Take care of yourself. Take care of Elizabeth."
FitzRoy's hand tightened on his so hard that Denoriel could feel it through all his other pain. He blinked, made an effort that nearly wrung a whimper from him, and saw more clearly. He did not like what he saw. Harry was white, his face slicked with sweat as well as tears, and there was panic in his eyes, the kind of panic a person feels when he knows it is impossible for him to complete a desperately important task.
"He mustn't die. He mustn't," FitzRoy gasped. "Lady Aleneil, he told me that if he were ever badly hurt and not near any Gate, that I must put him on Miralys. He said