Awkward in the face of Morgan’s silence, Kelson dropped his gaze uncertainly. It appeared that both of them were at a loss for words.

Kelson knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to run to Morgan as he’d done as a child, to fling his arms around him and sob out his relief, terror, pain, all the nightmare of the past two weeks; let the calm and sometimes mysterious Deryni lord soothe away his fears and ease his troubled mind with that awesome Deryni magic. He had always felt so—safe with Morgan. If only he could . . .

But he did not.

He was a man, now—or supposed to be. And furthermore, he was a king!

Maybe! he interrupted himself apprehensively. If Morgan can help me to survive long enough!

Shyly, then, and feeling somewhat awkward in his new role, Kelson lifted his eyes once more to meet those of his father’s friend, his friend.

“Morgan?” he said with a tentative nod, trying to look more confident than he felt.

Morgan gave a slow, reassuring smile and walked quietly to Kelson. He had been going to kneel in formal homage, but he sensed the boy’s discomfort and decided to spare him the awkwardness. “My prince,” was all he said.

Kevin McLain, a few paces behind the prince, could not miss the tension of the situation. Clearing his throat self-consciously, he looked deliberately toward Morgan.

“Duncan said to tell you he’ll be at Saint Hilary’s when you’re ready, Alaric. I’ll—ah—get back to the Council meeting now. I think I can be more useful there.”

Morgan nodded but did not take his eyes from Kelson. So Kevin sketched an awkward bow and hurried back up the main path.

As the sound of Kevin’s footsteps faded away, Kelson glanced down at the mosaic floor of the summerhouse and traced a pattern in the dust with the toe of one polished boot.

“Lord Kevin told me about Colin and Lord Ralson and the others,” he finally said. “I—I feel responsible for their deaths, Morgan. It was I who insisted they go to find you.”

“Someone had to come,” Morgan replied. He laid a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I thought you might feel that way, though. I took the liberty of having the bodies held at the Abbey of Saint Mark. Once this is over, you might want to do something for the families—a state burial, perhaps.”

Kelson looked up wistfully. “Small consolation for the ones left behind—a state burial. Still, you’re right, of course. Someone had to go.”

“Good lad.” Morgan smiled. “Come on. Let’s walk.”

KEVIN McLain scanned the hall quickly from the doorway, then made his way across to where Derry stood alone outside the Council doors.

“Have they gone in yet?” Kevin asked, as he joined the younger man.