He looked up, blinking, and it wrung me to see that his lashes were wet with unshed tears. “You can speak his name,” he said huskily. “And yet do not perceive that he is why I take the stand I do? My lady queen, but for the Wit, Fitz would have learned the Skill well. But for the Wit, he could never have been thrown into Regal’s dungeons. But for the Wit, he might even now be alive. The Wit doomed him to die, and not even as a man. As a beast.”
