Daemon shouted in agony and looked down in shock. Mathias wrenched the sword backward and staggered to his feet, dripping with sweat, jaw clenched. He was shaking. Mayhap with fatigue or loss of blood-or horror at what he had been forced to do.

It was a mortal wound. His face going slack, Daemon stumbled aside, toward the chest in front of the windows, his own blade still gripped in one hand. Then he snarled a curse and raised the weapon again, his features contorted with fury. He hurled himself toward Mathias.

Only to trip on something in the rushes and fall headlong to the floor. He landed facedown-and there was a sound of something cracking as he hit. His face froze in a mask of shock.

Gasping a choked cry, he pushed himself up with one hand and fell again, rolling onto his back.

Royce could see the thick stem of a jeweled glass goblet protruding from the center of his chest at an awkward angle.

And near his feet-it was Ciara's crown that had tripped him.

With a sound of grief and regret, Mathias knelt beside his brother. "Daemon ..."

Daemon lifted one trembling hand.

Instead of reaching for his brother, he grasped at the jeweled stem of the goblet that had delivered the final blow to his plans and his life.

His expression was still one of stunned disbelief.

"Mine ..."

The word took the last breath from his body, and his eyes went sightless.

Mathias bent his head, made the sign of the cross, and gently closed his brother's eyes. He remained silent a moment, as if in prayer, and no one in the room moved or uttered a word.

Then he stood, Royce's sword still gripped in one hand, his other palm coming up to staunch the bleeding at his shoulder. "My lords," he said hollowly. "Prince Daemon is dead."

"Long live Prince Mathias!" one of the nobles called as they all surged forward to surround and congratulate their new ruler. Two of the guards bent to cover Daemon's body with Mathias's discarded cloak.

Royce realized that Ciara was trembling in his arms, her cheeks wet with tears. "Shhh," he soothed as he gently tilted her head up. "It is over. You are safe now, and free. You have just become a widow."

She did not say anything for a moment as he tenderly examined her bruises. Then her words came out in a rush. "Royce, I was so afraid when you did not come back from the Ruadhans. I thought-"

"I made you a promise, remember?" Satisfied that her injuries were not serious, he let himself relax enough to smile. "We encountered some trouble on the mountain, but Thayne-"

He cut himself off abruptly, glancing around, seeing none of the rebels in the room.

"God's mercy, Thayne." Holding Ciara's hand, he turned and ran for the door, pushing his way through the crowd, into the corridor, down the twisting staircase.

He found the rebels in the great hall gathered around their fallen leader. They had moved him to one of the trestle tables and bound his wound with strips of fabric torn from Daemon's expensive tablecloths. As Royce and Ciara approached, Karl looked up.

There were tears in his eyes.

With an oath, Royce released Ciara and leaned over the dark-haired man who lay bleeding from the deep gash in his side. He was deathly pale.

Despite the help of his comrades, his life was seeping from him.

Thayne's eyes fluttered open. When he saw Royce, a hint of a crooked grin curved his mouth. "Always was better with a crossbow ... than a blade," he said weakly.

"Summon the royal surgeons," a voice commanded from behind them, forceful enough to send the servants in the hall scrambling to do as they were ordered.

Royce turned to find that Mathias, heedless of his own injury, had followed them down the stairs. His lords and ministers were close at his heels.

Thayne reached up to grip Royce's tunic, reclaiming his attention. "Did you ..." His green eyes were glazed with pain. " ... get to your lady ... in time?"

"Aye." Royce glanced at Ciara, who stood back from the group, a hand over her mouth to hold in a sob. "She is safe. Princess Ciara is all right. She is here with me."

The crooked smile appeared again. "Then that is ... all that matters."

He dropped back against the table beneath him, his eyes closing, his body suddenly limp.

"Nay!" Ciara cried.

With an anguished shout, Karl bent over his brother, pressed an ear to his chest.

