"You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't I?"

"Llewell, please - "

"Stay out of this, Sidana!"

"My prince," Morgan murmured, his hand clamping tighter on Llewell's arm, "by your leave, I shall escort this young fool to a place where he can do no one any harm - himself included."

"Now yet. Llewell," Kelson said quietly, "you have found me an uncommonly patient man so far. You may judge the truth of that by the fact that you are still alive, even though your mother treacherously slew my bishop and you yourself claim to stand between your sister and the Mearan crown. Out of concern for the feelings of my bride, I am willing to overlook a great deal. But I will not have your insolence, and I will not have you disrupting your sister's wedding and coronation. Now, are you certain you want to pursue this line of resistance?"

Llewell's eyes blazed with undisguised hatred, but after a few seconds, he turned his head away.

"You'd only use your black magic on me, if I tried," he muttered into the horse's mane.

"What did you say?" Kelson gasped.

As Morgan jerked Llewell around to face them, even angrier than he had been. Kelson moved closer incredulously.

"I - said that you'd only use your accursed powers on me, if I didn't agree to cooperate!" Llewell said haltingly, still defiant, though he winced at the pressure of Morgan's fingers digging into his biceps. "As your Deryni priest did before."

"Are you trying to goad me into an act we'll both regret?" Kelson whispered.

"Llewell, please!" Sidana begged. "For my sake. You can't stop the marriage. You promised you would stand beside me. If they take you away, I'll be all alone!"

Heaving a heavy, defeated sigh, Llewell drew himself up with as much dignity as he could salvage from the situation, though Morgan's hand remained clamped on his arm.

"I see I am also alone," he said evenly. "But I'll not deprive my sister of the escort to which her rank ent.i.tles her. I'll - play my father's part and give away the bride, if it's the proper form you're looking for. Kelson of Gwynedd. But I'll be loathing you for every second!"

"Ah - loathing me." Kelson raised an eyebrow and smiled with relief. "Well, I can put up with that, I suppose, if you do as you're told. Morgan, you can let him go. My lady, I'm sorry you had to witness this."

"Please forgive my brother, my lord," Sidana whispered. "He only means to protect me."

"Sidana, I don't need to hide behind a woman's skirts!"

"Will you shut your mouth?" Morgan muttered.

As he raised a gloved hand in threat, Llewell drew back in alarm.

"Enough, Morgan!" Kelson said. "He's young and he's proud and hurting.

Let's not make those fatal flaws. I will make you one threat, however, Llewell of Meara," he went on, turning the full force of his quicksilver gaze on the Mearan prince again. "I will remind you only once that Morgan and other loyal friends and va.s.sals will be right at my side during the ceremony. If anything happens that isn't supposed to, and it's your fault - anything - I am here and now giving them free license to take whatever action they deem necessary. That a.s.sumes, of course, that I haven't dealt with you first. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"You do," Llewell muttered under his breath.

"I didn't quite hear that."

"You make yourself perfectly, abundantly clear," Llewell repeated sullenly.

"Good. Then we understand one another. My Lady?"

He glanced up at Sidana again, tentatively extending his hand, and to his surprise, she responded. Much heartened, he bent to brush her knuckles with his lips, more confident as he straightened and released her hand.

"My lady, I apologize again. A woman's wedding day should be joyous and free from care. I'm afraid I've started it out on rather a poor note."

"You have done what you had to do, my lord," she whispered, "and I, too, must once more beg pardon for my brother."

"Sidana!"

Ignoring Llewell's outburst. Kelson shook his head. "This is neither the time nor the place to speak further of the matter, my lady. Later, after we are wed, there will be time enough for everything. But for now, the archbishops are waiting - and the people - to see their new queen go to her marriage and coronation. May I give the commands for our procession to begin?"

"Do you ask my permission, my lord?" she said, amazed.

"Of course. You are my lady and my queen."

