers of Elfbark. They're…they're…." I struggled to form my feelings into a logical argument, before finally settling on a word that seemed to fit "They're confused by it" I said trying to explain my own thoughts as I spoke. I still did not believe Elf Bark could be all that dangerous "Perhaps it's harmful to some skill users….or children…but it can't be so for all skilled ones…They said too much elfbark dulls the Skill, but it didn't stop Verity skilling during the Red Ship Wars—It didn't stop me either. It just took away the headaches." I ran a hand through my hair. "Look this isn't about what I want anyway…. It's about what needs to be done."

Nighteyes remained unmoved, his golden eyes bored disapprovingly into mine.

I tried another tactic "If I don't do this our pack-leader could die. Do you understand that? Maybe others, too. Even the cub." Using Dutiful was perhaps unfair leverage, but it could be true. "August is like a snake. He might seem harmless, lying still as if dead, but that's when he's most dangerous. That's when he strikes."

Nighteyes' eyes swiveled uncertainly between the elf tree and me, horror at the idea of a cub killer emanating from him.

The pack-leader is strong… He wavered

"Even the strongest alpha can be taken down by a hidden enemy."

I felt his reluctance give way. With a something between a whine and a growl that clearly expressed his disapproval, Nighteyes stalked aside. I still do not like this Changer.

I carefully cut away several strips of bark, storing them inside my jerkin. The work took only minutes, but my wolf's judgemental glare made it feel much longer.

The sun was well on its ascent when we finally approached the boulder that concealed the secret entrance. I felt a mixture of guilt and satisfaction as we reached it. The guilt was for defying Verity and Nighteyes' wishes; the satisfaction for having taken matters into my own hands.

I dropped to my knees beside the boulder, feeling for the crack that would reveal the hidden passage. My fingers traced the rough surface of the rock, searching for the telltale seam.

I couldn't find it.

"It has to be here…" I muttered, crawling around the boulder's perimeter. My wound throbbed as I stretched to reach higher portions of the rock. "We came out this way."

Sweat began to bead on my forehead. I forced myself to remain calm.

Nighteyes circled anxiously, sniffing at the ground and rock face.

No opening…

I sat back on my haunches, panic fluttered in my gut. "It must only open from the inside." The sun was up now, and Buckkeep would be stirring to life. Guards would be changing shifts, servants beginning their daily chores. Soon the paths and training yards would be filled with people who might recognize me.

"I'm supposed to be dead…" I whispered, more to myself than to Nighteyes. "If anyone sees me..."

I will find elder-sister and tell her you are trapped outside the den. Nighteyes offered.

The thought of Nighteyes running through Buckkeep Castle to find the Queen, made me both anxious and oddly embarrassed. What would Kettricken think of me, sneaking out like a disobedient child only to get locked out? But what choice did I have?

"Alright." I conceded. "But be careful. Go straight to Kettricken or Verity, don't dally"

I am not stupid Changer… Nighteyes sent, with an expression that was almost a wolfish eye roll. But he bumped his head against my leg reassuringly before racing away. Hide well, brother.

Chapter Text

I retreated deeper into the undergrowth, finding a dense thicket where I could observe the boulder while remaining concealed. Distant sounds from the castle carried on the morning air, reminding me how exposed I was. Time crawled by. Every snapping twig made me tense.

I think nearly a third of an hour had passed, when, I heard a voice that made my heart stop.

"The nerve of those Chalcedean merchants!" Lady Patience's irritated tone rang through the forest "Did you see how that ambassador's wife cowered when her husband raised his voice?"

"Shocking behavior, my lady." Lacey's softer one followed. "Though I suppose we shouldn't be surprised. The Chalcedeans have always been-"

"-Barbarians!" Patience cut in. "Absolute barbarians! Thank Eda we arrived yesterday afternoon instead of witnessing more of their deplorable conduct."

I pressed myself lower into the thicket as their footsteps approached. Through the leaves, I caught glimpses of Patience's familiar purple traveling dress and Lacey's neat brown skirts.

"Oh, look at this fascinating specimen!" Patience's voice grew excited. "Lacey, come see this mushroom. The cap formation is extraordinary."

My heart hammered as her footsteps stopped paces from my hiding place. I held my breath, willing myself invisible as she crouched down.

"Careful, my lady. You don't know if it's poisonous."

"Nonsense. It's clearly a variety of wood ear. Perfectly safe." Patience's voice was closer now, almost directly above me. "Though I wonder... no, the gills are wrong."

After what felt like an eternity, she straightened with a rustle of skirts.

"Lacey, you mustn't breathe a word of this to anyone, but I'm terribly worried about our dear Kettricken."

"About the pregnancy, my lady?"

"Shh!" Patience's voice dropped to an urgent whisper. "She hasn't even told Verity yet. Poor thing is terrified of losing another child so early, especially after what happened before Dutiful. She's barely three moons along…"

A warmth spread through my chest at their words. Another child for Verity and Kettricken… I found myself silently offering a prayer to Eda that this babe would be hale and hearty, and that Kettricken would carry it safely into the world. The thought of a new little cousin stirred something wolfishly protective in me. Another member of the pack to guard and cherish.

But I noticed too that there was a note of sadness in Patience's voice as she'd spoke….and perhaps a remembrance of her own difficulties birthing a child.

"Perhaps the Queen should tell His Majesty soon." Lacey said gently, I sensed her attempt to guide Patience away from sad memories and was grateful for it "He might notice her morning sickness."

"Yes. That's precisely what I told her yesterday, but she's determined to wait until she's certain this one will hold."

"Well," Patience said, her voice growing fainter as she moved away from my hiding spot "I suppose we should return before they send search parties. Though I do hope those dreadful Chalcedeans don't spoil brunch with their crude manners!"

"Indeed, my lady."

Their footsteps receded toward the castle, Patience's voice trailing off as she launched into another complaint about diplomatic protocol.

I remained motionless in my thicket, until the forest settled back into its natural rhythms and Patience and Lacey's voices faded completely. Birds resumed their morning songs, and somewhere in the distance, a squirrel chattered at an intruder in its territory. I allowed myself to stretch slightly within my cramped hiding place, working feeling back into my legs.

Then, like distant thunder rolling across my mind, I felt Verity's Skill reaching for me.

Fitz? Where are you?

Outside the castle, I admitted, feeling a bit sheepish. I hoped he wasn't too annoyed with me. I could read no emotion from his controlled skilling. Near the boulder entrance to the secret passage. The one that opens behind the southern wall.

Can you Skill back without pain?

I felt him easing the tightness in my skull that had begun to build at his contact. Then he adjusted something within our connection, a subtle support that reduced the effort that I had to make.

Yes... thank you. I pushed my thoughts toward him. Nighteyes and I just went for a morning hunt. I needed fresh air. But the passage only opens from inside.

A morning hunt. Verity's mental voice was dry. Without telling anyone where you were going? He let his exasperation with me seep through the link

I felt like a foolish boy caught stealing sweets from the kitchen.

I didn't think I'd be gone long enough for anyone to notice.. I offered rather lamely.

I tried my best to mentally shield my earlier plans regarding August and the elfbark now secreted inside my jerkin. Mercifully it seemed to work.

Chade checked on you earlier Verity explained, and finding you missing has apparently been wandering the secret passages for the better part of an hour searching for you... A hint of humor colored his thoughts. Of course he simply could have come straight to me and I would have skilled to you….but like you, that one wants to solve every problem alone…This is what I mean when I say you and Chade are a pair… Well…Chade finally decided to come to me at the same moment your wolf came bounding into the court's breakfast in the great hall.

I winced. I'm sorry.

The image of Nighteyes bursting into the formal breakfast, causing chaos among the courtiers, made me cringe with embarrassment. I just... needed to be outside for a while. I tried to explain

Verity's understanding flowed through our link. I understand the need for freedom, Fitz, but wandering alone in the woods with an assassin potentially targeting the royal family isn't wise. Especially in your condition. Please try and consider such things before you act. I would like my nephew around and healthy for many years to come.

Yes my king. I sent back contritely. I didn't think it wise to argue the point that I wasn't alone….I had Nighteyes.

I've sent Chade is coming down to open the passage for you. He should be there shortly. And Fitz? Verity's presence in my mind began to recede gently, like tide water pulling back from shore.

Yes?

I'm glad you're safe.

With that, the connection faded completely, leaving me alone in my head once more.

I settled against the roots of a large oak to wait for Chade, absently rubbing the tender area around my healing wound.

The forest remained quiet around me, birds calling to one another overhead while I tried not to think about the chaos I'd caused.

A soft scraping drew my attention to the boulder. It shifted slightly, revealing the dark mouth of the passage beyond. Chade's hand appeared first, followed by his face, eyes narrowed against the morning light. He radiated irritation.

"In." He hissed, glancing around warily. "Now."

Chapter Text

I slipped into the opening, and Chade hastily sealed it. We crawled together down the passage until the ceiling was high enough that we could both stand again. Then Chade spun on me glaring.

"I've been all over this cursed castle looking for you!" He snapped, cobwebs clung to his shoulders and silver hair, grey dust streaked his face and clothes. "I thought your fever had returned and you'd collapsed in some dark corner somewhere! Or some castle guard had found you outside Verity's chamber and either run you through-or locked you in a cell! Or even that you'd got it into your thick skull to pick yourself up disappear off into the middle of nowhere like you did in the Mountains! This is not the time for an unannounced morning stroll!"

Despite Chade's tirade, I felt unexpectedly touched that he had worked himself into such a disheveled state on my behalf.

"Why are you grinning like a simpleton?" Chade demanded of me, eyes narrowed into slits like a puffed up cat.

"I didn't know you'd miss me that much, old man…" I jested. "Thought you might be glad to say good riddance to me and all the troubles I bring your way"

Chade gave me an odd look, his eyes narrowing as he scowled. The humour I'd intended fell flat between us.

