“I remember the Duke of Corwyn from many years ago,” she murmured. “Richard thought him among the most promising of the squires at court—an expectation more than fulfilled, I think, for it is said you owe him your crown.”
“And my life, several times over,” Kelson said.
“And I have heard of the Duke of Cassan—and his father,” Sivorn went on. “Tell me, Kelson, did you think you might need Deryni support, to speak with my daughter?”
She was still smiling as she said it, but Kelson found himself dropping his gaze.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I mostly have vague recollections of playing together, as small children. But that was a very long time ago, and my heart—is not entirely free.”
“Kings’ hearts are rarely free,” she replied, her pale eyes searching his face. “Nor are queens’. But Haldanes have always known their duty.”
He nodded mutely.
“Araxie is waiting for you in the next room,” Sivorn said quietly. “I shall remain here with your companions.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Search, and seek, that she may be made known unto thee.
Ecclesiasticus 6:27
Kelson tapped on the door Sivorn indicated, then slipped inside. Far on the other side of the room, a slight, bright-headed figure was standing in the shadows of the window embrasure, a fringed shawl of heavy striped silk clutched close round her shoulders. A thick plait of pale gold spilled over it, falling nearly to her waist.
Her head turned as he entered, the pale oval of her face emerging from the dimness as she came to meet him in the brighter light before the fireplace, where candle sconces and several lanterns of pierced brass cast a golden glow. There she dipped in graceful curtsy, right hand pressing the silk to her heart. Her eyes, as she rose to meet his wary gaze, were a pale, clear grey, very like his own. She was far prettier than he had remembered or dared to hope.
“You’ve—grown up,” he said lamely, at a loss for what else to say.
“So have you.” A ghost of a smile quirked at one corner of full, rosy lips. “I think we both have changed a bit since we played together all those summers ago.”
He managed a cautious nod, feeling as gawky as any green squire newly come to court.
“You weren’t at supper,” he ventured.
“No, it seemed—less than wise, under the circumstances. I—suppose you’ve become accustomed to having people try to kill you.”
“One lives with it,” he conceded with a faint smile. “Or doesn’t. I’m afraid it’s one of the obligations one accepts along with the privileges of a crown.”
“Like the obligation to contract a suitable marriage.”
“Yes,” he said, after a beat. “You—didn’t you have two braids then, rather than one?”
Her nose briefly wrinkled in a grimace of indignation. “Yes, and horrid Conall used to pull them and try to make me cry. He only succeeded once—and I kicked him more times than that! But usually Richelle would come to my rescue—or you would.”
“I had forgotten that,” he admitted with a sickly attempt at a grin. But he had flinched at her mention of Conall—willful even then—and she looked away in momentary embarrassment.
“Forgive me. I shouldn’t have mentioned Conall.”
Nervously she gestured toward a bench before the fire, sitting on one end without looking to see whether he followed—which he did, but only slowly. She kept her eyes averted as she leaned forward to pitch a few sticks onto the flames.
“I fear my poor mother must have despaired of me,” she went on, dusting her fingers against her skirts as she sat straight again. She was wearing the gown of green she had worn earlier in the afternoon. “Richelle was the proper little princess, but somehow I always managed to get my face and gown dirty by midday. I was forever rescuing some kitten up a tree, or racing about on my pony, or playing with Uncle Brion’s hound puppies in the stable yard.”
Kelson only nodded as he let himself sit down gingerly beside her, acutely aware of his mission.
“Araxie, I didn’t come here to talk about the past.”
“I know that. But perhaps we need to talk about some of the past before we can talk about the future—about your future and my future. Perhaps it only delays the inevitable, but we are people, as well as being royal.”
Her comment made him realize that she was as nervous as he; and it suddenly occurred to him to wonder whether she, too, was having to put aside a longing of the heart in order to serve a duty of blood.
He glanced distractedly at the fire, forearms resting on his knees, twisting at Sidana’s ring on his little finger, beside the larger signet that bore his Haldane arms as king. He did not travel with the Ring of Fire, which had helped seal his kingship; that was safely in Nigel’s keeping back in Rhemuth, should the worst happen and he not return from this mission.
“We’re both bound to duty, aren’t we?” he said softly. “You know that I married once for duty.”
“Yes. Your silken princess—Sidana of Meara. We heard that she was young and fair, and even that you had come to love her.”
He lowered his gaze, trying not to remember all the blood, as Sidana lay dying in his arms.
“She was—very fair,” he whispered. “And very brave. I—can’t honestly say that I exactly loved her . . . but I had made up my mind to try to love her. I respected her greatly, for having the courage to agree to a marriage that should have resolved the old enmities between our two lands. In time, I think a kind of love might have come—or at least a fondness, an agreeable partnership.”
He shook his head, remembering. “But it didn’t happen. I told myself, in those early days after her death, that I had loved her—or at least that I would have loved her, had she lived—and I used that as an excuse not to let myself be pushed into another match that answered only political expediency. And when I met Rothana, falling in love with her was the farthest thing from my mind.”
“She is—quite extraordinary,” Araxie murmured, not looking at him.
