Free In Honor Bound by DeAnna Julie Dodson

will not always believe so," Tom said softly and, breathing a sigh of desolation that would not be comforted, Philip bowed his head. Tom put one hand on his sagging shoulder and was gone.
    ***
    The next day, the king sent a message to Philip's chamber, borne by the Lord High Chamberlain himself, but Rafe would not let him in.
    "I am come of commission from the king," Dunois said. "I charge you in his name to let me pass."
    "I cannot do it, my lord. My lord of Caladen gave me express charge that I not admit anyone to him. If you have a message, I will give it him, but I can in obedience do no more."
    "Very well," Dunois said, after a moment of incensed consideration. "Tell the prince that His Majesty requires his presence in his private chamber this afternoon."
    "I will tell him so."
    Rafe bowed stiffly and went into Philip's room, shutting the door behind him. Philip was sitting on the bed, clutching a pillow in his arms, looking raw-nerved and easily set off.
    "I have a message from your father," Rafe said, keeping his voice low. "He has summoned you to him this afternoon."
    "No."
    "A direct summons from the king, my lord," Rafe said, startled at the flat rejection. "You cannot refuse it."
    "I do and I have. Tell him so or else do not, I do not care."
    "My lord–"
    "I cannot see him now, Rafe. Not now."
    Bonnechamp argued the matter no further. "I will tell him so."
    ***
    It was not an hour later when the king came himself. The room was black, for Philip had made Rafe close up the shutters and take away the candles. Even the hearth fire was unlit, cold.
    "Philip?"
    The candle he brought cast only a faint glow as he held it before him to search the darkness.
    "Philip, son?"
    "Do not ever call me son, butcher," Philip hissed in his ear, low and fierce, startlingly close.
    Robert turned and saw little more than his half-wild eyes, circled with black.
    "You left me little choice," Robert pled, reaching out to him.
    Philip stiffened and drew back.
    "Keep those hands away from me. They reek of her blood."
    "For you, Philip. I did this for you. I could not leave you prey to her sorcery, leave my kingdom's heir pawn to Satan."
    Philip shook his head warily. "I believe that no more than you do. It was for policy, not for witchcraft, that you burned her. If ever anyone was Satan's pawn, it is you."
    "No, son, believe me–"
    "You've killed my Kate! Killed her! Are you my father that you could kill what I best love in all the world?" Philip lowered his head under the weight of his grief. "Never say it was for me, that it was for my sake."
    "She was condemned by law."
    "Your law!"
    "She killed your brother's child! Are you so eager to be king that you would sanction that?"
    "The crown is accursed. I hate it. Kate knew that. And even if I had begged it of her, she never would have done so horrible a thing as kill an innocent child, not for me or all this world. You may lay that infamy at Margaret's door."
    "Why, Philip? You have yet to tell me why Margaret would do such a thing? She carried the next heir of Lynaleigh. What could she hope to gain by that child's loss?"
    Philip sat on the edge of the bed and rested his arms and his head on his knees.
    "I do not know. I have reasoned on that again and again, until my mind is sick with it, but I do not know."
    "Because she could have had no reason. It was this Fletcher woman did it. How else could such a lowborn creature hope to advance herself except through you? It is time you face the truth now, Philip. I know you were fond of her, but–"
    "Fond of her?" Philip stood up, his hands tightening into fists. "Fond? She was a woman, not a puppy! Mercy and grace, fond of her? I loved her, heart and soul I loved her, and you killed her!" His voice broke and the acid tears coursed down his face. "Murderer! Murderer!"
    He struck out blindly at his father, raining blows on his chest, arms, face. Robert grabbed his wrists and held them bruisingly tight until, weakened with grief, Philip could fight