“No arguments, my prince,” Morgan admonished, guiding the boy to the door. “You must trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Kelson hung his head. “I suppose so.”

Duncan slipped the bolt and eased the door open. “Here, after Compline, Alaric?”

Morgan nodded. “I’ll send you word of the outcome.”

“I’ll know anyway.” Duncan smiled. “Godspeed, Cousin.”

Morgan nodded thanks and herded the reluctant Kelson through the door. As they walked along the short passage to the outer court, he heard the study door close behind him and felt the reassuring blessing Duncan murmured. It was comforting to know he could always count on Duncan.

Morgan and Kelson stepped into the outer sunlight and were immediately surrounded by soldiers with their weapons drawn. Kelson glared at the men, and they turned their swords away from him when they saw his identity. But Morgan was careful to keep his hands in full view, well away from his own weapons. An ill-timed sword thrust by some well-meaning but nervous guard could end Kelson’s chances for survival once and for all—not to mention Morgan’s own life. He noticed that Kelson stuck very close to his side, pale but determined, as Archbishop Loris strode toward them.

The Archbishop of Valoret was still in his riding clothes, his black travel cloak stained and rumpled from his long ride. But even after such a journey, and in such garb, he was not a man to be taken lightly. Though Morgan was well aware what the man had done to some of his Deryni colleagues in the north, he had to admit that Loris was one of those rare individuals who seemed to radiate that traditional aura of power and dignity that was supposed to go hand in hand with high ecclesiastical office.

The bright blue eyes glittered with the fire of the religious fanatic, the fine gray hair a wispy halo behind the proud head. His left hand clutched a roll of milky parchment affixed with several pendant seals of red and green wax. On his right hand gleamed the amethyst signet of an ecclesiastical lord.

He bowed slightly as he approached Kelson, and made a move as though to extend his ring, but the prince pointedly ignored it. Loris withdrew his hand vexedly and glanced at Morgan, but made no effort to extend the ring to him.

“Your Royal Highness,” he said, still watching the general, “I trust you are well.”

“I was quite well until you arrived, Archbishop,” Kelson said tersely. “What is it you want?”

Loris bowed again and returned his full attention to Kelson. “If you had been at the Council meeting as your duty demands, you would not need to ask that question,” he said pointedly. “However, there is little to be gained by talking around the issue. I have here a warrant for the arrest of His Grace the Duke of Corwyn. I believe that is he in your company.”