Kelson lifted his head to study her profile against the firelight, her fair beauty so unlike Rothana’s.
“Has she spoken much of me?” he dared to ask.
Araxie smiled faintly, eyes averted to the graceful hands folded in her lap. “She has given a most excellent account of the King of Gwynedd, and his honor, and his gentleness, and his need for a queen to rule beside him,” she said. “Of Kelson the man, she has said but little. I think it must be very difficult to sing the praises of one’s beloved to another, weighing hopes of persuasion against fears of loss.”
“Then, she does still love me,” Kelson ventured.
“Oh, aye, there can be no question of that,” Araxie replied, “and shall, I think, until the day she dies. And learning the depth of her love, as it gradually was revealed to me, I shrank from what she asked for a very long time.”
Her fingers had begun to pleat folds in the fabric of her skirt, and she made herself release them and gently smooth the wrinkles.
“But she has proven steadfast in what she asks of me . . . and the wisdom I have gained in these past months of study with Master Azim and others has persuaded me that this compromise may well be a good choice for Gwynedd, given the circumstances. I can only hope I may prove worthy to stand in her stead—if that is your wish as well, my lord.”
As she settled the striped shawl more closely around her shoulders, biting at her lip, Kelson let his eyes close momentarily, jaws clenched against his sorrow as he made himself swallow.
“A king’s duty can be a very weighty thing,” he finally said, choosing his words carefully. “And yet, I would not have you think that any reluctance on my part comes from any failing on yours. Rothana has—made the decision she has made—with what she believes is a far greater good in mind than the happiness of mere individuals. She has been bred to her duty, as I to mine and you to yours, and it seems this is the path she has judged best for all concerned.” He glanced up at Araxie. “U
nless, of course, contrary to what I was told, your heart is, indeed, linked to Cuan of Howicce, as popular rumor would have it. Or to some other . . .”
An ironic smile touched her lips as she lightly shook her head. “There is no other, my lord. And as for rumor, let us not allow that to color what little freedom such as you and I might have, regarding whom we wed. Cuan is a sweet boy—and if my little brother had lived, I would like to think he might have been like Cuan.”
“Then, you think he does care for Gwenlian?” Kelson said. “After all, by marrying her, he would inherit both crowns if Colman dies without issue.”
“I assure you, the match is one of desire as well as expediency,” Araxie said with a smile. “As for Colman, may he receive his just due, for his callous treatment of the Princess Janniver. After nearly four years, no honest court in all the Eleven Kingdoms will yet entertain any offer of marriage with Llannedd. That will pass, in time,” she conceded, “for some woman or some court will eventually judge a crown worth the sacrifice of honor. But meanwhile, Colman grows no younger, a proper heir no nearer, and Cuan and Gwenlian can afford to bide their time.”
Kelson smiled despite his own predicament, almost pitying Colman. “I see that if you and I should wed, fair cousin, I would gain a fierce and compassionate champion. But justice has been done, in this case—and I was glad to be its instrument in part. Only a few days ago, I gave Janniver in marriage to a far more worthy husband than Colman of Llannedd.”
She cast him an amused glance, truly smiling for the first time.
“So we had heard, my lord. Word of the marriage reached us two days past, and has provoked much gleeful gossip among the ladies of my uncle’s court. Further rumor has it that, in honor of this match, you have created a bold new Baron of Kilshane, who is more than worthy of his royal bride.”
Chuckling despite their own plight, Kelson returned his glance to his hands, slowly shaking his head. “The outcome is, indeed, fortuitous for both of them. They seem very happy. Would that—that our own situation could be resolved so agreeably for all concerned.”
She turned her gaze back to the fire, silent for a long moment, then spoke softly.
“My lord, I will speak plainly, for one of us must. I must further confess that Rothana’s proposition has greatly colored my outlook, these past months. As a Haldane, I have always known that political expediency would govern at least a part of the choosing of my husband, just as you have always known that such considerations would govern your own marriage. If such a match does not produce the grand passion both of us would prefer, at least we are of common stock, you and I, with common goals. And when I was very small, I confess I did adore my brave and dashing cousin Kelson. Perhaps we could build on that.”
He rose abruptly and began pacing before the fire, silent for a long moment as his mind raced over everything she had said. He found himself confused but also gently touched by her clear and simple faith that together they might fashion a life from the shards of what might have been. And as he turned to glance at her, pale head bowed before his indecision, he began to draw upon an inner strength that might just be sufficient to sustain him, if he offered her his hand and crown.
“Araxie,” he said quietly, keeping his gaze steady as she lifted her eyes to his, “in honor I must tell you two things before I ask you a third. First, I can never stop loving her, whatever else might grow between you and me. Having said that, however, I wish to assure you that I would never, ever allow that love to compromise the faith and honor I shall owe to my queen.”
He paused to swallow, fearing to see denial in her eyes, but she only inclined her head in acceptance, blinking back tears.
“The second thing concerns her son, Albin,” Kelson said steadily. “Had—things been different, Albin would have been my son as well—and for that reason, he will always hold a special place in my heart, even though there can be no question that my own sons will always take precedence in the succession.
