The Bastard Prince by Katherine Kurtz Page A

carrying this baby,” she murmured, as the maid helped her shed the blue over-robe. “Owain didn’t make me this tired.”
    â€œPerhaps this time my lady is more preoccupied,” the maid replied, as her mistress climbed up onto the bed. “But lay you down and rest awhile, your Grace. Sleep is a remedy for many ills.”
    Yawning again, Michaela did as she was bade, her eyes closing even as she lay down in her undergown. A deep sigh soon told of her shift into sleep, and the maid, after laying the blue over-robe across the back of a chair, came treading softly back to the bed to lean close to her sleeping mistress.
    â€œSleep deeper now,” she whispered, as she laid one hand lightly across the royal forehead.
    Her own eyes closed briefly, and after a moment a faint gasp escaped her lips. She was shaking her head as she gazed at her mistress once more, concern in her golden gaze.
    â€œGod give you gentle rest now, sweet queen,” she whispered, as she withdrew her hand. “Sleep well and wake refreshed. You gave me leave to go and fetch a book of poetry from the library. If you should wake before I return, you also bade me fetch fresh flowers for your hair tonight.”
    The ladies in the solar had gone when Liesel came quietly out of the royal bedchamber, though another maid called Elspeth lay napping in the sunshine of the deserted bay, not stirring as Liesel passed through. The usual guards were at their posts in the corridor outside.
    â€œMerry greetings, Mistress Liesel,” their captain said, sauntering over to smile down at her.
    She had to tip her head back to look up at him, for she came only to his shoulder, but she had the measure of the man and knew this one could be manipulated.
    â€œGod give you grace, Captain,” she said boldly. “My lady is sleeping. Pray you, see she is not disturbed.”
    He stepped aside with a courteous salute and let her pass without a word. He had been one of the more brutish of the regular guards when first she came to royal service a few months earlier, but now he was as tame as a fireside tabby in the presence of this bold-eyed slip of a girl.
    For the name of the queen’s favorite maid was not Liesel at all, nor was she only a maid. Just now, this golden-eyed daughter of the Healer Rhys Thuryn and Evaine MacRorie was also the sole interface between the royal couple and certain Deryni working behind the scenes to extricate them from their indenture to the lords of state.
    Not that either Rhys Michael or his queen were yet aware of “Liesel” ’s true identity or her mission—though she knew, as she headed briskly down the corridor toward a turnpike stair, that this would have to change, and soon.
    The eventual plan had been to gain access to the king and awaken his Haldane powers—a task for which Rhysel Thuryn was one of the pivotal players—then stage a sudden coup such as put the king’s father on the throne nearly a quarter century before, spearheaded by Deryni-backed pro-Haldane forces who even now were beginning to gather in remote parts of Gwynedd. The target date had been some five or six months hence, when the queen’s new pregnancy would have progressed to the point that safe delivery of a second heir was likely—as was the increased danger that the king would be eliminated by his captors, once his dynastic duty had been done. That danger was dire enough to hazard making their move despite its attendant perils—for the king could perish in any attempted coup—but his impending departure for Eastmarch on the morrow suddenly placed him in far more immediate danger, if he must face Torenthi magic without a way to counter it.
    Fighting down a wave of sick fear, Rhysel gained the welcome dimness of the turnpike stair and started down, left hand trailing along the newel post for balance. Not for the first time, she found herself regretting the circumstances that had kept her