The King’s Justice by Katherine Kurtz Page B

very soul, Meraude!” Jehana went on, sinking down urgently beside her sister-in-law, eyes never leaving Meraude’s face. “You must keep him from the Deryni taint. Kelson is already in grave danger, but it isn’t too late for Nigel—and maybe not for Kelson, either. That’s why I’ve come back.”
    â€œTo—save Kelson?” Meraude said cautiously.
    But Jehana went right on, taking Meraude’s response for an invitation to say more.
    â€œHe must marry again, Meraude—and soon. He needs an heir of his own. And I feel certain that the right bride could overcome the evil in him. Just as you keep Nigel safe from harm, so Kelson’s queen must bring him back to a life of righteousness. It’s his only hope, Meraude. Say you’ll help me.”
    Wistfully Meraude returned Jehana’s eager smile, letting the queen take her hand.
    â€œWell, there are certainly potential royal brides aplenty,” she said noncommittally, “though I suspect Kelson himself will have something to say about a choice. In any case, I doubt he means to make a commitment until after the campaign.” Her smile brightened hopefully. “But would you like to meet a few of them? Several of my ladies are quite eligible. In any case, you’ll probably want to appoint a few ladies-in-waiting of your own. Come and I’ll introduce them.”
    Jehana lost track of the names after the first few presentations, but the prospect of involving herself actively in her son’s choice of a new wife even brought a little color to her cheeks. Many of the ladies were quite young, and eminently suitable.
    She was in growing good spirit until Meraude brought her to a beautiful young woman stitching at a tapestry frame near one of the windows. The woman’s gown was the deep blue of mountain lakes, her heavy, flame-gold hair caught in a net of gold and pearls at the back of her head and circled across the forehead by a narrow golden fillet.
    â€œThis is the Duchess Richenda,” Meraude said, as the woman rose to dip in a respectful curtsey.
    Jehana’s heart leaped into her throat, her entire body stiffening in shock.
    â€œDuchess—Richenda?” she managed to whisper. “Have I not heard your name before?”
    The woman straightened to meet Jehana’s eyes with the bluest gaze she had ever seen, deferential but direct, even sympathetic.
    â€œIt may well be that you have, Majesty,” she said in a low voice. “My late husband sat on King Brion’s council. He was the Earl of Marley.”
    â€œThe Earl of Marley,” Jehana repeated tonelessly. “But Meraude said—”
    â€œMy young son Brendan is Earl of Marley now, Majesty,” Richenda said. “My present husband is the Duke of Corwyn.”
    Corwyn! Jehana let the name register on a mind suddenly gone numb with dread. Sweet Jesu, she is Morgan’s wife! She married a Deryni!
    â€œI—see,” she managed to whisper aloud.
    But she could hardly see as she turned to move on with Meraude, stumbling stiff and half-blind through the rest of the introductions until she could call Sister Cecile to her side and seek the refuge of the little oratory adjoining her sleeping chamber. Prayer brought her some semblance of serenity, but she could not banish the feeling of dull despair that the wife of a Deryni should be so firmly entrenched in the royal household.

C HAPTER T HREE
    For they have begotten strange children .
    â€”Hosea 5:7
    The strain generated by Jehana’s arrival set the tone for the rest of Kelson’s afternoon. Nor was his mood improved by the circumstances dictated for that evening. Already tense about the ritual set for later that night, he could not even escape for a few hours of much needed solitude and relaxation over supper, for even though Jehana had declined his invitation to dine with the court, he felt obligated to sup with her in private. To help keep the