She heard him settling back into the chair as she fled the room.

Kennneth was waiting for her at the top of the landing as he had promised, compassion in the sea-grey eyes as he slipped an arm around her thickened waist and accompanied her into their son’s room, where she summoned handfire to light their way. Alaric stirred in his sleep as they approached his cot, smiling a little as he dreamed. His fine golden hair was tousled and a little damp where it curled against his neck, his face angelic in slumber. Alyce bent and kissed his cheek tenderly, then took a candlestick from beside his bed and passed a hand over the wick, flaring it to life even as she quenched her handfire.

The boy stirred again and opened his eyes as she gazed down at him, Kenneth at her side. He looked a little bewildered, and started to make a little whimpering noise, but Alyce held one finger to her lips and shook her head as her husband pulled back the blankets and gathered him up with a reassuring hug. At that, Alaric yawned sleepily and ground a chubby fist against his eyes, one arm going around Kenneth’s neck as he was carried from the nursery in his nightshirt, bare legs dangling. Alyce did not take her eyes from him as she picked up one of the blankets and followed with the candle to light their way.

In the writing room, the king was still seated before the fire, his carved staff cradled in the crook of his arm. He smiled faintly and gave a nod of approval as Kenneth set the boy on his feet to face him. Alaric seemed bewildered at first, and looked questioningly to his mother as she locked the door and made a slight curtsy before taking a place at the king’s right.

«Good evening, Alaric», the king said.

At the boy’s look of uncertainty, Kenneth crouched down beside his son, one arm around him in reassurance.

«Alaric, you remember the king», he prompted, directing the boy’s attention to the seated man. «What duty do you owe to His Majesty?»

At once the boy drew himself to attention and made the king a grave and correct bow as he had been taught. In return, the king gave him a reassuring smile and held out his right hand, silver flashing at his wrist as he turned his palm up. Alaric smiled, too, as he laid his small hand in the king’s great, scarred one in perfect trust, grey eyes searching grey.

«Come and sit beside me, boy. I want to show you something», Donal said, patting the chair and then helping Alaric scramble to a seat half in his lap and half supported by the carved chair arms.

The boy squirmed a little as he settled into the circle of the king’s arms, for the royal lap was bony, and the royal belt bristled with adult accoutrements of infinite interest to a small child. He started to touch one careful, stubby finger to the great jewel in the hilt of the king’s dagger, but Alyce reached out and touched his forehead lightly, extending control. He subsided at once, settling back in the royal embrace to turn awed, attentive eyes on the king.

Smiling, Donal reached around the boy and removed a wide silver bracelet-cuff from underneath his right sleeve. A handspan wide, its only adornment besides the mirror-polish of the metal itself was an angular, stylized pattern of running lions, their legs and tails intertwined. Donal breathed several times upon the silver, then buffed it against the fur lining of his leather cloak. As he displayed it then between the thumbs and fingertips of both hands, Alaric within the circle of his arms, the polished metal flashed firelight into the boy’s fascinated eyes.

«Alaric, this is a very special bracelet», Donal said. «I doubt you’ll ever see another like it».

Curious, the boy craned his neck for a better look as the king turned the bracelet to show him the three runes engraved inside. Alyce could see him trying to make sense of the symbols, and sensed his frustration as he discovered that they were not the letters that his mother and Father Anselm had taught him. Abruptly she realized that Donal had sensed it, too; knew his faint amusement as he caught her eyes in a piercing glance for just an instant before laying a fingernail under the first sigil.

«One», the king murmured.

Alaric went briefly rigid, eyelids fluttering, before his eyes rolled upward and he slid into profound slumber, slumping bonelessly against the king’s chest. Kenneth, who had withdrawn to watch from nearer the fireplace, gasped and took an involuntary step closer, but faltered when Alyce shook her head and half raised a hand to stop him. As he paused, caught between concern and indecision, Donal laid his open hand across the boy’s closed eyes and murmured a few words, which even Alyce could not hear. Power glittered in the fog-grey eyes then, as he looked up and ensnared Kenneth’s attention in an irresistible binding.

«Kenneth, you look like you could use a rest», he said softly. «Have a seat».

Instantly obedient, Kenneth backed up a step and sank down on a small stool near the hearth, completely focused on the king’s every flicker of movement. Watching him, Alyce thought she knew now how Donal had gotten past her husband that night of Alaric’s Naming.

«Now have a little sleep», the king went on, not bothering to watch further as Kenneth’s eyes closed and his chin sank to his chest.

Swallowing, Alyce returned her attention to Donal and heavily lowered herself to her knees, beside his chair. She felt his eyes upon her as she tucked the blanket she had brought around her son, expecting only to lend assistance in establishing the necessary link with her son. But at once she sensed the king’s mind reaching out to hers as well, probing, insinuating itself into her consciousness and beyond.

Compliant, adapting, she let herself relax into that profound trance state he required for what must be done, letting him guide in setting the compulsions that must wait and germinate in Alaric’s young mind, until it should become time for Brion to come into the full knowledge of his father’s vast powers — and time for Alaric to facilitate that coming.

And there was more that she had not expected, for Donal next turned the rapier force of his will upon her, laying one of his hands over one of hers and drawing her deeper into trance. Already poised at the edge of consciousness, she suddenly knew herself to be yet another tool in Donal’s wielding. As he drew her into a deeper reservoir of power than she had ever sensed was possible, she lost consciousness of anything at all…

Some little while later she became aware that her knees were numb from kneeling, that her head throbbed from her exertions, that Donal had withdrawn from their contact, finishing whatever it was he had set out to do. She opened her eyes to see him replacing the silver bracelet on his wrist, watched him press a brief, fervent kiss to Alaric’s temple where the pulse throbbed.

«I have taken the liberty of setting a second set of instructions — in you», he said quietly, glancing at her sidelong. «If Alaric is still young when I die, you will have the ability and knowledge to help Brion to his Haldane powers — though, once I set the block, you’ll remember none of this unless there is a need. I hope you do not think too ill of me».

«You have empowered me with the Haldane triggers?» she breathed, wide-eyed.

«You yourself said it, my dear», he replied, smiling faintly. «It will be several years before Alaric is old enough to do what is needful. In the meantime, my son may need a Deryni to assist him: one whom I may trust implicitly. I have delegated that function to you. God willing, you shall never be called upon to exercise it».

The revelation left her feeling numb and almost violated as Donal turned the focus of his attention away from her. As he gestured vaguely toward her nodding husband, Kenneth stirred and yawned and came to, blinking in the firelight.