Morgan smiled. “From would-be assassins and Stenrects—always, my prince. Just don’t ask me to contend with any more of the queen’s ladies today. I don’t think I’m up to it.”

Kelson’s gleeful laugh was almost a giggle. “So! There are things you’re afraid of! I never thought I’d hear you admit it.”

“If you tell anyone, I’ll deny every word!” Morgan retorted. “Come on. Let’s find Duncan.”

IN the Council chamber, all conversation stopped as Jehana entered on Nigel’s arm. The men seated around the long, polished table came to their feet as one, as Nigel escorted the queen to her seat and continued to his own place at the opposite end. They noticed that the two did not look at each other, but that was to be expected. All in the room knew that the queen and the royal duke did not agree on the matter at hand today. It would be a unique Council meeting, for neither was likely to give in without a struggle. However, it was unusual that Kelson had not yet shown up.

Jehana glanced around the room nervously as she took her place beside Brion’s empty throne, recalling other, happier times when she and Brion had entered this room together, and the faces around the table had all been friendly.

Then, she had not felt so alone, so threatened. Then, the dark-stained walls had not seemed so confining, the high-ceilinged vault with its dark-stained beams so dismal.

It was not the fault of the room. There were windows along the entire right side that let in the daylight, to be sure. And what light they did not provide was amply augmented by the banks of ornate candelabra flanking the long table on either side.

Still, the big room seemed dank and depressing. Perhaps it did not like being filled with so many people in the dark colors of mourning.

Jehana glanced at the slight movement of a rivulet of yellow wax oozing along the rim of one of the fat candles as she sat down. At the same time, her fingers automatically sought out the long gash on the tabletop between her place and Brion’s—the scarred spot where Brion had once impaled a writ with his dagger, nailed it to the table until he was able to persuade a balky Council that it was not a wise legislation. She forced herself to look down the table, then, to study the pale, questioning faces that stared back at her as the Council took their seats.