Free In Honor Bound by DeAnna Julie Dodson Page A

no more. Abruptly, his struggling stopped and he looked beseechingly into his father's eyes. His sobs came again without warning, uncontrollable, tearing through his worn body until it seemed his lungs would burst.
    "Shh. Shh." Robert pulled him close, soothing, comforting. "I would have spared you this, if only you had listened to me. I had no choice but to condemn her, understand me that, but, believe me, Philip, what I must needs do as king has no bearing on the love I have for you."
    Philip sagged against him until his sobs quieted, then he fell to his knees.
    "Send me away." His broken plea stabbed deeply into his father's heart. "If there is any mercy left in you, Father, send me away from here."
    "I cannot, Philip. You are the crown prince. I need you with me here in the council."
    "Please, Father, for a month. A week. Dear God, a day, I beg you! Do not make me stay here."
    His own heart writhing, Robert pulled his son to his feet and made him lie down.
    "I am sorry, but I must. You know it is so." He swept away a tear on Philip's sunken cheek, and his voice grew more tender. "This will please you. I have decided that we'll not speak of marriage for you for yet awhile. Let your mind be easy in that regard until you are more ready to think on it, you have my promise. As for this deal of sorrow, time will heal it. You are young, yet. In time you will realize that these fancies pass. You will see, boy. Now go to sleep."
    ***
    For several days Philip did not sleep. He did nothing but sit in silent grief by day and walk the dark corridors at night. Rafe wore himself out worrying over his young master, for Philip still would not eat the food brought to him, hardly would drink even water, and sternly forbade Rafe to follow him in his restless wanderings. Nearly a week passed before Rafe could persuade him to even talk to him.
    There was scarcely a trace of the famed Chastelayne beauty in him now. He was worn and pale, his white lips pressed tight in a struggle to keep his raging grief in check. His eyes seemed larger for the black smudges beneath them, and they held such pain that it tore Rafe's heart to look into them.
    "My lord," he said as he watched Philip's bruised hands fitfully clenching and unclenching the arms of his chair. "Please, my lord, this cannot go on."
    One side of Philip's mouth twitched into a wrenching mockery of a smile. "The church, I understand, does not look favorably upon suicide, so I suppose it must go on."
    "My lord!"
    Before Rafe could say more, there was a sharp rap on the chamber door. Without waiting for an invitation, the Lord High Chamberlain swept into the room.
    "If you would grant me a moment, Your Highness–"
    Rafe turned. "My lord Dunois–"
    "Leave here, my lord," Philip warned, and the Chamberlain's face turned all concerned sorrow.
    "I know you are grieved, Your Highness–"
    "I'll not hear sympathy from you. You had none for her."
    "Please, my prince, I tried as best I might to spare you this. Ask your father's men if I did not go to her during the trial to see what plea she might make to save her life, even in the face of such strong proof against her." Dunois held up one hand in pledge of truth. "God knows I begged the king not to act hastily in this, but you know His Majesty when he's set his mind to a thing."
    He ended with an apologetic shake of his head and Philip squeezed his eyes shut and drew a painful breath.
    "I know."
    "I hope, then, you do not believe me disloyal to Your Highness."
    "You are loyal to Afton , my lord," Philip said, looking as if he wished he could choke the sycophantic voice into silence. "I suppose that is loyal enough."
    "I thank you, Your Highness."
    Dunois made a flourishing bow and Philip shifted in his chair.
    "Well? I trust there is more to what you have in charge."
    "Oh, yes, my lord. I am commanded by His Majesty the king to read to you the accounts of the last council meetings at which you have not been in attendance." Dunois held out the