One look at her brother glaring up at her, hanging on her every gesture and expression, apparently was sufficient to keep Sidana from answering with words, but she shyly inclined her head nonetheless. To Kelson, it seemed more than just dutiful agreement. As he withdrew to the head of the procession where his horse waited, he signalled the knights to bring the canopy - blue silk powdered all over with tiny stars and moons - but his expression was jubilant once his back was safely to the Mearan prince and princess.

"Alaric, did you see?" he whispered, as Morgan held his stirrup and helped him mount, and Dhugal spread the cnmson mantle over the horse's rump. "I think she does like me. Once we get her out from under her brother's thumb, who knows what might happen! Maybe it's going to work, after all."

As they started to move out, Morgan glanced back at the small, lonely figure on the white horse, led to her destiny beneath a canopy of silk; all their hopes of peace wrapped up in one frail girl. He dearly hoped Kelson was right.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

For the Lord delighteth in thee, and thy land shall be married.

- Isaiah 62:4 To Kelson's already heightened senses, the bright-etched images of the procession route were almost overwhelming: crowds cheering, banners rainbow- hued, fluttering above the streets, showers of snowdrops and other winter flowers carpeting his path - and cheers and flowers also for the dark-haired bride who followed. The sounds and the colors carried him higher on a wave of hope, and he grinned at Morgan and Dhugal, riding to either side of him.

The streets were narrow and winding, the procession thick with celebrants between him and his bride, but on the few occasions when the way was straight or they pa.s.sed through a square, he could glance back and just catch the top of her rose-crowned head under its silken canopy. Once, their eyes met, and he almost fancied he could feel the current leap between them, kindling antic.i.p.ation in his brain and a white heat in his loins.

He told himself that he was imagining things, that he was letting himself read too much into their earlier meetings - a word, a glance - but it was not in his nature to hold back, once a commitment had been made. His body was eager to unite with hers already, but he was also resolved to make theirs a union of hearts as well as lands, if he could. He tried not to think too much about the coming wedding night. He was much relieved when they reached the cathedral at last and he could dismount, turning mind as well as body to less physically distracting contemplation.

Archbishop Cardiel received him at the great doors, golden cope and mitre almost blinding in the noonday sun, rich counterpoint to Kelson's crimson and gold and the crown of leaves and crosses. When the two of them had exchanged formal greeting, archbishop bowing, king bending to kiss the episcopal ring, Arilan and Duncan joined them for more casual interchange, lace-lavished surplices immaculate and pristine over purple ca.s.socks, gold glistening on stoles of snow white silk. Kelson accepted their greetings in something of a daze, pulling Morgan to him psychically as he made nervous conversation with the bishops, drawing on Morgan's calm as he shaped his own thoughts into more suitable framework for the sacrament he was about to exchange with Sidana. As the bride's procession began to enter the cathedral yard, king and escort fell into place behind the three prelates and went inside.

More clergy waited just beneath the western portico - the crucifer with Cardiel's processional cross, candle bearers, a flock of choristers - men and boys with fresh-scrubbed faces above the white and scarlet of surplices and choir ca.s.socks - two older boys gently swinging censers. As the archbishop and the rest of the royal party joined them and the procession began to move down the nave, musicians in the gallery above trumpeted a royal fanfare and salute.

Kelson held his head high as he walked, oblivious to the scrutiny of the congregation, eyes focused on the roundel on the back of Cardiel's cope. He recognized the choir's anthem as a solemn ?? Deum. Flanking him, he could feel the solid, rea.s.suring presence of both Morgan and Dhugal: Morgan his usual pillar of bolstering calm, Deryni senses extended just slightly to give Kelson psychic substance to lean against - but even Dhugal seemed somehow more solid, more confident, almost Deryni himself in the steadiness of his presence, either not feeling or not minding the distracted but curious feather touches that Kelson sent fleetingly in his direction.