"That is not funny boy." He said quietly, his voice carrying something I hadn't expected. "Not in the slightest."

The cutting look he sent me made me look away first. He'd genuinely been worried about me.

"What did you expect? That on finding you gone, I'd simply shrug and continue with my morning? What do you take me for? Only yesterday you were sleeping so deeply I thought you were in some kind of coma!"

I blinked in surprise. "Did you try to wake me? I don't remember that... I was just exhausted from the Skill session with Verity. Sometimes using it drains me completely…."

Disgruntled, Chade straightened his robe muttering "There's still too much about the Skill that I don't understand….Years of study, and it remains beyond my grasp in so many ways…" He sighed with a deep regret "Verity seemed to think you just needed rest. And Kettricken-" he gave a short bark of a laugh "-she said that if you were truly in danger, your wolf would have been more concerned…."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "She's right." Still, I was surprised they had all checked on me, and I hadn't even stirred.

"Using a wolf's behaviour to determine a human's health seems questionable to me at best.." Chade grumbled. "But that's what we all did, waited to see if the beast would alert us." He shook his head. "I know far too little about the Wit as well. While you're recuperating, you should make yourself useful and write down everything you know about it for the private library. Future generations might need that knowledge."

I considered that. Such knowledge would have been useful to for me to read growing up….But I also didn't want risk such information falling to those who might use it to persecute others. Chade seemed to take my lack of objection as assent and began making his way up the stairs. I followed.

“I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” I offered, by way of an apology. Sensing Chade had not completely forgiven me yet.

“What you mean to happen and what actually happens often have a gulf in them boy...!" Chade muttered grumpily "And have you already forgotten what I told you yesterday? About not distracting the king? Verity can't be worrying about you wandering off like an unattended child. Sending out Skill searches and receiving wolves in the middle of breakfast negotiations!"

I scowled at his tone, but said nothing. I decided to change the subject before his lecture gained momentum. "I tried to Skill to August earlier."

That stopped him. He turned and looked at me. "And?"

"The pain was too much. I couldn't maintain the connection... I… need something for afterward…"

Chade raised an eyebrow. "Something?"

"Elfbark. The after pain would be unbearable otherwise…"

His expression cooled. "Verity said-"

"-I know what Verity said." I cut in. "But he doesn't understand what it's like for me. He can dampen my pain when he skills alongside me… but on own…My headaches are..." I searched for words that could adequately describe the sensation. "It's like being stabbed through the skull with a white-hot blade.…. It brings on a seizure…I need just enough bark to take the edge off. " I reached inside my jerkin and produced the strips of elfbark I'd gathered earlier.

Chade looked over it disapprovingly "Where did you find that?"

"In the woods."

"So that's what this morning's stroll was about?"

"No." I said somewhat defensive "I just happened across it…Look I just need a place to brew it without Verity finding out. Can I use your workshop?"

I was surprised by the conflict that warred on Chade's face. I hadn't expected him to need this much convincing…He frowned in thought for such a long time I thought he would refuse me, and that annoyed me. What was there to consider? The king was in danger. Just when I was about to demand an answer, Chade spoke "Are you…certain you can't skill without needing it after? Could you not…try again without it? I could be there to-"

"No Chade! The pain is too much! I thought you wished to uncover this threat as much as I did? I need it Chade. And we work to protect the king. Why this…this indecision?" I spoke perhaps too bluntly to my old mentor, but I found his dithering not just frustrating, but worrying… If Chade did not help me, my plan would be considerably more difficult to implement.

Chade sighed heavily "Half-truths are one thing, boy...…I've built my life on careful omissions and selective revelations….. But keeping outright secrets from a King you serve is something else entirely…." the frown on his face deepened. "Tell me truthfully, is this dangerous for you….? Skilling into August's mind?"

I hesitated. Oddly, that wasn't a question I'd given much consideration. It was just a thing that had to be done. "I…suppose I don't really know…. I don't think so…Unless…maybe…well unless he senses my presence perhaps…"

"And what are the odds of that happening?" Chade pressed.

"I don't know that either." I felt suddenly foolish, like boy called on in a lesson to answer a question on a subject he hadn't been paying attention to. I decided to answer honestly "I've never really tried to Skill into someone who might have been trained to detect it…." Galen's coterie had hunted me through the skill….but I had never dared hunt any of them that way… "But I think I can manage it…Verity did it often enough.." I said at last. "Skilled into the minds of the Red Ship Raiders to confuse them."

Chade looked skeptical "They weren't former coterie members…. And as I understand they had no Skill training or defenses of their own." Chade stroked his beard pensively again "I don't believe this a thing you should attempt alone.." he declared. "When you Skill observe August, and when you take that elfbark, I want to be present."

"Why?" I asked puzzled. "What difference does it make if you're there?"

Chade shook his head "Boy, you rush headlong into danger without pausing to consider the consequences. What if you collapse? What if August's defenses are stronger than you anticipate and he counter attacks? " Chade's voice grew sharper with each question. "Who will pull you back if something goes wrong? What if the elfbark interacts poorly with whatever poison remnants still linger in your body? Or with the healing herbs Kettricken has been dosing you with? Who will fetch help if that elfbark causes you to stop breathing?"

I hadn't considered any of that.

"Boy, you need to learn to consider situations more deeply instead of just rushing into them…" he said, his voice taking on a lecturing tone I'd heard since childhood. "Think through consequences. Consider alternatives. Plan for failure. These are basic principles I've tried to teach you for years."

I let out a harsh laugh. "That's rather rich coming from you, isn't it? How many times did you send me into potentially fatal situations without blinking an eye?"

Chade bristled. "I never sent you anywhere without thorough planning and days-if not months-of background work. I didn't just randomly dispatch you into danger on a whim! Every mission I sent you on was carefully prepared." Chade rebuked me as though I had deeply insulted him. Just as I began to feel bad for my misjudgement of his character, he spoke again "Besides..." Chade continued "Your position has changed. As one of only two known Skill users left in the Six Duchies, your significance on the game board has shifted dramatically…and your value to the Kingdom has increased exponentially" he state bluntly.

His cold assessment of my worth should have bothered me more than it did. Instead, I found myself appreciating his honesty. It seemed impossible for Chade to untangle his care for me as a person, with my function in his larger strategies.

I realised his concern for me and his calculation of my usefulness weren't separate things—they were woven together so tightly that even he couldn't separate them…It reminded me sharply of the Fool, who had looked at me much the same way, torn between affection for who I was, and fascination with what I represented.

Would the Fool have helped me so many times if I'd been just FitzChivalry the bastard, rather than the Catalyst he'd needed? The question gnawed at me. How many of those rescues, those moments when he'd pulled me back from death's edge, had been motivated by care for me as a person versus his desperate desire to change the future?

Perhaps this was simply how it would always be for me. Perhaps what I was would always matter more than who I was….

"Fine." I said quietly. "You can be present when I take the elfbark and Skill to August."

Chade nodded, apparently satisfied that he'd made his point about planning and caution. But I wasn't thinking about August anymore. I was thinking about the weight of being useful, and how many of the people I'd loved-if any-had ever found me worthy of care simply for being myself, rather than how I could be of use to them.

"…I have another condition." Chade announced as we reached Verity's Chamber door.

"…If you take the elfbark, you must promise to confess to Verity soon afterward." He held up a bony finger to stop my interruption. "Only after you've taken it, mind you, and preferably after you've discovered something useful about August…." Chade's eyes came alive with the familiar light they had when crafting a strategy as he warmed to his own idea. "Yes, that may work I think: Present Verity with both your disobedience and its fruits simultaneously. He'll be angry, certainly, but if you've uncovered vital information about the threat against him...Well…I find kings are more forgiving of insubordination when it produces results they need."

"And if I discover nothing useful about August?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

I nodded slowly.

"Good." Chade turned to leave muttering under his breath "Though Eda knows this whole escapade won't do much for his opinion of me…."

"What…?"

Chade turned back, his eyes distant for a moment, the careful mask he always wore slipped slightly. "…Shrewd and I…we saw problems the same way… valued the same solutions… But Verity…" Chade's brow furrowed and he trailed off, seeming to reconsider saying the words he'd began.

"But Verity…?" I repeated, hoping to prompt Chade into confessing more. Unfortunately my question had the opposite effect. It seemed to bring him to himself and he gave his head a short irritated shake, embarrassed for the slip. I saw the cogs in Chade's mind turn and he amended whatever he was originally going to say.

"But Verity is King, and I spoke carelessly." Chade stated flatly, mask firmly back in place "This is not a thing you need concern yourself with boy. Come to my workshop tonight after you've eaten dinner, and we'll attempt your plan.

Oh by the way, Verity will be waiting for you at noon in his tower for another Skill session. He's arranged for these to happen daily while you're at Buckkeep. The maids will be in your rooms again at noon to clean, tidy and bring a meal, whilst you're away. I've arranged two particularly unobservant ones for the duty. These two have their mind more on gossip than their tasks….Even so, try not to make it too obvious someone other than King is sleeping there…and don't leave anything personal strewn about"

I nodded.

"Your time is your own until noon" His tone grew terser. "And no more wandering off without warning. Understood?"

Inside, I rankled at the order—I wasn't a child to be monitored—but I already promised the same to Verity, so I complied with Chade's wish. "Understood." I muttered.

Chapter Text

I filled the few hours between returning to my chamber and noon, by breakfasting and bathing.

Another platter had been left whist I'd been in the woods. This one consisted of porridge topped with stewed dates and honey. Several rashers of gammon, poached duck eggs with chives, and a particularly tasty savoury roll stuffed with sheep's cheese, nasturtiums and dandelion leaves. I ate it all ravenously, thinking how much I would miss Buckkeep fare when I eventually returned to my cabin.

