Regis stared at the gleaming cylinder. Behind him, Linnea yelled, “Go!” and Danilo hurtled over the railing.

Rinaldo grabbed Regis by the shoulders and spun him around, shielding Regis with his own body.

White fire erupted from the muzzle of the blaster.

Regis could not move. His breath had turned to ice in his throat. The stench of charred flesh enveloped him. Dazedly, he wondered if they had both been hit, or only he himself.

Rinaldo’s body stiffened. He landed in a graceless tangle, almost bringing Regis down with him. Regis caught his balance. Danilo flew past him, racing across the floor to tackle Tiphani. She waved the blaster, firing wildly. Danilo reached her an instant before the nearest Guardsman did.

Pandemonium erupted in the Chamber, people shouting, benches toppling, robes swirling as people rushed about. Gabriel reached the floor, and Valdir as well.

Between them, Danilo and the Guardsman wrestled Tiphani to the floor. The blaster went skidding across the smooth-worn stone. Tiphani spewed forth off- world curses. She lashed out with her fists, kicking hard.

“Uncle Regis!” Mikhail appeared beside Regis, taking his weight as Regis stumbled. “Are you hurt?”

Regis dropped to his knees beside his brother. Rinaldo lay on his back. His colorless eyes were open, filled with rainbow light. Regis stretched one hand over Rinaldo’s face, hovering his fingers over the pale, serene features, searching for a hint of breath and finding none.

The next instant, the telepathic dampers cut out. Laransensations flooded through Regis, a maelstrom of emotions and wild, desperate thoughts.

“Regis.”

He lifted his head and met Linnea’s gaze.

I’m so sorry!Anguish rang through her telepathic thought. If only I’d disabled the dampers sooner, I would have known what that woman was up to!

“No, love,” he said. “None of us could have anticipated . . .” He lowered his gaze to his brother’s features, so still that Rinaldo looked ageless. “Least of all he, who trusted her.”

He turned his eyes away, folded his grief like a fragile thing in his heart, and stood once more. Someone must take charge, see that Tiphani Lawton was properly restrained, decide what to do with her, give orders about the . . . the body.

Around him, psychic currents surged like storm-whipped turbulence. His own feelings—grief and fury and things he could not name—clashed inside him.

I can’t do this.

As if in a mad dream, Regis watched Francisco Ridenow pick up the blaster. Francisco looked down at the gleaming metal for what seemed an eternity, weighing it. A strange, hard light glimmered in his eyes. Then Valdir grasped him by the shoulder and took the weapon away.

A short distance away, Tiphani had gone limp, sobbing in the arms of Gabriel and another Guardsman.

Regis.Linnea laced her fingers, cool and strong, through his. Danilo strode toward them. Their minds linked . . . held.

The roiling insanity receded. Regis knew who he was. What he was.

What he must do.

Regis felt as if he had been hurled down from a great height, certain he would smash into the rocky ground, only to find himself caught in an invisible net. Each strand was gossamer light, the thousand tiny threads that bound his life to those he loved. Together, they sustained him.

36

Regis would not allow Rinaldo to be buried in an unmarked grave at Hali with the generations of Comyn. Rinaldo had never been one of them; the softly green hills of Hali would have meant exile for a spirit longing for home.

“I myself will take him to St. Valentine’s,” Regis told Javanne, “and let him rest in the everlasting snows along with the holy men of his order.”

They had been sitting together in the Hastur apartments in Comyn Castle. With regret he had bowed to the necessity of moving back, although he refused to give up the townhouse. In the next room, Linnea was supervising the rearrangement of the furniture to be safer for an active toddler. Ariel, who had not stopped clinging to her mother since her return, sat on the floor beside Javanne, shoulder touching knee.

Javanne opened her mouth, then closed it with a sigh. The events of the past winter had left her gaunt, her tongue sharper than ever. Although pleased with Gabriel’s reinstatement as Guards Commander, she continued to hold Mikhail at a distance.

“It would not be fitting for a Hastur to be buried at Nevarsin,” she said, “but then, Rinaldo was never properly one of us. He had not the slightest sense of Comyn honor.”

“Let us not speak uncharitably,” Regis said, gentle with the pain beneath her words. “He was our brother.”

Javanne shrugged. “At least some good has come out of this. You are now settled and married, and no one can accuse you of shirking your duty. What is one nedestromore or less, when the Hastur succession has been properly secured?”

“Mama, can we go now?” Ariel moved restlessly against her mother’s skirts. Since her rescue, she had not been able to sit still for more than a few moments. Linnea said that with time and care, the girl might become less nervous, but Regis saw no sign of improvement. He feared she might never fully recover.

“In a moment, dearest,” Javanne murmured. “Regis, will you excuse us? There is so much to do, preparing for the move back to Armida. We must travel while the weather is still clement.”

Regis did not ask if she would miss Mikhail. He rose, kissed his sister on the cheek, and bade her good day. After Javanne and Ariel left, Linnea came into the parlor.

As chatelaine of the Castle and mistress of the Hastur suite, Linnea had set about arranging the sleeping and living quarters to accommodate both privacy and shared family activities. Danilo’s chamber was by mutual accord adjacent to that of Regis, while Linnea preferred to be closer to the baby. Her frank approach to intimacy and psychic shielding had eased the transition, and the three adults had come to a working understanding.

“I cannot say I will miss my sister-in-law’s meddling,” Linnea said, a trace less kindly than her usual manner.

“Javanne is unhappy,” he reminded her, “although I do not entirely understand why. The hardest thing to sympathize with is how relieved she acts that Rinaldo is dead.”

Linnea stood beside Regis and gazed up at him with her calm, assessing gray eyes. “She did not love him.”

“Did she even know him? Did I? Did any of us? Or did I see only a brother to shoulder the burdens I never wanted?”

“My dear, how long will you carry that guilt? It is not your fault that things turned out as they did. Perhaps your choices were not always the wisest, but you made them out of love and generosity.” She did not add that the same could not be said for others, namely Tiphani Lawton and Valdir Ridenow.

For the moment, he reminded himself, neither Tiphani nor Valdir posed any threat. Tiphani had been turned over to the Terran authorities and was soon to be shipped to another planet, Sirius IX most likely, for the treatment of the criminally insane. Dan had let her go without protest; Regis could not imagine his friend’s distress. At least the issue of Federation membership looked to be permanently stalled. The Terrans would be hesitant to meddle in Darkovan affairs for a long time to come.

Felix was making a good recovery and had already begun private lessons with Linnea. Eventually, the boy might need the disciplined community of a Tower, Arilinn most likely, with Jeff Kerwin as his Keeper, but that decision lay in the future.

As for Valdir Ridenow, he had stated his intention to retire to Serrais, taking Bettany and Francisco with him. Regis would rather have seen the girl entrusted to the Bridge Society healers or sent somewhere she might receive help and understanding. Clearly, the current Ridenow lord felt it was more important to forget the entire affair.