«Jathan?» She sank back onto her chair. «Dear God, he can’t be. What happened?»

Shaking his head, looking near to collapse himself, Kenneth braced one arm along the mantel, fingering the cap in his other hand.

«He had begged for a pony for his birthday, but Donal said he was too young». He sighed heavily, closing his eyes, not wanting to remember.

«But Jathan was headstrong, as you know. A week ago, he went into the stables before dawn. He saddled the pony that used to be Brion’s — God knows how! — and took him out into one of the paddocks alone».

«But that pony was steady», Alyce murmured, stunned, «and Jathan is — was — a good rider…»

«Aye, he was — for a four-year-old», Kenneth agreed. «But horses are horses, and odd things can spook them at odd times and for odd causes. No one saw it happen». He drew himself up and made himself continue.

«A little later, when the grooms began their morning duties, one of them noticed the stall door open, and no pony. More annoyed than worried, he went looking for it». He shook his head wearily.

«He soon spotted it grazing on the far side of the paddock, but something looked…wrong. When he went to investigate, he found the saddle slipped under the pony’s belly and — and Jathan…with his foot caught in the off stirrup».

A sob caught in Alyce’s throat as she closed her eyes, shaking her head. «Dear God», she whispered.

«He…must have been dragged for some distance», Kenneth went on reluctantly. «And kicked…several times. He was still alive when they found him, but he — died in the queen’s arms a short time later. The entire court is stunned». He shook his head again.

«They buried Jathan two days ago, beside Prince Blaine. Brion is still on progress in the north, and has not yet been located. Donal is distraught. I think his heart is broken. But he insisted on coming here tonight. I believe he means to finish what he started at Culdi».

«Dear, merciful Lady, I cannot imagine what he is suffering», Alyce murmured through her tears. «To lose a second child so quickly — it is hardly three years since Blaine…And Jathan was so young, nearly the same age as Alaric».

Kenneth gave a stiff nod, acutely aware of the precariousness of life.

«It’s Alaric he’s come to see», he said quietly. «But he’s asked to see you first. I told him I’d send you».

«Will you not come with me?»

Kenneth’s footsteps were as gentle as his voice and his touch as he came and took her hands in his, kissed the palms tenderly. «Not this time, my dear. Go to him. I’ll wait by Alaric’s door».

Wordlessly she nodded and squeezed his hand, letting him help her drape an additional shawl over her fur-lined over-robe but keeping her face averted so he would not see her tears. But by the time she had descended the tower stair and crossed the rush-strewn great hall, her eyes were dry and she had composed herself to meet the man who waited.

She rapped lightly on the door to the writing room and entered without waiting for a response, securing the latch before she turned to look for him. She could see an unfamiliar hat hooked over one of the finials of Kenneth’s favorite chair, which was angled to face the blazing fireplace. She stifled a quick gasp of shock as he stood and turned to face her, leaning heavily on a walking staff.

Even prepared to see him grief-stricken and distraught, she had not expected this. The puissant king who had come to them only weeks before, still powerful and strong, had been replaced by a haggard shadow of that man. His black riding leathers hung loosely on his stooped frame, a heavy dagger on his belt pulling almost painfully at his shrunken waist. His hair and beard had gone nearly all to grey, as had his complexion, and his face was lined by creases and wrinkles that had been mere hints of laughter before.

His eyes had changed the least: still grey and clear, but more world-weary now, with a starker shadow of grief in their depths. His hands were white-knuckled on the carved staff he had used to get to his feet, but he managed a reassuring smile as he extended one hand for hers and merely clasped it tightly.

«So, we are quite the pair», the king said softly. «I, pining for yet another lost son, and you, blossoming with the promise of new life yet to be born».

She attempted a brief, wan smile, but could not gainsay his observation.

«Sire, I am so sorry to hear of your loss», she murmured.

«Aye. Three sons have I lost now». He released her hand and sank back into his chair, looking, if possible, even more ashen. «This string of sorrows underlines my mortality, and makes it all the more urgent that you and I complete our final work. Where is the boy?»

«He is sleeping just now», she replied, a little stunned at his urgency. «Kenneth and I will bring him in a few minutes. I — Sire, you do not look well. Forgive me for saying so, but you make me fear that your need for him might come sooner than either of us had hoped. Is there something I should know?»

He looked away, not answering, then leaned his staff in the crook of his arm and beckoned her closer, again taking one of her hands as she knelt beside the chair. His eyes sought hers urgently as he searched for his next words.

«Alyce, can you forgive me for what I’ve done to you and Kenneth and the boy? God help me, if I could have seen some other way, I would have taken it — I tried to — but even I have not been wholly free of choice. I suppose it comes with the crown. Perhaps our children will be more fortunate».

She glanced at their clasped hands, sharing his sorrow.

«I did not think the King of Gwynedd subject to any other’s choices».

«He is», Donal whispered, his eyes closing briefly, as if in pain. «God help him, he is».

«And what of Prince Brion», she said softly, unsettled a little by his distress. «Is he ready for what is to come? Will he be able to stand in your place when — when you are gone?»

«As well as any king of tender years, and better than most. But that is why I have come to you tonight, Alyce: to make provisions against that day».

«God grant that it may be long in coming, then», she murmured. «Alaric is so young. Surely there were others of Deryni blood who could have served you just as well, who have the years already to work the Haldane magic for your heir».

«There was another, as you know», Donal said softly, barely breathing the words. «By now, he would have been very nearly old enough — but he died».

«I do know, Sire», she whispered, declining to mention the murdered Krispin’s name. «But…could you not enlist the services of some other Deryni?» she ventured, after a beat. «Sir Morian, perhaps. He is said to have served you well in Meara — or so I had heard. Kenneth has told me of his usefulness».

«Not for this», the king murmured.

Trembling, he pulled her hand closer to clasp it between both of his and press it to his heart, gazing beyond her into a realm where reality was different and children were not called to do an adult’s work. Rarely had she felt so at peace and so protected, though reason told her that the feeling was illusory.

They remained that way for several seconds before he eased his caress of her hand to stare down at her again. His eyes held her immobile as she gazed up at him, her heart pounding as though it might burst from her breast, and she could not seem to move, knew herself to be completely at his will.

But then he blinked and shook his head ever so slightly, leaned down instead to kiss her hand. She felt a constriction rising in her throat as he released her and turned his face away, but she forced herself to push it down as she also pushed herself ponderously to her feet. When he did not speak for several seconds, she cleared her throat expectantly.

«Shall I bring him now, Sire?» she asked softly.

«Please do».