In the baths I saw my wound was better still. It was tender, and tiredness plagued me, but didn't pain me much if I didn't exert myself.

Finally cleaned washed and presentable, I presented myself at Verity's tower.

I emerged from the tunnel to find Verity standing by the window, silhouetted against the midday sky. He turned to me as soon as I entered the room.

"Fitz!" Verity greeted warmly.

"Uncle" The word came easier now, though it still felt strange on my tongue.

Verity beamed at me. "You look better rested this morning than yesterday. Are you well?"

"Well enough my king"

"Good. Shall we start?" Verity asked gesturing to the bright rug and cushions we had sat on yesterday.

I took my seat, while Verity plumped his cushion before sitting on it. I suddenly began to wonder if this was a bad idea. While I trusted Verity to honour his promise not to intrude into my thoughts, I worried my own mind could betray me... One careless mental shout during our practice, one stray thought about August or my plans, and everything would spill forth.

"Everything is truly alright?" Verity's asked cutting into my ruminations. "You're frowning."

"What?" I looked at him startled. Had he picked up my thoughts already?

"You slept a long time after our skill session yesterday…which is not bad thing….I want you to rest if you are tired….But I don't want to exhaust you with another session if you're still recovering…we can use this time to do something else if you prefer? Until you feel stronger?"

I thought about it "If my king doesn't mind…" I said hesitantly "I would be grateful for the rest today…. I…I'm not quite myself."

I felt guilty for the half truth, but Verity's face brightened with approval. "I'm glad to hear you admit it, Fitz. I was worried you might push yourself with these skill sessions until you collapsed." He leaned forward, and patted my shoulder. "It takes wisdom to know when to rest."

I looked down and nodded mutely. Feeling even more guilty about the unearned praise he'd bestowed.

"What would you prefer to do in our time today instead of skilling?" Verity asked.

"Oh… um…well.." The question put me off kilter. I had been expecting Verity to select the alternate activity for us "…I don't know really…Are you sure you'd not rather return downstairs…?"

Verity waved his hand dismissively, settling down on his cushion. "My ministers can survive for an hour without me. So what's it to be Fitz?"

"Oh…" I said again rather lamely, still unsure how to proceed when not being directed. It was strange to be offered choices rather than orders. Especially by a King. I found myself at a loss.

I scanned the room for inspiration. My eyes settled on the collection of smoothly carved stones sitting on a cloth board near the window. "We could play a game of stones if it please you my King?" I suggested.

Verity smiled. "An excellent choice."

We moved to the table and Verity set up the board. Chatting congenially to me about Dutiful and some other news from the Mountain Kingdom, before enquiring about my wound and if I'd had enough to eat, I assured him all was well on both counts. As we sat I quietly pondered if there was some way I could ask Verity for some advice on how to skill without being detected without arousing suspicion in him.

"Your move first" Verity said, gesturing to the board.

I placed my first stone. "I've been wondering about something from the war," I began casually as I could, moving a dark stone into position. "When you Skilled to the Red Ships, did they ever sense you watching them?"

Verity studied the board before making his move. "No. They couldn't detect me. Why do you ask?"

"Could you teach me that?" I placed another stone "To observe without being noticed?"

Verity's eyes narrowed slightly. "Teach you to spy on people's thoughts you mean?"

I fumbled with my next stone, nearly dropping it. "N-no…not spy…"

Verity's gaze remained steady on me, waiting.

"I just wondered about the technique itself…" I said, focusing intently on the board to avoid his eyes. " I thought... well, if I'm going to be practicing the Skill again, I should understand the technique so I can protect myself from it…..."

"Someone specific you're concerned about, Fitz?"

"No, just...intellectual curiosity"

"…mmmm.." Verity's eyes lingered on me longer than necessary before he returned his attention to the game. He made his move, capturing three of my stones in a deft move that I should have anticipated.

"The technique you're asking about.." Verity began whilst he gathered up my stones "… requires tremendous finesse….and you skill rather like you're swinging a battle axe at the moment Fitz… You would first need to learn to restrain your presence entirely, pulling your Skill-self in tight like drawing a cloak around yourself. Then you extend the smallest possible tendril of awareness. It's delicate work, like touching a soap bubble without breaking it. It's not at all like watching common folk go about their daily business…" He looked directly at me, seeming to see too much. "I don't think you're quite ready for that just now. Do you agree?"

I swallowed involuntarily and gave a quick nod and took my turn. A hasty movement that I immediately regretted, in much the same way I regretted starting the current topic. I decided to change it.

Verity looked at the board baffled by my odd choice of placement.

"Have you considered forming another coterie?" I blurted out.

Verity looked up surprised. "A coterie? Have you and Chade been chattering again?" He raised an eyebrow looking unimpressed. "My last one tried to kill me, if you recall. Not to mention you. I've little appetite for repeating the experience..."

"Yes, of course," I muttered. "Forgive me." I tried to think of a more pleasant topic for us.

Verity picked up his stone but he didn't immediately place it. Instead, he continued watching me with a look I couldn't decipher. His fingers tapped thoughtfully against the table's edge.

"Though I might reconsider my opinion…." he said finally "If you were to form a coterie for me, nephew."

The suggestion startled me so completely that I was unable to respond at first.

"Me?" I finally managed. "I'm barely able to control my own Skill, let alone teach others…. "

Chapter Text

Verity chuckled. "You needn't look so horrified, Fitz. It was more a passing thought than a royal command."

"Beg pardon…" I stammered. "I just—I don't think I could ever-"

"-Peace, Fitz." Verity raised a hand. "I simply meant that I couldn't see myself trusting any other Skill user more than you. But I have no intention of forcing any position upon you."

Verity's attention returned to the game board, he sighed with regret "In any case, I have no idea where we would even locate healthy Skill users. Many were killed or disappeared during the Red Ship Wars. The others known to us went mad when Regal misused them..." His voice hardened at the mention of his half brother's name.

"Perhaps you might look further afield? The Mountain Kingdom, perhaps? The Skill is Farseer magic, but similar abilities might exist amongst Kettricken's people….?"

Verity stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That's not a bad idea, Fitz… he placed his stone on the board, and smiled at me "It's good to have you around to talk such things over with, you have a gift for seeing problems from different perspectives.….I don't think I've ever asked….but do you miss the Mountain Kingdom?"

I looked at him, puzzled. "...Miss it my King?"

"It was the land of your birth…Before you came to Buckkeep…?"

I frowned "..I...I don't think of it as such my King…I can't remember much of my childhood before Buck" I said with a shrug "…and I regard myself only as a Buckman my lord, not as a Chyurdan." I added the last, a little miffed that I had to remind Verity of all people where my allegiances lay…

"Of course….but I do not believe one need negate the other. I only need look to my Queen for proof of that" Verity replied evenly "…Fitz, I don't know if anyone ever told you this, but when Chivalry first discovered your existence, he never intended for you to come to Buckkeep at all. His plan was to foster you with Prince Rurisk in Jhaampe."

"He…What?" 

"Chiv never wanted to tear you from your home or your mother…" Verity continued softly. "He wanted to protect you both, to give you a chance at a life where you might have grown up in peace……I suppose I thought someone —perhaps my father—would have told you this story……"

I shook my head numbly.

"Chiv arranged everything soon after you first arrived at Moonseye. You were to be sent to the palace at Jhaampe, away from court politics and the dangers of being his bastard.…he planned a place for your mother too, he thought she could go with you, disguised as a nursemaid or a palace worker..."

Shock turned to a tight painful sensation in my throat. "Why didn't this plan…" I started quietly then stopped, unable to complete the question. A life I might have had stretched before me in my imagination….One with my mother, free of death and secrets and shadows…one with more freedom.

Verity sighed deeply. "My father... didn't agree with it." His voice carried a rare hint of criticism toward the old King. "He didn't want an illegitimate Farseer growing up so far away from his influence…or…. growing up under the influence of another noble family."

"And Chivalry just... accepted that?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice.

"No. Not without a fight…...Chiv argued fiercely with Father, he came to Buckkeep for the last time, when everyone got back from Moonseye. I remember him shouting that you were six years old and hardly spoke the Six Duchies tongue. He said it was cruel to drag a child so far from everything he knew….But in the end…well…even a prince must bow to a king."

A fragment of Verity's words echoed in my skull: hardly spoke the Six Duchies tongue… " Could I not speak common?"

"Not much by all accounts." Verity said with a shrug "You spoke with a heavy accent when I first asked your name. For a while I even wondered if you'd properly understood what I'd asked…"

Verity looked at me expectantly then, as if he thought I would contribute something to the pause. When I continued staring at him, he at last sighed, a bit sadly. "Well I suppose… I would have been silent too if I could not speak the language well….Still you didn't seem to show much inclination to want to learn…On your first meeting King Shrewd thought you were a mute…though I assured him you were not, and said I thought you simply a bit shaken by being taken from your mother…." Verity eyes were full of sympathy. "Chivalry was... very unhappy about it all."

"Burrich used to complain about how quiet I was…" I murmured, remembering. "I…" I began slowly "…I remember understanding things, but not always having the right words to reply. I thought..." I closed my eyes, overwhelmed as my earliest memories reshuffled themselves into this new context. "I think… I used the Wit to understand people when I first came to Buckkeep…" I said the realization dawning as I spoke. "When I couldn't follow the words, I could sense what they meant, what they felt like, the shape of them...."

I scratched my head taking this new information in. Six years speaking a different language…my native Chyurdan….I'd learned the language of animals before I'd fully relearned the language of men. "Burrich thought I was being willfully stubborn when I wouldn't speak. But I think I was... translating most things through emotions and intentions rather than actual words." I rubbed my temple, fragments of memory surfacing

"That would explain much….Fitz have you ever thought about finding your mother again?"

