“He was delighted she was dead,” True went on. “He planned her murder and you can even speak his name?”

Red crept up his neck as Wilmer spat, “You have what you want. Go.”

“I’ll tell you this only once, Father. For her. Because she loved you. Because she put so much effort into propping up a fickle and wayward reign. Because she would wish me not to do it. Only for those reasons I do not send you into exile, never to have your feet touch the fertile Dellish soil again. But do not test that. That will be the only warning you’ll get.”

True had no more to say and refused to hear another word.

Thus, he turned on his boot and strode out the door with his men.

The minute the guard outside the door closed it, True turned on Luther.

“Get them to bed,” he said, jerking his head to Bram and Florian. He then looked right at Bram. “And I don’t want you out of yours for two full days.”

“True—”

True interrupted him “Promise me.”

“I’ll want to visit Alfie,” Bram said quietly.

Of course he would.

“He needs time too, brother,” True replied in the same tone.

Bram nodded.

“All right, men,” Luther said, starting to herd them, “the king has spoken.”

Florian shot Luther a look.

Bram looked to True and shook his head.

But they all moved away.

True let out another long breath.

“You’ll be wanting Farah,” Wallace noted.

He looked to his man. “Yes. Though I hope she’s abed, asleep, and recovering herself and not perchance leading some charge against a Go’Doan temple with Elena, Serena, Silence and Ha’Lah riding at her back.”

Wallace’s lips quirked only slightly before he said, “She’s not abed, True. She’s in a chair by Alfie’s bed.”

True closed his eyes and dropped his head.

But of course she was.

“We will rally him,” Wallace vowed.

True opened his eyes and gave them to his friend.

“He’ll want the Poison.”

“We’ll rally him, True,” Wallace said through his teeth.

“His pride will not let him live a life where he has to depend on others, and you know it.”

“Then we’ll find ways he doesn’t have to,” Wallace retorted. “If his cock works, we will rally him.”

“A man’s manhood is not in his cock,” True replied.

“Tell that to Florian,” Wallace returned. “His manhood and his brain are in his cock.”

True shook his head.

“And Bram,” Wallace went on.

By the gods, True felt he might actually smile.

“And especially Luther,” Wallace continued.

“Please be quiet,” True begged.

“And Alfie,” Wallace whispered. “Though, not the brain part,” he finished on a mumble.

They held gazes.

Then True nodded.

“Get to bed yourself, Wally.”

It was Wallace who nodded then.

True watched him go.

Then he lifted his chin to the two guards at his father’s study doors before he turned the other direction to make his way to where Alfie had been taken.