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Boone turns toward his father and wraps both hands around his.

“Dad,” he whispers.

The silence stretches before Boone looks at me again.

“Take me instead.”

For a moment, I’m not certain I heard him correctly.

Behind the bars, his father stiffens.

“Boone, no!”

He ignores him.

“I’ll stay in his place.”

“No! I won’t allow it.”

“Please.”

Boone releases his father’s hands and takes another step toward me. He’s close enough now that I can see the color draining from his face as he begs for his father’s life.

“He’s sick. He shouldn’t be here.”

His father grips the bars hard enough to rattle the door.

“I’m old, Boone! I’ve lived my life!”

Boone keeps talking, the words coming faster now.

“He can’t survive up here. You don’t understand. He just started getting better. He made the trip to the fair because I finally convinced him he was strong enough. He isn’t supposed to be here. He got lost.”

His voice breaks.

“Please.” He looks away. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

The old man slams one hand against the bars.

“Boone!”

Boone keeps his eyes on the stone floor. His shoulders are rigid. His hands clench at his sides until his knuckles turn white.

He’s offering himself. Every thought I had before those words left his mouth is suddenly gone.

I look at the old man.

Then at his son.

For twelve years, I’ve protected the silence of this castle from everyone who might disturb it. Now, standing in the middle of the tower with Boone in front of me, I find myself considering giving part of it up.

“You’ll take his place?”

I make certain every word is clear.

He still won’t look at me. His eyes stay fixed on the floor. For several seconds, the only sounds in the corridor are the ticking of a clock somewhere deeper inside the castle and his uneven breathing.

Then he nods.