But then the young man exhaled shakily. "He lives. Thanks be to God, he lives." He glanced up as the surgeons pushed their way through the crowd that had gathered around the table. "But his heartbeat is weak."

"Take him to one of the bedchambers above," Mathias ordered, shaking his head when one of the surgeons tried to examine his wounded shoulder, nodding toward Thayne. "This man is to have the best of care. I owe him a great deal. We all owe him a great deal." He turned to the servants. "Fetch bandages, hot water, whatever the surgeons may need. Quickly."

The hall became a flurry of activity as the servants hurried to do their prince's bidding, the rebels lifted the unconscious Thayne and carried him up the steps, and a score of ministers and lords surrounded Mathias again, all of them talking at once.

In the middle of the chaos, Ciara elbowed her way to Royce's side. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair as they comforted each other.

"He will be all right," she said fiercely. "He has to be."

"Aye. And what about you-are you sure you are all right?"

She nodded, her arms gripping him as if she would never let him go.

He lifted his head, gut clenched at the thought that he had almost been too late to save her. "When we first came into the great hall and I did not see you-"

"You were just in time," she reassured him, smiling tremulously.

"Daemon did not-"

"Nay, you were there to protect me, exactly when I needed you most. As you always are."

He threaded his fingers through her hair. God, how he wanted to kiss her. But he did not want to hurt her injured lip.

So he settled for dusting a kiss across the tip of her nose, just as he heard someone nearby clearing his throat.

Tearing his attention from Ciara for the first time in several long minutes, Royce saw that the hall had almost cleared. Mathias stood alone beside them.

"I persuaded my lords that their questions could wait until morn." He sighed in exhaustion, glancing down at the bandage someone had hastily wrapped around his injured shoulder, then nodded in the direction Thayne had been taken. "You have my word that your friend will be well cared for. Our surgeons in Thuringia are renowned as some of the best. We will fight for his life as he fought for mine."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Royce said gratefully.

"Nay, it is I who should be thanking you, Ferrano. You and Thayne and the others risked everything to save me from that prison. I owe you much more than my thanks. And so do the people ..." He paused. "My people," he amended, pronouncing the words as if for the first time, his expression one of wonder as he adjusted to the idea. "My subjects."

Royce smiled. "Let me be one of the first to say welcome home, Your Highness."

Mathias returned his smile, then shifted his attention to the lady in Royce's arms. "Now then, do you not think an introduction to Her Highness is overdue?"

Ciara dipped into a curtsy. "I am very pleased to meet you, Prince Mathias."

Mathias bowed. "I have heard a great deal about you, Princess Ciara" He slanted a wry glance at Royce. "Though you neglected to mention that she was such a beauty, Ferrano."

"Did I?" Royce cleared his throat. "It must have slipped my mind."

Mathias chuckled, his gaze returning to Ciara. "I doubt this lady could slip any man's mind."

"Indeed, Your Highness." Royce tightened his arm possessively around Ciara's waist.

Still grinning, Mathias gestured for them to sit at a nearby table. "There are matters we need to discuss, milord, concerning the peace agreement. It occurs to me that if I am to be king one day," he said slowly, his eyes on Ciara as they claimed their seats, "I will be in need of a queen."

Chapter 21.

The western mountains sparkled like massive diamonds in the midday sun as Ciara rode across the lowland plain, the wind in her hair, spring's warmth scenting the breeze with the fragrances of flowers and earth, her gray mare galloping through the fields.

As Chlons's royal palace came into view at last, its towers and walls little more than dots at this distance, she reined her horse to a walk, then to a halt. She could not seem to catch her breath, watching while the sun painted that familiar keep with streaks of gold. The sight of home filled her with longing, with love. And with uncertainty.

She prayed this would not be the last time she ever saw it.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply of the sun-warmed air, of the beauty all around her, and held fast to her hope. Her father had to agree to Mathias's offer. He had to.

