As Kelson took the pages Istelyn offered, the bishop bowed and backed off a few paces, unwilling to meet the young monarch’s eyes any longer. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Kelson scanned the top sheet, his lips compressing in a thin, white line as he read. The gray eyes grew colder by the second as he flicked over the too-familiar seal at the bottom of the page and then skipped to the second sheet.

His face blanched as he read, and it was with a visible control of emotion that he kept his hands from crumpling the parchment then and there. Veiling the icy Haldane eyes beneath long lashes, he began to bend the parchment sheets into a fat roll, not looking up as he spoke.

“Leave us, please—all of you.” His voice was chill, deadly, not to be disobeyed. “And Istelyn, you are to speak of this to no one until we give you leave. Is that clear?”

Istelyn paused to bow as he moved toward the doorway. “Of course, Sire.”

“Thank you. On second thought, Morgan and Father Duncan, please stay.”

The pair had been moving toward the doorway with the others, but paused to exchange puzzled glances before turning to regard their undoubtedly distressed sovereign lord. Kelson had turned his back on the departing lords and stood rising up and down slightly on the balls of his feet, tapping the roll of parchment lightly against the palm of his left hand.

Morgan and Duncan returned to stand expectantly by their former places, but when Nigel paused as though to join them, Duncan lifted a restraining hand and shook his head. Morgan, too, moved as though to bar the way, and with a resigned shrug Nigel turned on his heel to follow the others from the pavilion. His departure left only the three of them within the blue canvas walls.

“Are they all gone?” Kelson whispered. He had not moved during the silent exchange with Nigel, and his only movement now was the slight tap-tap of the parchment roll against his hand—that and his controlled breathing.

Duncan raised an eyebrow at Morgan and glanced again at the king.

“Yes, they’re gone, Sire. What is it?”

Kelson turned to eye both of them, the gray Haldane eyes lighting with a fire the two men had not seen since Brion’s time. Then he half-crumpled the parchment sheets and flung them to the floor in disgust.

“Go ahead, read them,” he blurted, turning then to fling himself across his bed on his stomach. He slammed a lean fist into the mattress with all his might.

“Damn those bishops to thrice-cursed perdition, what are we to do? My God, we are undone!”

Morgan blinked at Duncan in blank amazement, then moved closer to the king in concern as Duncan retrieved the discarded documents.

“Kelson, what is it? Tell us what has happened. Are you all right?”

With a sigh, Kelson rolled over to prop himself on his elbows and gaze up more blandly at the pair, the anger in his eyes now damped to a slight, cold fire.