I thought again about the first gift he ever gave me. It was a silver crest, his father's keepsake. When he handed it to me, his fingers trembled slightly. It was the last thing of any value he'd brought out of the castle.Right in front of him, I threw the crest on the ground and ground it under my heel."This?" I sneered. "An old crest? You think you're paying off a beggar?"He bent down, picked it up, wiped it clean, and held it out to me again."Keep it," he said. "It's worth nothing, but—""I don't want it." I shoved his hand away, and the crest fell again, rolling under the couch.He got down on the floor and reached into that gap under the couch. It was not a graceful position, completely at odds with the noble he'd once been. He groped for a long while before he got the crest out, blew the dust off it, and put it in his own pocket.That night, after he fell asleep, I crept up, slid my hand into his coat pocket, and felt the cool silver crest.I couldn't bring myself to give it
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