Verity's question startled me. Stirring ghosts in the murky depths of my mind that I'd long avoided.

"I could help you, if you wished it" Verity offered when I failed to reply. "I could ask Chade to send people to the Mountain Kingdom to make inquiries. Discreetly, of course-"

"-No" I found my voice and shook my head vigorously, the word emerged harsher than I intended. I softened my tone. "Beg pardon. But No Thank you."

"Why not?" Verity asked, an earnest puzzled question, not a rebuke.

I stared at the game board "I don't remember much about her…" I admitted. "Just... fragments. And it doesn't seem a kindness to drag someone who's long forgotten me into my life."

My complicated, messy, dangerous life.

Verity's expression grew gentle. "I doubt any woman forgets a child she birthed, Fitz. No matter how many years pass."

I shrugged trying to appear nonchalant "…It doesn't matter anyway…" I said quitely. "She's... lost to me in more ways than one."

Verity frowned. "What do you mean?"

I met his eyes finally. "I put her in Girl-on-Dragon." The words tumbled from me before I could reconsider. "My memories of her—what few I had—I couldn't... I couldn't bear them anymore. They hurt too much. So I pushed them away and put them into the dragon."

Verity's face fell. "Oh, Fitz..."

"It seemed necessary at the time," I said hollowly. "After everything with Regal, with Molly..." I'd been trying to survive. And those memories—of warmth and safety I could never have again—they were more painful than helpful."

Verity sat silent and still, and a look of pity, and of sadness on his face as he regarded me. I couldn't stand to meet his eyes, focusing out the window instead. I wiped at the wetness forming in my own eyes.

When Verity finally spoke, his voice was soft with sorrow. "Fitz, we need to undo this somehow. We must find a way to restore those memories to you."

I shook my head sharply "No. I don't want them back."

"Fitz you've done something..." Verity hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Something dangerously close to forging yourself. You've carved away parts of your own being."

I shook my head again more vigorously "No…no that's no right. I don't feel…forged…" I protested, my hands clenching into fists on the table to starve off the slight tremor that had begun. "I'm still myself. I still think and feel and—"

"—But often you feel numbed, don't you?" Verity leaned forward, his eyes searching mine. "Less capable of joy overall. Life has less... vibrancy than it once did, doesn't it?"

His words struck too close to truth. I remembered how colors had seemed brighter in my youth, how even simple pleasures had filled me with wonder. When had that faded? Had it been a natural consequence of age and hardship, or something I'd done to myself?

"That's just what happens when you grow up" I muttered defensively. "Everyone loses that childish capacity for joy."

"No, Fitz. Not like this." Verity reached across the table, gently placing his hand on mine. "What you've done—it's like cutting out a part of your heart to stop it from hurting."

A knot formed in my throat as my hands began to tremble more. I yanked back the one he was holding and tried to hide them both by clasping them together under the table, but they shook regardless.

Verity noticed immediately "Fitz?"

"I'm fine." The words came out strained and unconvincing. "I mean—I'm well." I shut my eyes and clenched my jaw "Could we... could we perhaps change the subject? Please. " My voice emerged in a shaky whisper that betrayed far more vulnerability than I intended. No. No I told myself. I wasn't doing this again! I would not turn into a pathetic snivelling wretch in front of him again. I would repel at him before I allowed that to happen-

"Of course," he said gently, withdrawing his still outstretched hand. "I didn't mean to distress you."

A sharp knock on the door shattered the quiet. I leapt to my feet, my hand instinctively reaching for a blade that wasn't there.

Old habits died hard.

Verity noticed my reaction but addressed the door. "I said I was not to be disturbed for the hour!" His voice some how managed to boom without raising its volume.

"Your majesty…" came a hesitant voice through the door "you've been gone for an hour and a half, and the negotiations are about to resume.

Verity sighed. "I'll be there shortly" he called back, fighting to keep the irritation from his voice.

Footsteps retreated from the door without it ever opening. I remained standing, muscles tense.

"I should have realized how late it's grown," Verity said, rising from his chair. "Time passes differently during these conversations…"

I looked to the window, noticing how far the sun had journey west. He was right—we'd been talking far longer than I'd realized. 

"Verity…" I said, keeping my voice low despite the servant's departure. "Might I….might I have a sword to carry? Something serviceable." I forced myself to stand straight, and tried to look a warrior, rather than some scared child asking for a torch in the dark. "Given recent events, I'd feel better with a blade at my side."

Verity considered me. "Are you planning to defend me, or yourself?"

"Both." I answered honestly. "I don't like moving through the castle unarmed"

Verity's expression turned weary. "Fitz…you're safe here. I will not allow anyone to harm you…"

I gritted my teeth. Verity's will hadn't prevented Regal's and Galen's plots, and every fortress had its weaknesses. True safety was an illusion I'd abandoned long ago. But I would not insult Verity again by arguing with him. I lowered my eyes and said nothing

"However…" Verity began, and I felt him reading my expression "I want you to feel comfortable, and I see how on edge you are…. So.." he conceded " ..I'll arrange something suitable for you."

I looked up, he held up a hand as I began to thank him.

"Fitz, you must promise me you'll be measured with it. The guards don't know you're here, and I don't want any…accidents…" Verity stated firmly giving me a meaningful look. "Am I understood?"

My first impulse was to argue that Verity's concern was unjustified, but I had to admit years of being hunted had left me with instincts that sometimes reacted before thought.

"Yes my king." I replied, feeling some of the tension ease in me. "I can control myself, and I will be careful."

Verity gave me a solemn nod. "I'll bring something to your chambers tonight, after these damned negotiations conclude for the evening.

You're welcome to remain in my tower for the day" Verity said, gesturing with a sweeping hand around the room. "Or my study if you prefer it. Help yourself to anything you need: books, writing materials, wine if you wish it-though not too much whilst you're healing mind…. Consider my chambers yours as well." 

With that, he left me to my own company.

Chapter Text

After Verity departed I made my own way downstairs and back to my borrowed chambers. In my absence the maids had cleaned, tidied and left me lunch: venison pasties, root vegetables, some hearty kale soup and raisin and date pastries for dessert. I latched the door, but left the secret passage open in case Nighteyes wanted access, then wolfed down the meal.

When I'd finished eating, I found myself looking about the room, feeling a bit at sea. I was not used to having nothing to do. I considered what might be useful… I couldn't try skilling to August again until Chade and I had brewed the elfbark this evening… I could borrow pen and paper from Verity and write about the Wit as Chade had asked me perhaps…?

My eyes swept the chamber and stopped. On the bed, lay a package wrapped in rich blue cloth and tied with gold string that I hadn't noticed before. A piece of parchment rested atop it. There was no name or signature but I recognized Verity's letters even before I lifted the note.

For one who has always deserved better choices.

I unwrapped the blue cloth. Inside lay the most beautiful traveling scribe kit I had ever seen. The leather satchel was supple and well-crafted. Within, nestled in fitted compartments, were glass vials for different colored inks, each stoppered with cork. Fine brushes of varying sizes lay secured in their own slots, their tips perfect and unbent. A set of steel-nibbed pens gleamed beside them, and there were compartments for parchment, both rough and fine. A small grinding stone for mixing pigments sat in one corner, and I found packets of powdered colours that would create every hue I could imagine.

I sank onto the bed's edge, the satchel in my hands. The leather smelled of beeswax, quality oils and careful tanning. Each tool was the finest of its kind. I lifted one of the glass vials, examining a deep blue ink that reminded me of the scales of Verity's dragon.

An idea floated into my mind...perhaps a way to show my gratitude for the gift. I pulled out a sheet of parchment and began to sketch the scene in my head: Verity's dragon slumbering peacefully in the stone garden.

I lost myself in the work. I used the blue I'd admired for the scales, selected other colours; a green moss had grown in the crevices, yellow for wildflowers had sprouted between the stones. When I was done, I drew the rest of the Elderlings in turn, and added to notes and labels each one.

Underneath the artwork I wrote a message for Verity

Thank you Uncle, for seeing the boy I was, not just what I became

At some point Nighteyes came into the room and curled up on the bed. Dozing whilst I worked.

The sun was touching the horizon when footsteps approached my door. A soft knock, then Kettricken's voice.

"Fitz? May I enter?"

I looked up, surprised to find the day nearly gone.

"A moment my queen…" I got up an quickly unlatched the main door. Bowing low and respectfully as I held it open for her.

She huffed in annoyance "Fitz family do not bow to each other in private" She admonished as she entered. She carried a picnic basket on one arm, and baby Dutiful cradled against her shoulder with the other. The little prince's dark eyes took in everything with a fascinated curiosity. Nighteyes perked up from his spot on the bed, his tail thumped in welcome.

"I have brought you dinner" She announced moving toward the table. Kettricken's gaze fell on my paintings spread across the surface. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, Fitz. These are magnificent…. I feel as if I could step back in to this place… "

I reddened slightly at the praise, "I thought Verity might like them..." I hurriedly started to clear the table and gather the pens away, I had not meant for anyone other than Verity to see the amateurish sketches.

"He will treasure them." She smiled warmly. "Would you like to hold Dutiful while I set out your dinner?"

Before I could protest, Kettricken pushed the cheerful baby toward me. I hastily dropped the pens I was still clutching and reached out to take Dutiful, a little surprised by her casual trust.

Elder-sister does not trust casually just anyone with her cub. You are pack. Nighteyes assessed padding over.

The moment Dutiful's small weight settled into my arms, a warm contentment spread through my chest. He was heavier than I'd expected, solid and real in a way that grounded me, like bare feet on the forest ground, or the smell of the earth after a cleansing rain. I found myself smiling down at him. I sat back down in a chair with the prince in my arms.