They crossed the transept, pa.s.sing directly over the Camber seal, and Kelson briefly wondered what the Deryni saint would have thought of what he was about to do. As he recalled. Camber had arranged a marriage between his own ward and Cinhil Haldane, even before the Restoration. The name of Cinhil's eventual queen escaped him, but he toyed with the notion that she might have been crowned with the same golden coronet resting on the alter before them, shimmering in the light of the altar candles. He eyed it wistfully as he followed the bishops into the choir to approach the altar steps, also taking in the wedding guests standing in the choir stalls.

Nigel and Meraude held the places of honor to his right, closest to the altar, they and their three sons ranged along the front row of stalls. Others filled in behind them and on the other side: Ewan and Deny, Jodrell, Saer de Trah-eme - all the senior members of his court - their faces reflecting all the varied expectations of the marriage. Just before Kelson reached the altar steps, he caught Nigel's quick smile of rea.s.surance, the fond, approving nod of his aunt.

Lord, forgive me if I approach Thy altar with reservations in my heart, Kelson prayed, as he paused behind the bishops at the foot of the steps and bent his knee to the Divine Presence. Let me love the woman I am about to marry - and let her love me. And help me to be a wise and compa.s.sionate husband to her.

Then the bishops were turning to face him in antic.i.p.ation, he and his supporters shifting slightly to the right to turn and await the bridal procession. In the loft above the western doors. Kelson caught the glint of the trumpets being raised again - silvery notes sounding Sidana's fanfare this time, sweet and lingering. The choir began to sing a Psalm to greet a queen.

As the doors opened outward to reveal her, she seemed for an instant to be floating on a cloud of sunshine, so light that she might have drifted away, were it not for the anchor of her hand on her brother's arm. As the canopy moved slowly inside, she and Llewell following under its splendor, the white roses on her hair seemed to glow with a light of their own, lending her an almost Deryni nimbus in Kelson's Sight.

O G.o.d, she wears peace like a mantle! he thought, watching her approach him, eyes demurely downcast. He hardly even saw the tight-lipped Llewell, or Richenda and the other attendants following behind.

Please, Lord, let it be peace between the two of us, as well as our lands. I don't want to have to kill her people. I don't want to have to kill anyone else. I want to create life, not death. Please, Lord....

Then she and Llewell were genuflecting at the foot of the altar steps, mounting the steps to stand beside him, Llewell scowling between them. Flanked by Arilan and Duncan, Cardiel waited for the canopy to move into position, setting apart the place where the marriage rite would be performed. Morgan and Dhugal remained just outside the canopy, Richenda and the other attendants ranged to the other side, as Cardiel read from the Ma.s.s book, addressing the pale, attentive king.

"Kelsonus, Rex Gwyneddis, vis accipere Sidanam hie praesentem, in tuam legitimam uxoremjuxta ritum sanc-tae Matris Ecclesiae?"

Kelson, King of Gwynedd, wilt thou take Sidana, here present, to thy lawful wife according to our Holy Mother, the Church?

"Volo," Kelson breathed, not daring to glance in her direction. I will.

Bowing gravely, Cardiel turned his attention to the bride, asking her the same question.

"Sidana, Princepessa Mearae, vis accipere Kelsonum, hie praesentem, in tuum legitimum maritum juxta ritum sanctae Matris Ecclesiae?"

Holding his breath. Kelson allowed his glance to flick just slightly to his left, past the tight-jawed Llewell to his bride. Part of her glossy hair fell like a curtain over her right cheek, so that he could not see her eyes, but after only a slight hesitation her lips parted.

"Volo," she whispered.

Kelson could almost hear Llewell's mental moan of despair, but he forced himself not to read it further. The boy was bred to duty, even as Kelson was. What purpose, for Kelson to disturb the calm which should be his own as he exchanged this sacrament of marriage with his future queen?

"Who giveth this woman in marriage?" Cardiel asked.

