“I hope that you’re not going to try to insist that Bran’s defection was all your fault,” Morgan said in a low voice. “I’ve just listened to Duncan tell me how this could all have been avoided, if only he had been at Rengarth with his father’s army.”

Kelson lowered his eyes, studying a scuff mark on the leather of his wide belt. “No.” He paused. “Bran’s wife and his heir are here in Dhassa, did you know?”

“I am not surprised. Did they come here for sanctuary?”

Kelson shrugged. “I suppose so. There are a lot of women and children staying here. Bran has a manor not far away, but apparently he decided that Dhassa would be safer for them. I don’t suppose he expected how things would turn out. I would like to think that he didn’t.”

“I doubt that Bran’s defection was premeditated,” Morgan said, if only to reassure the king. “No man would deliberately send his wife and his heir into hostage bond if he could prevent it.”

“But the potential was there—it had to be,” Kelson murmured. “And I should have recognized it. We all knew that Bran had great passions—and great hatreds. I should never have sent him so close to the front.”

“I thought you were not going to blame yourself,” Morgan said with a slight smile. “If it’s any consolation, I would have done the same thing and been just as wrong. You cannot be right all the time.”

“I should have known,” Kelson repeated doggedly. “It was my business to know. I am the king.”

Morgan sighed and glanced distractedly at the war council, wishing he could change the subject.

“You mentioned an heir—do you think he’ll give us any trouble?”

Kelson snorted, a sardonic smile coming to his lips. “Young Brendan? I hardly think so. He’s only three or four years old.” He sobered, staring into the flames in the stone fireplace before him. “I dread telling his countess, though. From all reports, she and her family have always been the soul of Crown loyalty. It will not be easy to tell her that her husband is a traitor.”

“Do you want me to come along?”

Kelson shook his head. “No, this is my job. You are needed with the generals. Besides, I have had a bit of practice dealing with hysterical women, if it comes to that. My mother was very good at that sort of thing, you know.”

Morgan smiled, remembering the beautiful and stubborn Queen Jehana, now in sanctuary at a monastery in the heart of Gwynedd, grappling with her Deryni soul. Yes, Kelson had had ample experience dealing with distraught women. Morgan had no doubt that Kelson could handle the situation admirably—and alone.

“Very well, my prince,” he said with a slight bow. “Nigel and I will wind up things here in the next hour, and then send the men off to get some sleep. I’ll send word to your quarters if there’s need of your personal attention.”