Nighteyes floated over and gently sniffed at the baby's feet. Dutiful giggled in delight, kicking his legs and waving his arms as if the wolf was the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen.

"Careful, brother…" I murmured to Nighteyes, but the wolf was already being perfectly gentle, and allowed the baby to grasp at his ears.

No fear in this one. Nighteyes observed, his mental voice amused.

Kettricken worked quickly at the table, unpacking her basket. Cold roasted chicken emerged, along with bread still warm from the ovens, cheese, apples, pear tarts, and what looked like honey cakes.

She turned back to us arms outstretched and smiling. I handed Dutiful back over. He made a small sound of protest at leaving Nighteyes' fascinating ears behind.

"You are good with him." Kettricken said, settling the baby against her shoulder again. "He does not take to everyone so readily."

I felt heat rise in my cheeks again. "He's... he's a fine child."

"I must hurry back to the Great Hall. The Chalcedean ambassador expects me to listen to more complaints about our hospitality." She rolled her eyes slightly. "Do you need anything before I return?"

"No, I'm well provided for. Thank you my Queen." I began to bow again, but managed to stop myself "I hope the Chalcedeans are treating you with the respect you deserve?" I felt more protective of her, since I'd heard of both her condition and Chalcedean manners...or rather lack of them.

Kettricken's smile turned weary at the corners. "The Chalcedeans are... not the best of guests." She said diplomatically "They seem to believe that discussing trade with a woman diminishes their standing, even when Verity makes it abundantly clear I am to be included in all decisions." She shifted Dutiful to her other arm, and he reached down for Nighteyes' ears again. "They defer to Verity and the other men in the room, then act as if I have not spoken when I contribute. In truth, I will be glad when they depart. But it is part of the duty of being queen, and for the good of the realm."

I nodded sympathetically. "From what I'd heard about the Chalcedeans I doubt I could find much to like about them either my lady…."

Kettricken nodded tiredly and picked up the basket, preparing to leave. Then she turned to me as if recalling something.

"Lady Patience and Lacey arrived late last night" Kettricken stated. "They intend to have their voice in the negotiations as well. I am eager to see what the Chalcedean ambassador makes of them." A small smile played on her lips.

I grinned at that. Patience would terrify the Chalcedeans simply by being herself.

Kettricken's smile faded. "She speaks of you often, Fitz. And sadly. She mourns you as one mourns the loss of a son." Her voice softened. "Won't you consider revealing that you are alive to her? It would bring her such joy…."

Guilt rose in me, the thought of her pain twisted something deep in my chest… But revealing myself to Patience would make an already messy situation impossibly complicated…. My step mother had never been able to keep a secret, and her emotional reactions were... intense….In truth I was more than a little afraid that she might fly into a temper with me if she found out the truth…

Kettricken took my pensive silence as refusal. "I will not push you…" she said quietly, though her disappointment was obvious.

"Thankyou…" I said uncomfortably. For as much as the simple thought of sitting in Patience's parlour, with tea and scones and discussions of botany filled me with warmth and surprising pang of longing, I could not shake the equally powerful sense of dread felt about confessing to her I was alive.

"Well…I should be getting back…" Kettricken started towards the door. Suddenly I thought of something else.

"Kettricken wait…Could I ask a favour of you?"

She turned back to me "Of course Fitz what do you need?"

"Please ensure the court is well-guarded whilst the Chalcedean's are here. I talked to Verity, but well….I'm not convinced he is taking all my security concerns very seriously at the moment…" I thought of Verity's skill impression of me…and internally grimaced. I had a suspicion Verity now saw me more and more as a fretful child…or some fragile hysterical weeping dandy….I was going to have to work hard to get him to view me as a capable warrior again.

"Well…." Kettricken said with her best attempt at tact "Verity does say you have a lot of security concerns..."

I suppressed as scowl at that.

Kettricken put a hand on my shoulder. "It is taken care of, Fitz. And you should not be worrying about such things whilst you recover." She told me firmly. "Now I must go. But it is very good to see you looking much better"

Kettricken surprised me by stepping forward and pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. An unexpected, sisterly or motherly gesture.

"Rest well, Fitz. I will see you tomorrow morning for more exercise" she told me spritely, then swept toward the door with Dutiful still reaching hopefully for Nighteyes over her shoulder.

Through the Wit, her touch lingered like an echo. I felt the warmth of her regard, protective and fierce in the way a wolf mother guards her cubs. Not romantic love—nothing like what flowed between her and Verity—but something familial and more encompassing. The same fierce tenderness she showed Dutiful, extended to include me.

This is pack The thought floated from Nighteyes, as though to a slow cub. I turned to him.

"Brother….would you be willing to stay close to Kettricken during the day? She might need... protection. Or comfort. I know she has some small ability with the Wit…enough to sense your moods if not your thoughts."

Nighteyes lifted his head, golden eyes gleaming with what I could only describe as amusement. I have been doing exactly that when I am not required to watch over you, Changer.

"Watch over me?" I bristled. "I don't need watching over."

The sound that emerged from Nighteyes was unmistakably wolfish laughter - a huffing exhalation combined with what almost seemed like a grin. Of course not. You, who got yourself stuck outside the den. You, who made yourself ill using the bad magic this morning. You, who would have thrown yourself from the alpha's horse rather than accept help. No, you never need looking after…

I felt my cheeks flush. "That's different. Those were all ... unusual circumstances."

Every day with you brings unusual circumstances, my brother. Elder-sister, at least, does not try to fling herself from high places or consume bark that makes her sick….of which you still plan to do more of when the moon rises?

I plucked some of the chicken from the plate and chewed. Avoiding the disapproval in his golden eyes. "You know I must."

Nighteyes rose from the bed, stretching each leg sullenly, as though emphasising his rebuke.

Then I go to elder-sister's side now. When you have finished foolishly poisoning yourself in the old one's tower, you can find me in her den.

"It's not foolish." I protested "If August-"

If, if, if. Nighteyes interrupted, his mental voice sharp with irritation. You chase shadows while real dangers prowl the halls. The Chalcedean pack-strangers reek of malice, yet you worry about one broken wolf who has shown no teeth.

With that, he scratched at the main door until I opened it for him. Then trotted out without another glance, his displeasure radiating through our bond like a cold draft.

Chapter Text

The familiar scents of herbs and potions assailed me as I entered Chade's workshop. I took in new and unrecognisable bundles hanging from the rafters, along side the jars of powders and liquids lining the shelves. Home. In its twisted way.

Chade was standing by the fireplace examining a scroll. He looked up as I entered "Ah, there you are….I've been reading about skill over exposure and it's effects on the mind. Fascinating and disturbing in equal measure….Are you certain you want to continue with this?"

I didn't want to debate this again. "You said yourself we need to know about August."

Chade gave a solemn nod. He set a small copper pot of water to heat over the fire. I broke the elfbark into small pieces and stirred it into the boiling water. The water darkened and a pungent, earthy smell rose with the steam. When it was finished I poured the finished brew into a cup and set it on the table to cool.

"What now?" Chade asked.

"Well..I suppose….I'll just sit here and try to skill…" I said, lowering myself into Chade's worn armchair. "I'd appreciate it if you handed me the elfbark as soon as I'm done. The worst part is stepping into the skill current by myself. That's what Verity has been supporting me with, and it's what hurts the most…." I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension gathering there. "If I can manage to get past that initial barrier, I'll hopefully be able to connect with August for a while….and if I can take the elfbark quickly after I think I can avoid a seizure…"

"I see." Chade looked as if he was going to voice a concern but seemed to change his mind and asked instead: "Is there anything else I can do to assist you?"

I mustered a feeble smile, attempting to lighten the mood. "If you could stop me from falling out of the chair or banging my head if I have a fit, that would be appreciated."

He didn't return my smile, but moved closer, positioning himself beside the chair, ready to catch me should I convulse or collapse.

I closed my eyes and prepared to breach the wall that separated me from the Skill. Then I pushed.

Pain lanced through my skull, white-hot and merciless. I gasped, nearly retreating from the agony, but forced myself to press harder. If I couldn't get through this barrier, I'd never reach August.

Desperate, I abandoned caution and threw myself headlong into the current. The pain flared violently then disappeared as I was caught and swept away. No longer fighting against the skill, I tumbled through its depths, disoriented and helpless as a leaf in a flood. The familiar room around me vanished, replaced by a boundless nothing that pulled me down, down, down….

Images rushed past—fragments of strangers' thoughts, fleeting sensations, bursts of emotion. I lost myself in them, momentarily forgetting why I'd come here at all. What was I searching for? The current tugged me deeper, threatening to scatter my consciousness like petals in gale.

A whisper of coherent thought came to me. August. I needed to find August.

The mere idea was enough. Like an arrow loosed from a bow, I hurtled through the skill stream. Then with jarring suddenness, I crashed into another mind.

Confusion engulfed me. August's thoughts weren't ordered like Verity's or even scattered like a normal person's. They were unraveled, like a tapestry half pulled apart. Threads of memory tangled with strands of present perception. Past and present wove together in nonsensical patterns. I struggled to make sense of anything as his fragmented consciousness surrounded me, threatening to entangle me in its chaos.

I forced myself to focus, attempting to sift through the chaotic tangle of thoughts and memories. Somewhere in this mess lay August's feelings toward Verity, buried among the broken shards of his consciousness.

A thread caught my attention—it was hard thing to describe why I was drawn to it…but to me it seemed to carry something of Verity's distinct mental scent. I followed it cautiously through the labyrinth of August's mind until the memory crystallized around me.

A sunlit courtyard at Buckkeep. A small, determined version of August, perhaps five years old, brandished a wooden sword. Across from him stood Verity— young, barely into his twenties—laughing as he parried the child's enthusiastic attacks.

"Good strike, little cousin!" Verity's praised warmly.

