“Don’t go, Sir Thomas,” the king says. “Don’t leave me here with …” He glances at the queen, but he cannot find her name again in his addled brain. “We can play again,” he says, as if to tempt his friend to stay with him. “You like to play.” “Your Grace.” Sir Thomas holds his hand and gently closes his other one over it in a warm clasp. “I need you to tell Her Grace, the queen, that I have cared for you. You said that we should stay with you and we would be safe. You gave us your word! Do you remember? Don’t let the queen behead us.”
