Free This Scepter'd Isle by Mercedes Lackey, Roberta Gellis Page B

that all disguise had failed, that his long hair, wildly disordered, must no longer conceal his ears. And the boy was so close, staring into his face, seeing his cat-pupilled eyes.
    Despair all but overwhelmed him, but still Denoriel drew a gasping breath, trying to think of an explanation. Only FitzRoy showed no surprise or fear. His hands, cold and wet, thrust Denoriel's hat onto his head, cocked it at the right angle, adjusted the plume, and tenderly tucked the long ears into shelter under it.
    "Do you know what I am?" Denoriel whispered.
    He was holding back tears as he contemplated needing to bring the child to Elfhame Logres and subjecting him to the torture of having his memories destroyed. That was a dangerous thing, even with the best of the healers and a Magus Major working together. Too many memories might be lost. The child's mind could be damaged.
    His vision had cleared and he saw FitzRoy's smile. "Of course," the boy said. "You're my fairy knight, my guardian. The Elf-Queen must have sent you to protect me. She's supposed to like little boys."
    Denoriel nearly fainted with relief, clutching the boy in his arms for a long moment, indifferent to the wet from FitzRoy's clothing soaking into his own. Then he held the child at arms length and smiled broadly at the innocent face so near his own. Harry had found the perfect concealment. If the child said he had a fairy guardian, everyone would think it just a childish fancy. No one would argue that it was impossible or laugh at him so that he would try to defend his assertion with facts that might betray the truth. The adults who cared for him, particularly the nurse who told him fairy tales, would hide their smiles and nod. To be a fairy guardian was safe.
    "I knew who you were the very first day when you knelt down to speak to me and kiss my hand," the boy continued, bright-eyed with happiness. "No one else ever did that; they just talked down at me, laughing inside when they called me 'Your Grace.' I saw your eyes. They aren't people eyes. Nurse told me about the fairies, only she calls them the Fair Folk, how they take care of children, how the fairy knights drive away nightmares and hobgoblins, and how sometimes a fairy knight will be guardian to a child if his Queen sends him—"
    Mwynwen had been right to call him careless and to urge him always to wear a hat. Apparently he had forgotten to invoke his disguise the day he had first come with George Boleyn to meet Harry. And the nursery stories—a lucky accident . . . or Dannae was supporting him more openly than usual—were why the child had accepted him so easily, so quickly.
    "Is there someone who is cruel to you, Harry?" Denoriel asked anxiously.
    The boy considered Denoriel's question and looked a bit shamefaced. "No," he admitted. "Norfolk means well. He really does, even when he shouts and gives orders that spoil things." He sighed. "And Henry can't help being seven years older so he wins all the time. And I love Mary . . . even if she is a girl. But—but you came to me . You came to me when the others weren't near, so I knew you were my fairy knight in particular. Was it because of my father that you came?"
    "You're quite right about that," Denoriel said, finally finding the strength to get to his feet. "I'm your fairy knight and I was sent by our Queen to watch over you." What a relief! He didn't even have to lie, which the child might have sensed. "I was sent because—" now what was he to say? "—because you needed me, and because of your royal blood." He winked, and FitzRoy smiled wanly back. The boy already knew about the privileges of rank, even in the sinister line; he found nothing unusual that the elven Queen should send one of her knights to guard the offspring of the mortal king. In his world, kings and queens, when they were not at war, exchanged such courtesies as a matter of course.
    He started to reach for FitzRoy's hand and realized he was still clinging to his unsheathed sword.