The memory burned with admiration, hero worship, and simple childhood joy. I neglected to guard my thoughts and a bitter pang of jealousy shot through me.

Something shifted. The memory froze, then rippled like disturbed water. August—the present August—sensed me.

Panic erupted through his consciousness. Who's there? Who's THERE?

The fragile order I'd found within his mind collapsed. Thoughts and memories whirled faster, tangling more tightly around me. The chaos intensified, threatening to ensnare me completely.

No, no, no! I thrashed against the mental bindings, struggling to break free. August's terror fed mine in a spiraling loop. Panic seized me as I fought to escape, clawing my way back toward the skill current. August's fear pursued me, threatening to trap me in his madness forever.

August's mind shattered around me. A whirlwind of disconnected images assaulted my consciousness—childhood fears, fragments of dreams, bits of conversations long forgotten. Worse everything I was began to jumble with Augusts thoughts. For a moment I could not separate myself from him. I fought to escape, pushing toward the exit I'd created, when one image froze me in place.

Verity sprawled on stone steps, blood pooling beneath him. His vacant eyes stared skyward, unseeing. His chest still, lifeless.

The horror of it flung me violently from August's mind and slammed me back into my own body. My limbs jerked uncontrollably against the floor. When had I fallen? My muscles contracted in agonising spasms, my back arching as convulsions racked me.

Chapter Text

"Fitz! FITZ!" Chade's voice penetrated my fog of pain. I felt his hands gripping my my shoulders in an attempt to steady me. "Can you hear me? Fitz!"

Something bitter flooded my mouth. Elfbark. I choked, nearly spewing it back up, but Chade clamped my jaw shut.

"Swallow, boy. You must swallow!"

I forced the vile liquid down. The convulsions gradually subsided, my limbs grew heavy. The pain receded to a dull throb.

"That's it.." Chade murmured with relief as he held the cup to my mouth.

He helped me off the floor and back into the armchair by the fire. My head lolled back as I slumped into it. I blinked up at the stone ceiling, struggling to orient myself. Every muscle ached.

"You've been in that trance for nearly an hour, boy." Chade pressed a damp cloth to my forehead. "I was about to fetch Verity…"

"An hour" I croaked. "It felt like seconds." I remembered time passing slower in the skill…but perhaps damaged minds made it pass faster?

"Well, what happened? What did you see?" Chade demanded.

I dropped my head into my hands, and tried to gather my thoughts "August's mind is... shattered. Like broken glass reassembled wrong…But saw something: A vision of Verity dead. Murdered."

Chade's face grew stony. "You uncovered a plot? He's planning something?"

"I…don't know…..it could just be a delusion…. Or a trap…" I lifted my head from my hands despite the room's spinning.

"You still think this might all be great deception on his part?"

"I…don't know…. But that image..." I shuddered. "….his mind was….like nothing I'd ever encountered…The disorder felt genuine, but I don't know enough about the skill to know whether it was an elaborate disguise…Or if perhaps….perhaps it could even be something worse…" I said, an idea taking root as I spoke. "What if August truly is mad, but still capable of Skill manipulation?"

Chade's eyebrows drew together. "Explain."

"What if madness doesn't always destroy ability….. What if it..." I fought to find the words through the lingering fog of the skill headache. "What if sometimes it strips away restraint. What if his broken mind can still reach out and touch others? Plant suggestions, influence thoughts? A truly mad Skill-user might not even realize what he's doing. Just... broadcasting his fractured thoughts and memories to anyone susceptible."

"Including visions of Verity's death."

"Yes. Whether it's plan or merely the fevered imagination of a broken mind, I can't tell. Chade I need to see him in person. I have to know for certain if he's a threat, or merely a broken man with nightmares…."

Chade shook his head. "Out of the question. I'll send another spy, someone with more experience—"

"—Unless they're Skilled, it will do no good! Like I said before if August retains even a fraction of his Skill, he could control your spy. Make them see whatever he wishes them to see." My head throbbed with each heartbeat, but my resolve grew stronger.

Chade considered, then shook his head grimly, fingers stroking his beard. "If Verity and Dutiful were removed—"

"…August would be next in line for the throne." I finished for him. A chilly foreboding seemed to settle over the room.

"There's something else…" I said. "Verity mentioned bringing August to Buckkeep. He thinks August's steward isn't caring for him properly—that the man's stealing from August's estate. Verity believes August would fare better surrounded by family."

Chade gave a nod. "I know all that. There's evidence to suggest steward's been skimming funds for months. August's lands are in shambles. Verity's been wrestling with the decision for weeks..." He stroked his beard for a time thinking, then looked up at me suddenly lips pursed consideringly "How much more powerful is Verity than you at Skilling?"

"Immensely. Like comparing a candle flame to a forge fire. He was always more gifted than me, but since his transformation, his ability flows deeper and stronger than anything I've ever encountered." I rubbed my side absently, I still fighting waves of nausea, and it had started to ache again.

Chade's eyes sharpened. "Then how could Verity miss what you discovered? If he's so much stronger, surely he would have instantly sensed August's deception or homicidal madness when he Skilled to him?"

I thought a moment before I answered, trying to puzzle it over. "I…I don't know…I think perhaps Verity observed…but didn't probe…you said it yourself, Verity has a distaste for spying…and he doesn't want to believe ill of August…August didn't reveal the vision straight away…I felt it was almost like something I accidentally knocked off a shelf as I was fleeing his mind… " I felt fairly certain that my uncle would not have caused the same cascade of events that I had, and wouldn't have riffled through any hidden thoughts.

"Fitz…" Chade continued causiously, his investigator's mind clearly churning. "I have to ask this…is there a possibility that vision came from your own mind? Your own fears about Verity's safety?"

"No." I answered tersely. " I know what I saw. It was in August's thoughts, not mine."

But even as I spoke the denial, doubt crept in like smoke under a door. I'd been desperate to escape that maelstrom of broken memories and fevered dreams…. In my terror, had I manifested that vision of Verity somehow? The Skill was still largely mysterious to me, its workings often unpredictable…my education of it incomplete….

Could the mind play such tricks during Skill-work? I realized how little I truly understood about the magic that coursed through my blood. Verity had always warned me about maintaining barriers. In my eagerness to prove August's guilt, had I compromised my own perception?

"Chade….I won't deny my knowledge of the Skill has gaps large enough to sail a ship through..." I admitted reluctantly. "…But the thought did not feel like mine. It felt alien…. Chade there's only one way to be sure of this, I need to see August in person. Travel to his estate and investigate him for myself"

"Fitz, you know I cannot permit that."

"Do you know of another skill user we can deploy then? It's the only real solution and you know it." I stood, fighting the dizziness that threatened to topple me. "Anyone else would be useless against him."

Chade looked troubled. He took a few turns about small chamber. He seemed to war with himself as he walked. Finally he exhaled noisily and turned to me scowling. "I like this not Fitz, and Verity will like it even less when he finds out. But I fear you are right and we have no real choice. I will organize a discrete guard, to travel with you…Men who don't ask questions—"

"—Men who could all be turned against me if August retains even a fragment of his Skill." I shook my head emphatically, ignoring the pain that reasserted itself with each movement. " All I need is a good horse, a sword and some tools of our trade"

Chade fell grimly silent. His eyes flicked from the elfbark remnants to my face, measuring my determination against my physical state.

Chade pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "This feels too reckless, Fitz. It's bad business, all of it." He sighed deeply. "But I see no other way." His eyes hardened as he jabbed a finger toward me. "If—and I stress if—you go on this mission, you are ONLY observe August from a distance. Do not enter the keep where he resides, nor let yourself be pulled into any chaos. Am I understood?"

I bristled at his tone. "You speak as if I deliberately cause mayhem wherever I go."

Chade merely arched an eyebrow, refusing to dignify my protest with a response. "I will organize a swift horse and provisions for your journey a week and a half hence."

"A week and a half? August could be planning something now! We can't afford—"

"—Look at yourself." Chade cut in, firmly. "You're in no condition for a day's ride, let alone a mission of this nature. You need time to heal. If August is involved, all we'd accomplish by sending you now, is another dead Farseer. I will double the guard around the King and Queen in the meantime, and somehow convince Verity not to leave the keep, nor allow his personal guard to do so… "

I slumped back onto the chair, knowing he was right but hating to admit it.

"Besides," Chade continued "Verity will be occupied with the equinox feast and entertaining visiting nobles, as well as the delegation a week or so hence. It's perfect timing—your absence can be more easily covered for day while the castle bustles with such activities."

I gave a nod, still not pleased with the delay but recognising there was nothing to be done.

"Well, let's get you back downstairs and into your bed boy…" Chade offered me his hand " You'll need all the rest you can get."

Chapter Text

Chade helped me back to my quarters, once there I stumbled my way to the bed and crumpled on it, trying to ignore the spinning room. I was only half aware when he tugged my boots off, and patted my arm before exiting the chamber.

I had begun to drift off when the door opened again. I sat bolt upright out of instinct. Berating myself for neglecting to lock it…

Verity's blurry broad frame filled the entrance. I pushed down an urge to hide under the covers. The elfbark was still bitter on my tongue.

"I came to wish you—" His words died as his eyes fell on me. The easy smile vanished from his face. "Fitz, you look terrible. Has your wound worsened?"

I tried to straighten, painfully aware of my disheveled appearance. "I'm fine. Just tired."

Verity crossed the room, and pressed a cool hand to my forehead. "You feel clammy..." He leaned closer, studying my face.

I pulled away, avoiding his eyes. "It's nothing. The wound aches sometimes, that's all."

"This isn't from your wound." Verity's voice hardened as he stared me down. "Fitz. I know that look. I wore it often enough during the war." He pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. "You've been skilling haven't you?" A hundred yarns came into my mind to cover up my deeds that evening, and if he had simply sounded angry instead of deeply disappointed I could have found the will to spin one of them…but as it was I suddenly found I had little heart to lie so directly to Verity……I steeled myself….