Woodenly, Llewell placed his sister's right hand in the archbishop's, only allowing himself a cold glance in Kelson's direction as he stepped back a pace. As Cardiel joined Sidana's cold, slightly clammy hand to her bridegroom's, Kelson permitted himself a tiny sigh of relief.

"Repeat after me," Cardiel said. "I, Kelson, take thee, Sidana..."

"I, Kelson, take thee, Sidana," Kelson said steadily.

"To my lawful wife..."

"To my lawful wife..."

His eyes were riveted on her face as he repeated the ancient formula, not daring to use his Deryni abilities for fear of what he might read there, but increasingly hopeful at the warmth he thought he sensed. Only as he finished did she raise her eyes to his for just an instant - and what pa.s.sed between them then was like a flash of summer lightning, bright and hot, surging into every nerve and sinew.

The dark eyes were quickly lowered - had she felt it, too? - but the sensation lingered as she repeated her own part of the vows, her voice as cool and still as the sacred well at Candor Rhea, the ripples of her words stirring hope and even gentle promise of what might be. Kelson kept her hand in his when she had done, and she did not flinch or try to pull away as they looked back to Cardiel for the blessing of the ring.

But it was Duncan's hand that produced it, and Arilan's that blessed it, sprinkling it with holy water and then pa.s.sing it through incense smoke with a special prayer. An artisan of Arilan's acquaintance had wrought it of Ca.s.sani gold - a Deryni craftsman of Camberian Council connections, the bishop had confided to Kelson alone, in a rare moment of candor about that particular aspect of his own life. On a flat, oval facet pared from the curve along the top, the man had etched a delicate Gwynedd lion, the eyes set with tiny rubies - fitting token to seal a new queen to her lord and land. Kelson's hand was trembling only a little as he recited the words after Duncan, slipping the ring briefly over the tips of thumb, forefinger, and middle finger before ending with her ring finger.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen."

Cardiel joined their inside hands then, binding them ritually with the stole from Duncan's neck, all three bishops laying their hands on the joined ones as Cardiel p.r.o.nounced his confirmation of the marriage vows: "Ego conjungo vos in matrimonium: In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritis Sancti."

In that holy moment, lulled by the great "'Amen" chanted and embellished by the choir, no thought of danger entered Kelson's mind. Head bowed and eyes closed, hand locked to his bride's, he was too intent on savoring the fullness of his new estate to sense Llewell's heartsick shift from thought to deadly action.

Only as Sidana gasped and was half jerked from his grasp did he become aware - far too late to prevent it! Far too late for anyone to prevent it! With his hand tangled in the stole binding him to Sidana, he could not whirl in time to stop Llewell - or the deadly little knife the Mearan prince inexplicably produced from somewhere. The lightning flash this time was bright-honed steel glinting in the candlelight, dyed by a pluming shower of crimson as Llewell slashed it across his sister's throat in a single desperate stroke.

It seemed to Kelson that everyone but Llewell was encased in thick honey, moving far too slowly to do anything but gape in horror at Llewell's ghastly act.

Even the blood fountaining from the victim's mortal wound seemed to hang suspended in s.p.a.ce, Sidana's lips frozen in a silent O, the light in the brown eyes already fading as Kelson's scream echoed in the cathedral, both physical and psychic: "Nonononononononono...!"

Then all at once, everyone was moving. Shouts of outrage and dismay ripped the silence as Dhugal and the knights who had held the canopy swarmed over Llewell and dragged him to the floor, trying to avoid his knife - trying to keep him from turning it on himself. Kelson, stunned almost past function by the senseless horror of the act, caught the sinking Sidana to his breast and eased her to the floor, one futile hand clamped to the awful wound in her throat even as his eyes sought Morgan and Duncan and his mind screamed for them to save her.