“Unfortunately, as you are no doubt aware, Ro—his mother has expressed profound concern that others might one day try to use him against me, and for that reason intends him for a life in the Church. I maintain that the boy must have the right to make his own choices concerning his life. I intend, therefore, to make certain proposals to his grandfather, my uncle Nigel, whereby the boy would be restored to his proper birthright. In time, I believe Nigel can be persuaded to agree to these proposals, and I have hopes that eventually she will agree as well. Is this—acceptable to you?”
She nodded, again blinking back tears. “It is a kind and generous thing that you propose, Sire,” she whispered. “His mother and I have come to regard one another almost as sisters, in these past months, and I would welcome whatever role you deem appropriate for her son. He is a lovely child.”
Drawing a deep breath, Kelson turned to face her squarely. “Then, we come to that third thing, which I must ask you, rather than tell you, because it is her wish—and because I know she desires it out of the same love and duty to Gwynedd that I believe you share.” He sank slowly to one knee before her.
“Araxie Haldane, I cannot promise you the same sort of love I hold and will always hold for Rothana, but I give you my word, as king, as your kinsman, and as a man, that I will do my utmost always to treat you with honor, with respect, and with affection. Having heard this, will you do me the very great honor of giving me your hand in marriage, to be Queen of Gwynedd beside me, and mother of my sons?”
Tears were running down her cheeks—and making his own vision waver—but she conjured a brave smile as she placed her hand in his.
“The honor is mine, Sire, so to serve my country, my king, and my House,” she whispered. “And perhaps, in time, if God is kind, we may recover a little of that carefree fondness we used to share when we were children together. I think that would not be deemed disloyal to—to joys of the past,” she added softly.
For answer, unable to speak, he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips, his face averted, shuddering a little as her other hand lightly brushed his head. But then he let himself sag against her knee in sheer relief as her hand continued to stroke his hair, for the deed was all but done.
“I am told,” she said softly, after several seconds, “that at times such as this, it is sometimes customary among Deryni to—share a certain level of rapport. I have been instructed in the procedure, and I am willing to attempt it, if you will be the guide.”
He found himself stiffening at the offer, wondering whether it had been Rothana or Azim who had given the instruction, and knew he could not yet face that intimacy, no matter Araxie’s willingness or her ability. Gently, though, lest she take it as rejection, he lifted his head from her knee, closing her hand in both of his and bending to kiss it again.
“Dear cousin, you truly have the heart of a Haldane,” he murmured, “but I think that might not be wise at this time.”
“But Rothana said—”
“Rothana may dictate only some of the terms of this match,” he said firmly, retaining her hand as he half-rose to sit beside her. “Believe me, I mean no reflection on you. What she has taught you can create a powerful bonding, as she has cause to know full well. But I think it might be best if you and I get to know one another as people first, after so many years apart. Better to reserve that other intimacy for marriage.”
She pressed her lips together and looked away for a few seconds, pulling her hand from his, then bravely lifted her chin to face him again, a tremulous smile on her lips.
“In fact,” she said, “I think I may be relieved you said that. This particular marriage is going to present its own set of challenges, as it is. Best not to take on too much at once.”
He shook his head and found himself returning her smile. “As I said, the heart of a Haldane—and a mistress of understatement. You’ll do well in politics.”
“You may be pleasantly surprised at the schooling I have gotten from Uncle Létald,” she returned tartly.
“Sur
prised? I very much doubt it. I don’t know him well, but my father was in awe of Létald—and of his father. Political savvy is in the von Horthy blood, I think.” He sighed and released her hand.
“That being said, I suppose we ought to discuss the first of the political practicalities, before we part tonight,” he went on, glancing at her. “I—think it wise if no public announcement is made of our intention until after I return from Torenth. Especially after today, it will be clear to you that my mission there carries no small degree of risk—not from Liam himself, I think, for I am reasonably certain of his loyalty, but I cannot say the same for all his subjects. Once it becomes known that you and I intend to marry, it is almost inevitable that you will acquire at least some of my enemies. I should prefer not to have my focus diffused by having to worry about you, when I should be worrying about Liam.”
She nodded, clearly aware of the concerns he had outlined.
“I quite agree. For entirely different reasons, I think it equally advisable to delay any public announcement until after my sister is wed. Not only is she the elder of us, but you will not wish to detract from the importance of the Mearan marriage, and the alliance it represents.” She cocked her head at him. “Which raises another question. Many have speculated that you might marry Brecon’s sister, to put a double Haldane stamp on the Mearan alliance. In light of what we’ve just agreed, that obviously won’t happen.”
“Ah, but there will be a double Haldane alliance,” he retorted with a grin. “It will simply involve a different Haldane. It seems that our very discreet cousin Rory formed an attachment with the fair Noelie Ramsay last summer, when she came to Rhemuth for her brother’s betrothal to your sister.”
“Did he?” Araxie looked pleased.
Quickly Kelson related the essentials of the revised Mearan arrangement, and the accommodation he hoped Nigel would accept.
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