"Yes my king." I confessed quietly, hanging my head.

Verity's sighed as he rubbed his forehead, as though I was giving him a headache. "It went poorly, I take it?"

"My king I…I got lost in the current…I couldn't find my way back easily, I-"

"-Fitz, you shouldn't push yourself this way." Verity cut off the beginnings of my rambling confession "Your connection to the Skill is still fragile. Going into the current alone in your condition is dangerous. It can have detrimental effect on your healing too." he scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head "Still I suppose I can understand something of why you did it…."

I blinked. "You can?"

"Yes. So…did you reach her then?" He asked

I frowned in confusion. Verity mistook it for an admission of some sort.

"Fitz…." Verity sighed heavily "I know you must miss Molly.….as I said understand the pull. Eda knows I do. When Kettricken and I were separated during the war, there were nights I wished to...look in on her too…" He shook his head. "But Fitz, it isn't honorable to spy on people that way. Getting caught up in the Skill-current and glimpsing someone you love is one thing. Doing it on purpose is quite another.""

Molly? Verity thought I had been trying to reach out to Molly…? I thought back to the last time we had skilled together in the tower. How Verity witnessed me being drawn to Molly and Burrich's cottage, and the effect the experience had had on me… it slowly dawned why he'd made such an assumption.

"I…" I looked up at him intending to correct him then trailed off. I had been ready to confess…but…letting him believe I had been reaching for Molly wasn't truly a lie, was it? I wasn't speaking falsely…. If I simply... wasn't speaking….?

No, not a lie, I persuaded myself. Not really. Verity had simply drawn his own conclusions….And surely better this than explaining about August…? Better this too than admitting I'd taken elfbark against his express wishes….at least at the moment…I'd confess all eventually….when I had more evidence…when my king was safe…just…not now…

Verity reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "Look Fitz, I know it's a difficult situation…But no more solitary experiments . Promise me?"

His sympathy made what I was doing feel worse somehow "I…" I hesitated. I really didn't want to make a promise to Verity that I knew I was going to break in less than a moon…. "Must I promise my King?" I asked.

Verity raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather not?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "It's just that... " I strained for the closest version of truth I dared give him " I'd like to practice on my own sometimes." I met his gaze, hoping he would understand. "What if I promise to be more careful instead?…..and….not to…look in on Molly? At least not consciously…." That much I could honestly promise him.

Verity was less than pleased by my offer, but didn't push me. "I suppose that will have to do. Though I'd have preferred a proper promise…"

Seemingly content the matter was settled, Verity rose from the bed and crossed to the wardrobe. He rummaged through the drawers, pulling out a fresh nightshirt, which he tossed on the bed beside me, shaking his head. "Were you planning to sleep in your day clothes? Someone needs to teach you to take better care of yourself, Fitz….." He muttered almost to himself "Were you here openly I would assign you a manservant.."

"You sound like Burrich…" I muttered back smiling, as I fumbled with the ties of my tunic. "Always fussing. 'Stand up straight, boy. Clean those stalls properly. Wash your face. Don't sleep in your clothes'" I mimicked Burrich's gruff tone "Next you'll be telling me to rub down my horse before seeing to myself."

Verity chuckled. "Is that so terrible? Burrich raised you well."

"It's not terrible…." I admitted, struggling to pull off my tunic. "Just... Exhaustingly familiar…." The fabric caught on my bandaged side, and I hissed in pain. It hadn't hurt so badly this morning…? Had my skilling truly undone some of Verity's skill healing, as he'd said?

Verity stepped closer. "Do you need help?"

"No…" I said quickly, then relented. "Maybe….yes…."

He helped free me from the tunic and then helped pull the nightshirt over my head, careful of my injury. I felt childish and stupid, but I supposed it was better than being trapped in the thing.

"There." Verity said he was done. "It pleases me to see you getting better at accepting help Fitz."

I grunted in response, making quick work of the bottom half of my clothing, before sinking back against the pillows.

"I nearly forgot why I came." Verity said suddenly. He walked to the door, where I now noticed a long, cloth-wrapped bundle leaning against the frame. How had I missed that? The exhaustion must have dulled my awareness more than I'd realized.

Verity hefted the weighty package with both hands. "This is for you."

I accepted the bundle, surprised by how heavy it was. The wrapping was hessian, tied with leather cords. I quickly unpicked the knots, and the cloth fell away to reveal polished steel:

A battle axe.

On the blade, etched deep into the metal was the silhouette of a running wolf.

"I would have placed your crest there…the charging buck…" Verity said, with a small smile. "But I had a feeling you'd prefer something more... discrete."

"It's beautiful.." I breathed, tracing the wolf design with my fingertip, feeling the slight depression where the engraver's tool had bitten into the metal. Nighteyes would be pleased to see himself immortalized there. I turned it admiringly, the craftsmanship was extraordinary…elegant yet understated. I looked up at Verity somewhat stunned by the gift "It's a weapon fit for a prince…..Thank you Uncle"

Verity's smile grew at my words "A weapon fit for a prince…." he repeated slowly, as if savouring the phrase. "Yes. I suppose it is…. Prince FitzChivalry Farseer…." He spoke the title like he was testing how it sounded. "It has a fine ring to it…does it not? "

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, and stared back at Verity. My king was looking at me with a weighty seriousness.

"Blood will tell." He said "You've served this kingdom as faithfully as any prince. More faithfully than some who bore the title by birth...Another man in your position might ask why he did not bear the title already…"

I swallowed, taken aback "I…I have no ambitions above my station, Uncle." I said quickly, lest Verity get the wrong idea—that I coveted something, that wasn't mine. I wondered if he was testing me somehow…In my worry I subconsciously began reaching towards him, to reassure myself he wasn't displeased, but through my wit I felt only the weight of his affection for me like a warm cloak around my shoulders. It relieved me….but confused me further…why did Verity feel… happy about the idea of me being called a prince? Surely that would just cause him problems…?

"It pleases me that you like it." Verity continued oblivious to my wit reaching, then his tone grew serious, and his wit aura shifted to something more guarded. "But I want you to be clear on why I'm giving this to you: It is meant to protect you when either I, or my influence cannot. It is not an invitation to throw yourself into danger. Do I make myself plain FitzChivalry?"

"I was not planning to misuse your gift Uncle..." I suppressed a mild twinge of affront—my temper was not so bad I was about to run about the castle taking swings at Verity's guard, if that was what he feared.

"Oh I'm confident you weren't. If only because you don't you plan very much of anything at all…" Verity settled back into his chair surveying me.

Privately I thought that unfair. I did make plans…. But it wasn't my fault that the majority of them seemed to get blown of course by random events….

"I commissioned that weapon for you a few months back… while you were still.." Verity paused there, as if searching for diplomatic words "…away at your cottage….I hoped you'd return eventually…Though I confess, I've been debating all day whether to give it to you just now. I almost didn't…"

"Why? I've carried a weapon before. I'm not a child Uncle—"

"—No not a child. Just at times, as impetuous as one. Tell me truthfully, Fitz, do I need to worry about you doing something ill-advised with that? Like running off to hunt this assassin on your own?"

I was certainly willing to promise not to hurt the loyal folk of Buckkeep…but beyond that and where the assassin was concerned…I couldn't honestly swear to anything. I dropped my eyes to the axe. My pause stretched longer than it should have.

"Your silence answers my question." Verity rubbed his forehead with something between a growl and a groan.

"Uncle…It's hard for me to promise to do nothing at all when I know you're in danger…." I steeled myself to meet his gaze. "My king…" I took a deep breath. I knew he wouldn't like my next words, but I had to say them. "Will you answer a question about August honestly?"

"Your obsession with August is beginning to trouble me…" His jaw set tightly in irritation as he spoke "But yes, I'll answer your question honestly. Speak it then."

"Thankyou" I dipped my head respectfully in a bow, then continued. "When you Skilled to observe August at his estate, how deeply did you probe? Did you actually touch his mind, or did you just... look from a distance?"

Verity rolled his eyes. "Fitz I fear that whatever I tell you about that poor boy, it will not satisfy you…" Verity's tone was growing weary. "Your suspicions have already taken root too deeply…"

"Then perhaps we should both observe him together, support my skill whilst we reach out to him" I thought it a good suggestion, with Verity there I needn't fear getting sucked into August's madness, and I could make sure my Uncle got a proper look inside all the hidden alcoves of the man's mind "Let me touch his mind and you can judge—"

"—No! I'm appalled that you would even suggest such a thing after the conversation we have just had!" He shook his head in disgust. "That boy has suffered enough without us bumbling around in what's left of his mind! Do you have any idea how dangerous what you're proposing is? For both of you?" Verity rose and started pacing "Contact with a Skill-burned mind can entrap the one who touches it. Sane minds can unravel by trying to navigate the chaos left behind. Is that what you want? Eda knows both you and your own skill are already fragile enough at the moment! Not mention any intrusion could make August's condition worse!"

Verity shut his eyes briefly to calm himself and then took a another turn about the room. I held my tongue.

"Fitz I need you to understand something" Verity began, struggling to keep his voice even "August is not a threat. He cannot be a threat. What happened to him...What I did…" Verity stopped and looked to the fire, his eyes pained.

I had not realised that Verity blamed himself for August's condition, for what Galen and Regal had set in motion. "My king that wasn't your fault…." I said quietly.

Verity let out a long tired exhale and collapsed back in the chair "No Fitz… A man must admit his part in harm…. Even more important for a king to do so. I will not delude myself into thinking I had no hand in August's fate…" He fixed me with a look "Fitz you must let this go. August was twelve. Barely more than a child when Galen bent that poor boy's mind—"

"—I was much younger when Shrewd first used me to spy." I countered "And I only a year older when he gave me my first order to kill."