Surely he would see that he had every reason to give his consent. Her country was free. Her people were free. Free from war, from the tyrant who had so abused them. As the news had spread, cheering crowds had turned out in every town and village on the way home from Thuringia.

But she herself was not entirely free.

Not yet.

She heard hoofbeats behind her and glanced over her shoulder as Royce came across the field at a gallop, catching up with her at last. He pulled Anteros to a rearing halt.

Laughing, Ciara tugged on the reins to control her skittish mare. "Keep that great black beast away from my little Merlin," she chided. All the commotion brought a growl from the basket tied to Merlin's saddle. Hera poked her head out from beneath the lid, barking excitedly.

Undaunted by the protective puppy, the stallion pranced nearer, towering over the mare, tossing his head and nickering impatiently.

"It is impossible to hold him in check, my love." Royce laughed. "I think he believes we bought that little beauty just for him. He does not like to let her out of his sight." His voice turned husky. "I know how he feels."

As Anteros nuzzled Merlin's neck, Royce bent down in the saddle and cupped Ciara's chin in his hand, lifting her mouth to his. With a soft moan, she reached up to grasp the edge of his cloak as their lips met in a kiss that was slow and soft and deep. The first kiss they had been able to steal in days.

The satiny invasion of his tongue sent desire shivering through her, but it was all too brief.

Groaning, he lifted his head, and they both glanced back at the entourage of riders not far behind them-Karl and the other rebels, the emissaries Mathias had sent to speak with her father, and the guards and serving maids and other retainers who had been in the wedding procession.

"Five minutes," Royce muttered. "What I would not give for even five minutes alone with you."

Ciara released her hold on his cloak, sighing in agreement. Since leaving Mathias's palace a fortnight ago, they had not been able to steal an hour alone together, much less a night. Though Miriam had stayed behind with the recuperating Landers, there were more than enough maidservants and courtiers with them this time to ensure that Ciara was well chaperoned on her journey home.

"It is even worse than before," Royce grumbled, letting her go before anyone could see them.

"Worse?" Ciara nudged her mare forward and they rode on, side by side, Hera content to rest her muzzle on the edge of her basket and yip at the scenery.

"During our first journey, all I could do was imagine what it would be like to touch you."

Ciara glanced sideways and their gazes met for a long, heated moment.

"This time, I know," he told her in that low, husky tone.

"It will all be over soon," she said softly, turning to look up at the castle in the distance.

"Aye."

"And we will be together."

It took him a moment to respond, and when he did, his voice revealed his uncertainty. "Aye."

Ciara fell silent, not wanting to put her own fears into words. Behind them, shouts of happiness rose as their traveling companions caught their first sight of the palace.

Which only made the uneasy quiet between her and Royce more uncomfortable.

She shifted to a different topic. "I wish we could have stayed at Mathias's palace until Thayne was strong enough to come home with us."

"He will need at least another fortnight's rest in bed, even though the surgeons worked a miracle with their stitches and their herbal potions."

Ciara nodded. "I know, but I hated to leave anyone behind."

"He has Landers and Miriam for company. And I am not sure Thayne would have let us tear him away from his many admirers." Royce grinned. "Every pretty serving maid in that keep seemed to be thinking of some excuse to spend time in his bedchamber."

The Thuringian ladies had been quite taken with the brave, handsome rebel who helped save their beloved prince. "They were most attentive, weren't they? Changing his bandages, cooling his brow, feeding him tea and broth-"

"Seeing to his every need ..." Royce chuckled dryly. "Giving him incentive to get his strength back ..."

Ciara slanted him a quelling look. "I thought they were simply being kind."

"Most kind. I am not sure we will ever get him home, now that he has experienced Thuringian hospitality."

Ciara shook her head, unable to suppress a smile. "Thayne does seem to possess a certain charm with the ladies."

"We men of Chlons are born with it." He reached out to ruffle her hair. "It is in the blood."