“We could drug him.” Fred was leaning over my shoulder, his breath coming in short little whistles past my ear. “Can’t harm himself or anyone else if he’s out cold.”

“Do you have something?”

“I’ve a sleeping draught in my chambers,” Marie answered, but she didn’t move.

“Go get it,” I snapped. “And Fred, linger in the corridor and keep everyone out. The last thing we need is an interruption.”

Both leapt into action, leaving me alone with the ailing lord. I watched his labored breathing for a long moment before asking, “Is there anything of you left in there, Aiden du Chastelier?”

There was power in a name – even in a human one, and he slowly turned his head, some level of sanity returning to his gaze. “Yes.”

“Good.” I sat back on my heels. “If you endeavor to hold on to that, I’ll endeavor to see you freed of this foolish promise you made.”

“Do I have your word on that, Your Highness?” He cackled softly, throat convulsing.

“No.” I tilted my head, listening to the frantic beat of his heart. “I’ve made a few foolish promises of my own of late, and I’m finding them quite taxing.”

“Wise.” He rested his forehead against the stone. “I was young. I didn’t know what I was doing when I made those promises to your father.”

“I’m not interested in your excuses,” I said, wishing Marie would hurry up. “And blaming one’s poor choices on youth is a derivative excuse most often employed by the old.”

“Not excuses,” he said. “Just an explanation. And I might never have another chance to voice it.”

Talking seemed to have improved his lucidity, if nothing else, so I shrugged. “Confess away.”

“I promised to cede the Isle to him peaceably should the trolls ever be freed of the curse.”

“I’d gathered that much,” I said, then bit my tongue to keep any further sarcasm from passing my lips. “Why?”

“I was young. Foolish. Desperate. And the curse had held for centuries, so what were the chances of my debt being called?” He twitched against the magic binding his wrists. “And I didn’t realize what giving my word to him really meant.”

“You mean you didn’t think you’d have to keep it,” I said, not bothering to keep the sourness from my tone. “What did he give you in return?”

“Gold.” His color was high, but no longer from madness, I thought. It was shame. “I’d been running wild. Gambling, drinking, women – and my father did not approve. He cut me off completely. I was angry, and I knew… I knew bargains could be made under the mountain. Your father met with me personally. Feasted me and plied me with wine and listened to me complain about my father. Then he offered to pay my debts, and all he asked was for my word to come back and visit him again.”

I winced, knowing full well that my father could be jovial and charming when he was inclined. It was in those moments one should worry most.