“Attend me.” Rinaldo swept past Danilo. Four armed Guardsmen followed them both.

It could not be true, Danilo thought desperately. No matter what Rinaldo said, Regis would never consent.

They had not gone very far when Danilo realized their destination was the Crystal Chamber. Their entrance, through the massive double doors, reminded Danilo of the many times he had accompanied Regis in just such a procession. A herald cried out, “Lord Hastur!”and a string of familiar titles, but the name was Rinaldo’s.

Danilo hardly dared to glance around the chamber. He kept his focus on Rinaldo’s back, the fur-trimmed blue velvet, the silver links around his neck. Through the hum of the telepathic dampers, he became aware of the waiting audience. His vision wavered in the diffuse polychromatic light. Peripherally, he caught flashes of color, brilliantly hued court dress, jeweled headdresses, chains of copper and silver. The empty spaces were a poignant reminder of the decline of the Comyn.

With surprise Danilo noted a woman, richly dressed but veiled, at the back of the Alton section. He had thought all the Altons gone, all off-world.

One face stood out from the jumble of color and confusion: Valdir Ridenow, his eyes fierce, intent. Gloating.

As Rinaldo’s procession approached the Hastur enclosure, Danilo spotted Regis, sitting not in his usual place but on a bench toward the rear, in the shadows. The silver-thread lace on cuff and ruffled jabot gleamed, but his eyes, his face, remained hidden.

Rinaldo settled into the great chair and Danilo took the position indicated, standing half a pace behind and to the right side. Danilo remembered when he had attended Council meetings as Warden of Ardais, Comyn in his own right. Gladly had he laid down that responsibility and resumed the place where he truly belonged.

Beside Regis . . .

But he dared not even turn his head, not until he knew what Rinaldo was really up to. He would not give Rinaldo a moment’s weakness to hold over him.

Rinaldo welcomed the assembly, using the familiar traditional phrases. Danilo paid them little heed; this was a formality only, the opening sally.

The introductory remarks concluded, Ruyven Di Asturien proceeded to the roll call of the Domains. What an archaic waste of time, Danilo thought, an empty honor. Then he realized that not so long ago, Di Asturien’s daughter had been put forth as a suitable bride for Regis. From where he stood, he could see her without obviously staring. She was sitting between two older female relatives, all of them gorgeously appareled.

A sick feeling crawled up the back of Danilo’s throat, fueled by the certainty that more was planned today than Rinaldo had told him. The elegance of dress, the ritual roll call, Rinaldo’s ceremonial entrance, all indicated a matter that once would have required the sanction of the Comyn Council.

Crystal Di Asturien—No, Regis would never marry a girl who had made no secret of her desire to supplant Danilo in his affections!

In the moment of inner turmoil, Danilo missed the rest of Di Asturien’s remarks, something about how unusual times called for unusual procedures. Then Rinaldo rose, signaling for Regis and Danilo to follow him to the center of the floor.

Rinaldo hung back, leaving Danilo and Regis to face one another. Danilo could not sense anything through the telepathic damping fields. Nor could he read anything in the way Regis held himself or the tautly masked expression on his face.

In a monotone, as if reciting a prepared speech, Regis stated his desire to transfer the allegiance of his paxman to his brother, Lord Hastur, until such time as Rinaldo released Danilo.

Regis! Beloved—b redhyu —w hy are you doing this?

Rinaldo solemnly stated his willingness to assume the obligations of liege lord. Apparently Danilo had no say in the matter. Even if he had wanted to protest, he was too stunned at the moment.

Regis passed a sword to Rinaldo. Rinaldo handled it awkwardly, clearly not a swordsman. Triumph hovered over the corners of Rinaldo’s mouth.

Puzzlement stirred in Danilo as he focused on the blade. It was not the dagger he and Regis had used to exchange their first oaths or the sword that had replaced it. Yet Rinaldo acted as if, in accepting this blade, he had severed the bond between them.

Had Regis deliberately chosen an anonymous sword, one that held no emotional significance to either of them? Was Regis trying to tell him that the ceremony was a sham, that he had been forced into it? That in his heart nothing had changed?

Danilo clung to that hope as one of the Guardsmen brought out a second sword, this one tied into its scabbard with stout leather thongs in such a way it could not be drawn.

Rinaldo held out the second sword. “Bear this in my service.”

Trembling took hold of Danilo’s muscles. He knew he must not falter but stand firm, head up, spine straight, face composed. He had not felt like this since that horrendous time when he had been a cadet. Driven to desperation, he had struck Dyan Ardais, an officer and his Cadet Master. For that offense, he had been dismissed, stripped of rank, and sent home in disgrace. They had taken his sword—not the heirloom his father had given him but a plain Guardsman’s sword—and shattered it. In his mind, that terrible breaking- glass sound still echoed, a nightmare that not even Dyan’s amends and the subsequent years of privilege could erase.

“In your service do I bear it.” The words should have been in your service alone,but Danilo could not bring himself to say them. He might accept the necessity of attending Rinaldo, but he would never, as long as he drew breath, take back his promise to Regis.

His hands closed around the scabbard. Half-blind, praying he would not stumble, Danilo followed Rinaldo to the Hastur box.

Regis remained in the middle of the floor.

Danilo glanced back as he passed through the gate. Rinaldo sat down, his anticipation evident.

“You may sit,” Rinaldo told Danilo, although he meant it as a command.

The buzz of conversation swelled in the chamber, with more than one curious glance directed first at Regis and then at Danilo. Di Asturien walked with stately pace to stand before Regis. A moment later, Gabriel and Javanne, her gown as resplendent as if she were attending a ball, joined them. Two younger women, Lindirs Danilo knew only slightly, came forward as well. They wore matching gowns of pink silk, and one carried a casket ornamented with copper filigree. The chamber fell still. Even the hum of the telepathic damper seemed muted.

The woman at the back of the Alton enclosure rose. The room was so quiet, Danilo heard the rustle of her skirts as she passed the railing. A veil of silky gossamer edged with gold lace draped her head and shoulders. She wore a formal gown of iridescent silver, cut high and loose in the waist.

Walking with almost painful dignity, Linnea Storn came to a halt facing Regis, between the two young women.

Danilo closed his eyes, wishing he were anywhere else, wishing he were raving mad and that the ceremony about to begin were no more than a fever dream.

Wishing he were dead, rather than witness this moment.

Now Di Asturien was speaking the formal words that had come down, barely altered, from the Ages of Chaos . . . the young woman holding the casket was opening it, and Di Asturien removed the two copper catenasbracelets.

Shackles, more like. Unbreakable, eternal.

“. . . and with these bracelets, which symbolize the unseen chains that bind you in wedlock, let the bond be sealed,” Di Asturien intoned as he fastened the bracelets around the wrists of the couple, first Regis and then Linnea. The clasps clicked shut, echoing loudly in the chamber.

Look at me!Danilo pleaded silently. Give me a sign you still keep faith with me!