In Honor Bound by DeAnna Julie Dodson Page B

Tom asked leaning in the doorway, too sleepy to stand unsupported. He still wore the clothes he had worn the day before, and his face was pale under the dark late-morning stubble of his beard. "How is Philip?"
    "Much improved, my lord," Rafe said, with a encouraging smile that did not acknowledge Palmer's scowl. "Forgive me disturbing your rest, but he sent me for you."
    Tom's expression brightened. "He wants to see me?"
    "He does. Go to him, my lord, please. Your father is with him now. After the death of Lord John, they will both need you."
    "My father, too?" Tom looked reproachfully at Palmer. "When did he arrive?"
    "Not an hour ago, my lord," Palmer said, then he frowned again. "My lord, you've not slept well in days. You'd only just dropped off when the news came that the king was here. I could not bring myself to–"
    "Never mind now, just come in here. I need some fresh clothes and to be shaved." He sighed heavily then turned to Rafe. "I will be there."
    Just then Livrette rushed in to the corridor. "My lord, forgive me disturbing your rest, but the king has dismissed me, and he was in such a temper I fear he will endanger my lord Philip's recovery."
    Tom rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and yawned. "I shall go now, then. Never mind the shave. You had best come along, Rafe, to see to Philip. And you, too, Palmer. I know you will anyway."
    ***
    Tom shook his head sorrowfully as they walked to Philip's chamber, fully expecting to find his father and brother at each other's throats. Even John's death, it seemed, could not soften the tension between them.
    His heart lurched to see Philip unconscious in his father's arms, his face deathly pale and bloody. Robert's face, too, was pale and bloody, but the pallor came from fear and the blood was not his own.
    The king was still rambling wildly, filling Philip's insensible ears with excuses and calling on every saint he could name to revive him, when Tom came up behind him and put one hand on his shoulder.
    "Father."
    Robert's head jerked up.
    "I've killed him," he said, his ghostly voice sending a chill through Tom's heart. Tom dropped to one knee and put two fingers on the side of Philip's throat, then he breathed a little easier for the steady throbbing he felt there.
    "Philip," Tom said, shaking him sharply, but there was no response.
    "I've killed him," Robert repeated, displaying his blood-smeared hand as proof.
    "Let us take him, my liege," Livrette coaxed, sliding one arm under Philip's shoulders, but Robert only held him more tightly.
    "You must let them tend to him," Tom told him.
    With Palmer's help, he pried his father's fingers away. Rafe and Livrette lifted Philip up onto the bed, and the physician began to wash the blood from his patient's face, wise enough to keep his indignation to himself.
    Tom helped his father stand, intending to lead him from the room, but Robert struggled again to go to Philip's side.
    "Philip–"
    "No," Tom insisted, and he and Palmer held the king back. "You must leave them alone, or he truly will die."
    "He lives yet?" Robert asked, seizing Tom by the upper arms. "I did not kill him?"
    Tom squirmed under the vise-like pressure. "No. He is alive still."
    It took a moment for the words to sink in, then the king dropped his hands helplessly to his sides.
    Tom urged him towards the door. "Let us leave them to their work."
    "Tom, you must understand–"
    "It does not matter now, Father," Tom said, feeling sudden weariness wash through him. "If you will, I think it would be best if you rested from your journey. No doubt you are tired. I know I am."
    Robert looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. "You look as if you've not slept." He brushed his fingers across Tom's rough cheek. "Or been shaved."
    "I will, Father, as soon as I take you to your rooms."
    "You will see that he is well as soon as possible?" Robert asked, abruptly recovering his authoritative tone, and Livrette managed a deferential nod.
    "Everything will be done