With a flash of gleaming steel, the blade descended. And in that same instant, a woman’s scream shattered the silence.

As the blade struck, Kelson rolled clear and leaped to his feet, a wrist-stiletto flicking into his hand as he regained his balance. But as he glimpsed the writhing horror there on the ground, he stopped to watch, spellbound, as Morgan’s blade bit again and again into the creature.

He had a fleeting impression of a bulbous orange body about the size of a man’s head, spotted with blue, of many brittle legs that waved frantically as it tried to scuttle away from Morgan’s sword, of two angrily gnashing pincers or stingers—he couldn’t be sure which.

Then the thing was but a twitching ruin of red and orange flesh, its identity lost in the carnage. Morgan poked it a final time with the tip of his blade, and Kelson at last became aware of the woman screaming—the sound that had continued full volume throughout the episode.

As Kelson shook the immobility from his limbs and eyes, he was surprised to see more than a dozen armed men racing across the garden toward him, weapons drawn, and a dark-clothed woman right behind them. Morgan lowered his sword, still breathing heavily, as the men surrounded him and the prince.

“Drop the sword, you!” the guard captain called out as he deployed his men. The woman whose screams had summoned them half shielded herself behind the captain, her eyes wide with terror.

“I saw him! I saw him!” she cried hysterically, pointing at Morgan. “He was trying to kill the prince! He put a spell on him, and was about to slay him when I screamed!”

“I said drop it—now!” the captain repeated, gesturing with his sword. “Sire, please! Move away from him slowly. We’ll take care of him.”

Morgan did lower his sword slightly, but made no move to drop it as Kelson stepped deliberately in front of Morgan, his back to the Deryni lord.

“It’s all right, Captain,” the king said calmly, making a placating gesture with one hand as the guards stiffened to see him put himself before Morgan’s sword. “It isn’t what you think. Lady Elvira, there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” the lady shrieked indignantly. “Your Highness, you must be still under his spell! He nearly murdered you where you sat. Only my screams caused him to miss the mark and—”

“Madame—” Morgan’s voice was cold, controlled, and it cut through the confusion like a knife. “What I aim for, I hit. And no silly woman’s hysterical screaming has yet made me miss the mark!” With a defiant gesture, he plunged the tip of his sword into the soft ground and left it quivering there, as though punctuating his statement.

The disgruntled guards had lowered their weapons during this exchange, and now, at a hand signal from their leader, resheathed their blades.