King Javan’s Year by Katherine Kurtz Page A

the king and myself does not go beyond this room.”
    Nodding, Oriel passed one hand across the king’s closed eyes, withdrawing then to let the fingertips of both hands rest lightly against the bare right shoulder. Alroy stirred at that touch; but as the grey eyes fluttered open, no pain in any part of their regard, they sought only Javan’s. The fever-flushed lips parted in a relieved smile, and the hand in Javan’s tightened, weak in strength but fierce in joy and thanksgiving.
    â€œYou came,” he breathed. “Rhysem said he’d bring you, and he did!”
    â€œHe did,” Javan agreed. “Or actually, Charlan did—though it was Rhysem who was brave enough to send him. Shall I call him over?”
    Faintly Alroy’s head turned back and forth on the pillow, his eyes never leaving Javan’s.
    â€œNo, there will be a little time yet for him,” he whispered. “Oriel has promised me. But first I wanted to give you our father’s ring and the Eye of Rom. They belong to the King of Gwynedd—and I am king no longer.”
    â€œNo! You are king, so long as you live!” Javan whispered fiercely. “I will not take them while you live, Sire!”
    Alroy closed his eyes briefly and smiled. “Sire. I shall never be that now, shall I? But you must be. Promise that you shall be the king I should have been, that everything we all have suffered will not have been for nothing.”
    â€œI promise,” Javan whispered, bowing his head over his brother’s hand.
    â€œAnd if you will not yet take the ring—which I did not receive until after our father’s death—then at least take the Eye of Rom. It would mean much to me, to see you wear it as our father used to do.”
    To this compromise, at least, Javan could raise no real objection, for Cinhil himself had passed the Eye of Rom to his heir while still alive, just as Alroy now desired to do. Still, Javan’s hands were trembling as he gently removed the stone from his brother’s ear; and tears were streaming down his face by the time he threaded its golden wire through his own earlobe and fastened it. He had given his own earring to Oriel before making the exchange, indicating that Oriel should fasten it back in Alroy’s ear, and the king smiled faintly as he lifted a wasted hand to brush the little hoop of twisted gold wire.
    â€œA prince again,” he murmured. “’Tis better thus.” The grey gaze lifted to take the measure of the tawny ruby now gracing Javan’s right ear.
    â€œOne other thing,” he said after a few seconds, when he had looked his fill. “Something happened to us, the night our father died. Did you ever find out what it was?”
    Javan dared a quick glance at Oriel, but the young Healer was bowed as if in prayer, at least appearing to be oblivious to what was being said. Anyway, if he could not trust Oriel, his cause was lost already. And he did not want to deny his dying brother what little he knew.
    â€œThere was a ritual that night in Father’s chapel,” he said softly, himself only able to recall scant images of what had occurred. “Tavis drugged us, on Father’s orders, but the Deryni were behind it. You knew that Father had magic from the Deryni, didn’t you?”
    Alroy’s eyes searched his brother’s face, wanting to believe, but doubtful. “I’d heard rumors, over the years. I know he always seemed to know when we weren’t telling the truth. Did he really have magic?”
    Javan nodded. “That’s what Bishop Alister told me. He was involved with what happened that night. Also Rhys and Father Joram and the Lady Evaine.” He glanced down, still unable to connect exactly with what had happened—though Evaine had told him, at their last meeting, that he would remember when the time was appropriate. He wondered if that would be today, once Alroy was gone.
    â€œAnyway,