Verity went still. And I felt something shift in his eyes. Felt his regard of me change.

It did not feel good. Verity did not move, but through my wit I sensed him withdraw. Almost recoil.

With growing dismay, I began to suspect that until this moment, Verity had assumed I'd only been a spy up until my journey to mountains to fetch his bride. Only a poisoner of forged ones…not poisoner of ordinary folk… Did he think Rurisk my first assignment from Shrewd? Had Verity still not figured out why I was at Kelvar's keep with him all those years ago….?

Perhaps not….perhaps with all that had happened, he'd simply never thought on it again…

"You were only thirteen when you were given your first…mission?" Verity asked in a whisper.

"Yes" I said, then regretted it. I was now certain he hadn't known the whole story at all. A despairing thought struck me: I had sullied and dirtied myself in his eyes. I'd tainted all his memories of me.

I dropped my eyes to the axe, feeling bleak. How fine a weapon it was. Verity was probably already regretting giving it to me, now he knew what a twisted child I'd been. I felt I didn't want to meet his eyes ever again. I'd see everything good that used be there gone. Replaced instead with disappointment, anger…disgust…Exactly how I imagined Burrich and Molly would look if ever I told them I was alive…

Chapter Text

I made a decision. I wouldn't burden Verity any longer with my presence or the sight of me. "I'll leave tomorrow." I offered the axe back him head bowed and miserable.

No answer. He probably couldn't stand to look at me now. I thought he knew exactly what I was, what I'd been…but of course he wouldn't have accepted me so readily, or had such affection for me if he did…How foolish of me to think he would…that anyone would….something in me inwardly crumpled.

"Oh Fitz, stop that right now!" Verity said tersely. I felt him take the axe from me and I sunk deeper into misery.

Then the bed creaked suddenly as he sat down. He clapped a hand on my back of my neck, forcing me to look up at him. There was no disgust in his eyes, but he did look pained…

"I can feel you working yourself into a pit….Just like Chiv used to…He'd spiral down into self-recrimination until he convinced himself he was utterly worthless, and everything in the world was his fault."

I blinked at the comparison to my father.

"You're not going anywhere." Verity declared flatly. "Certainly not if I have any say in it, and not for a few weeks at the very least. So get that through that damned thick skull." He gave me slight shake by the scruff of the neck, as if push his words in. "Understood?"

I nodded mutely, not quite trusting my voice. The comparison to Chivalry had more than surprised me. Had my father truly struggled with the same dark spirals that seemed to drag me under?

"Good." Verity's grip relaxed, and he ruffled my hair as he withdrew his hand. "Because I won't have you deciding what's best for everyone else. That's my job, not yours. It's obvious to anyone with eyes that you're not well…in either body or spirit…the last thing you need right now is to be alone…you need looking after…" He nodded to the axe he'd propped against the wall"….and it's bad manners to return a gift. That stays there. It's yours. Now, get under the covers." he ordered.

I stared at him him dully, until he started tugging back the blankets , I shifted to let him do so, then I burrowed under them. The elfbark and skilling had left me feeling empty and exhausted. Verity gently pulled the covers up to my chest, then got up and stoked the dying fire, an aura melancholy hung around him.

I watched with a fuzzy confusion…. I'd been so convinced he would want me to go….

"It seems I have been very blind, haven't I, nephew…?"

"Uncle?"

"All these years, thinking I knew who my father was.... But I didn't really understand at all, did I..? Not until now…" He shook his head slowly "Thirteen?"

I gave a nod "It was at Kelvar's keep…" I began. Then hesitated, Chade had taught me assassins did not discuss their targets...But it also seemed a thing that my King had a right to know…

I watched Verity's face as understanding dawned. "Bayguard…" he said at last. Then he shook his head sadly. "I did not know you started your trade so young….I knew you'd been tasked with dispatching forged ones as you approached your fifteenth year… and I thought you young for that at first….Dangerous work, murky enough…but those people…they weren't…fully there anymore….and we were in desperate times… but…I didn't think…" Verity trailed off, shaking his head as he looked into the fire. It crackled. "… I thought you were only at Bayguard to observe… To report on what you overheard at dinner?"

"I was supposed to do that too…" I felt strangely detached from the memory. "But King Shrewd gave me another task before we left Buckkeep….If Kelvar couldn't be persuaded to man the towers properly...I was to make sure he never had the chance to betray the coast to the Red Ships."

"Eda's plough…" Verity breathed. "My father sent you to—"

"—Only if you failed the negotiations. But you didn't fail…" I said quickly. "Kelvar agreed to everything you asked. I never had to..." I trailed off, it didn't really do for an assassin to think on such things. "I remember being relieved after I learned it has all gone well."

A big part of that had also been down to a chance encounter with lady Grace, but I didn't feel the need to mention that.

Verity gazed at into flames of the hearth. "I must have appeared such an oaf to you…" he said quietly. "Fretting over Leon's appetite while you carried such weight. Sulking about Chivalry not being there to handle the delicate parts. I was probably whining about having to manage without my elder brother while you sat there, a boy with a man's burden…"

I shook my head vehemently "No. You never appeared that way to me."

Verity glanced at me, skeptical.

"You seemed kind…" I said truthfully. "Straightforward. When you worried about Leon, it showed you cared about someone with no voice of their own. When you missed Chivalry, it showed you loved your brother." I fidgeted under the blankets, trying to find the right words. "I've always liked that about you, Uncle. You don't hide what you feel behind courtly games."

"Kind…" Verity repeated, as if testing the word. "While my father was recruiting children to do his shadow work..."

"You didn't know… " I said firmly. "…Chade and Shrewd said you were too honorable to sit at a table with a man you knew might be poisoned and say nothing….that's why no one told you…And when you included me at that formal dinner, when you had Charim help me dress properly... that was the first time any of my blood relatives treated me like I belonged somewhere. Not as a bastard to be hidden away, but as someone who had a place…it was kind of nice..I hope-" I faltered then pressed ahead "I hope this doesn't sully your opinion of me too much…" I finished quietly "I know it's... distasteful to think about what I am…what kind of boy I was…"

Verity turned sharply toward me. "Distasteful?"

I looked away "Being an assassin was never a role I wanted, Uncle…. But I did want to help the kingdom and protect the people I cared about…" I pulled the blankets closer around me, feeling cold despite the warmth from the now roaring fire. "I …I understand if you see me differently now."

"I do see you differently," Verity said, and my heart sank. "I see a boy who was asked to carry impossible burdens. A child who was robbed of his innocence far too early." His voice grew rough with anger. "But no Fitz that doesn't sully my opinion of you. It sullies my opinion of my father…"

Surprised, I stared at him.

"I always knew father was pragmatic…sometimes ruthless when necessity demanded it. Despite all that, I loved him…I love him still…But this..." He gestured toward me. "Using a thirteen-year-old boy as his personal blade. That goes beyond pragmatism into something uglier. You should have been learning to read and write and handle a sword properly. Instead, he leaned on you to carry the weight of life and death decisions…."

"I…I did pledge to serve him loyally." I said by way of explanation. It was as Verity said. A man must admit to his part in things "Years before Bayguard. I agreed to it all when I was nine—"

"—Nine?! Fitz, Such pledges should only be given by men who have some concept of their meaning —Not children! Not boys who barely understand what loyalty means, let alone the cost of it!"

I frowned "But I did understand. King Shrewd even said I was intelligent enough to understand…. Explained it all clearly... The uses for someone who was, and yet was not of royal blood. The diplomacy of the knife. "

Verity paled "Fitz that's-"

"—No Uncle, please listen…" I pleaded, suddenly remembering my original point: Verity needed to understand about August "…August wasn't too young….He was old enough to know exactly what he was doing. Just like I was. You're too trusting. Too willing to see victims where there might be enemies."

Verity grit his teeth, but I pressed on.

"Uncle that's going to get you killed someday if I'm not here to watch for the threats you refuse to see." The words came out rushed like a plea or a worried whine, but they needed saying. I took a breath, feeling the rightness of what I was about to say. "My King, I hereby make the same pledge to you as I did to Shrewd. I— "

"Stop."

"Uncle, I want—"

"-No. I said stop. I don't want or need that pledge from you. Nor will I ever ask it….and if you're honest with yourself Fitz, you don't want to be bound to me that way either….What I need is family. What I want is for you to heal. To find some measure of peace. In truth I think you're trying to recreate a type of relationship that is most familiar to you…"His voice carried a sad certainty. "If I were to demand an oath from you…" Verity continued slowly "It would be to keep yourself out of harm's way and focus on resting….But I think I see now you'd only find some way around such an oath. I think you'd convince yourself that tracking down assassins was somehow 'resting' if you did it quietly enough." A wry smile tugged at his mouth. "It's almost impressive, really. The creativity you bring to finding loopholes. To blocking out pieces of information you'd rather not confront"

"My king, I don't—"

"You do." he said firmly. "Which is why I have a different proposal entirely."

Something about his expression had grown thoughtful, calculating.

"What kind of proposal?" I asked warily.

"I'll tell you tomorrow… For tonight enough talk. It is time you rested." He declared rising. Before I could ask more Verity moved to the lamp and blew out the flame, plunging the room into darkness save for the fading glow from the hearth. His footsteps crossed to the door, and I heard the soft click of it closing behind him.

Left with no other choices, I nestled deeper into the blankets. On the fuzzy edges of sleep I belatedly remembered the scribe kit that sat on the table beside me, invisible now in the darkness but no less precious for that. I berated myself that I'd completely forgotten to thank Verity properly for it. Tomorrow, I decided. Before we met for our lesson, I'd finish my drawings and find the right words.