She inclined her head in a faintly condescending nod as Kelson’s eyes met hers, then glanced pointedly at the mailed gauntlet on the steps between them. Kelson could not fail to mark the significance of that glance, and suddenly he was coldly angry. All at once he knew that he must somehow hold this creature impotent—at least until a way of dealing with her could be found.

“What would you in the House of the Lord?” he demanded quietly, a ghost of a plan beginning to form. His gray eyes burned with a cold fire reminiscent of his father before him, and he seemed suddenly to add double the years to his dignity.

Charissa raised one eyebrow, then made him a mocking curtsy. The boy had spirit and a presence surprisingly mature and commanding for his years. What a pity he would not live to profit from it.

“What do I want?” she answered silkily. “Why, your death, of course, young Haldane. Surely you had some inkling. Or didn’t your ‘Champion’ see fit to warn you of that fact?”

She turned to smile sweetly at Morgan, then returned her attention to Kelson. But Kelson was not amused.

“Your insinuation is as unwelcome as your presence,” Kelson replied coldly. “Begone, before you tax our patience to the breaking point. Armed retinues are not welcome in this House.”

Charissa smiled without any sign of concern. “Bold words.” She gestured toward the gauntlet. “Unfortunately, you cannot be rid of me that easily. I have challenged your right to rule Gwynedd. Surely you will agree that I cannot now withdraw until that challenge has been answered.”

Kelson’s gaze darted grimly to the men behind Charissa, then back to the woman. She was trying, he knew, to goad him into the inevitable duel of magic. But he also knew that without his father’s powers, he could not stand against her.

Fortunately, there was a way to forestall the battle for a while and still satisfy honor. Meanwhile, perhaps he could gather his wits about him for the decisive confrontation that must eventually follow. He glanced at Charissa’s men again, then made his decision.

“Very well. As King of Gwynedd, we accept your challenge. And under the ancient rules of challenge, our Champion shall fight yours at such time and place as shall be determined at a later date. I trust that is agreeable?” He was confident that Morgan could easily best any man in Charissa’s entourage.

A flicker of faint annoyance marred Charissa’s exquisite face for just an instant, but she quickly masked it. She had hoped to leave Morgan unharmed for a while longer, so that he might further suffer as the last of the Haldanes met their deaths today. That was not essential, however. What concerned her more was whether Ian actually could defeat the Deryni half-breed.