Blood gushed from her throat as they crowded around her, drenching the blue of her gown and pooling in the hair spread under her head like a cloak, staining the white roses. Duncan's white surplice turned red almost in the blink of an eye, his and Morgan's hands slick with her blood as they tried to staunch her wound.

"Don't kill him!" Arilan commanded, as Dhugal and the knights finally brought Llewell under control and yanked him to his feet, battered and bruised.

"That satisfaction is for another!"

Still Morgan and Duncan fought to save the mortally wounded princess.

Kelson staring numbly at the blood, Cardiel finally summoning the initiative to begin shepherding horrified witnesses out of the choir, Arilan a.s.sisting. The two Deryni continued their feverish efforts for yet a few more minutes, until finally Morgan looked up at Kelson and shook his head, b.l.o.o.d.y hands lifted in a vanquished, futile gesture. Duncan murmured a silent prayer for Sidana's soul, making the sign of the Cross over her b.l.o.o.d.y forehead, then sighed and also raised his eyes to Kelson's. His once white surplice was drenched with her blood, his hands red with it, and he could only look up at Kelson helplessly, unable to offer any solace.

"Kelson, we tried," he whispered. "G.o.d help us, how we tried! But it happened so fast - she lost so much blood, so quickly...."

Before Kelson could respond, Morgan's glance flicked to the panting, triumphant Llewell, b.l.o.o.d.y himself from his rough handling, standing on wide- spraddled legs in the midst of the hard-eyed knights, Dhugal with the b.l.o.o.d.y dagger in his hand. In a single motion, Morgan was on his feet and seizing Llewell by the throat of his tunic, wrenching him downward, grey eyes as cold and brittle as an ice-filled sea.

"On your knees before your king, Mearan excrement!" he muttered between clenched teeth. "What kind of animal would slay his own sister on her wedding day?"

"Morgan, don't kill him!" Kelson snapped, turning a colorless face toward the two of them and raising a hand to stay Cardiel's alarm. "It's clear what he's done. I want to know why." He turned the full intensity of his Haldane gaze on the captive prince, though he did not move from his crouched position beside his bride.

"I'm waiting for an answer, Llewell. Why Sidana? Why didn't you go for me? You had the chance."

The cords of Llewell's neck were knotted with tension, but he did not flinch from Kelson's stare.

"Kill a Deryni?" He spat contemptuously and glared at Morgan and Duncan. "They would have stopped me, somehow. And even if they hadn't, and I'd killed you, it wouldn't have saved Sidana from a Haldane marriage. He would have been king after you," he jerked his chin toward the shocked Nigel, standing directly behind Kelson, "and he has three greedy little sons. I didn't want my sister besmirched by Haldane hands."

Kelson started to rise at that, anger beginning to smoulder away the grief, but Duncan grapped his sleeve and stopped him.

"Kelson, no!"

"If you don't intend to kill him, then give me the pleasure!" Morgan muttered, a stilleto appearing in his hand as he twisted Llewell's collar tighter and glanced beseechingly at the king.

"No!" Cardiel interjected. More boldly than Kelson had ever seen him, the archbishop grabbed Morgan's wrist and put himself between the prisoner and the king. "Let there be no more bloodshed in this house of G.o.d! Couldn't you have let it be, Llewell?" he added, shaking his head in pity as Morgan released the Mearan's throat and put away his blade. "She would have been Queen of Gwynedd as well as Meara. It could have ended almost a century of bloodshed.

Do you realize what you've done?"

"I've given my brother back the chance to take his crown," Llewell said doggedly. "With another Meara-Haldane alliance, his claim always would have been in doubt. Let the King of Gwynedd find another queen. My sister was meant for a better mate. She is with the angels now."

"And you shall see her nevermore," Arilan said quietly, joining Cardiel.

"There's a special place in h.e.l.l reserved for murderers, Llewell."

Llewell only shook his head. "h.e.l.l will be welcome, if I've saved my sister from what you had planned for her, Bishop. Better she die than be queen to a curst Deryni king."