Hal has been watching her speak with a kind of wounded, searching look, for which Harry has little patience. His senses are keyed in to another threat, though: the hairs stand on the back of his neck, and he goes stiff with listening.

"Kate," he says urgently, before the prince can reply. He nods toward the door: voices are echoing in the hallway -- one of them belonging to the king.

See, sons, what things you are! Henry shouts. Hal grows drawn, and clutches the crown to his chest.