«My lady, I have lived my life in service to the Crown of Gwynedd, as did my husband», she said honestly, «and I am more grateful than you can possibly know, for this expression of faith on your part. Would that others shared your tolerance and goodwill».

The queen ventured a tremulous smile, awkwardly reaching out to pat Jessamy's hand. The mother she had just lost had been but a few years older.

«Jessamy», she said in a steady voice, «sacred writ tells us that God made man a little lower than the angels. But I think that perhaps you Deryni lie somewhere in between». She glanced pointedly and a little defiantly toward the door. «If a priest were to hear me say that, I should probably be excommunicated, but that is what I believe».

«Then, you are one among few, my lady», Jessamy replied. «But bless you for saying it».

The conversation seemed to ease the queen's grief, enough so that, two days later, she was able to face the emotional trial of her mother's funeral with a serenity beyond her seventeen years, dutifully walking with her brother and his wife as they escorted Queen Gwenaël’s oak coffin into the royal vaults beneath the cathedral and laid her to rest in a tomb of porphyry, near to those that housed the remains of other sovereigns of Llannedd.

But one further duty remained to Richeldis before they might set out for home, and this she prepared to perform with a lighter heart. Her brother Illann was already king in neighboring Howicce, by right of their late father, for the two kingdoms had been separate until the marriage of Colman of Howicce and Gwenaël of Llannedd. Now Illann would take up the second crown as well, as had been his parents' intent; and being already anointed and crowned in Howicce, his accession in Llannedd would be marked by only a simple inauguration and enthronement, accompanied by the exchange of oaths of fealty with Llanneddi nobility. The presence of his sister, herself a queen, would lend added dignity to the occasion.

«Madam, it still seems to me curious, that your brother became King of Howicce when your father died», Jessamy said to Richeldis, as she and a lady-in-waiting called Megory arranged the dark coils of the queen's hair. Richeldis wore the white of royal mourning for her mother — and for the child she had lost — but the fine silk damask of her gown was sumptuous, embellished with her royal jewels, befitting the dignity of her brother's accession. «Your mother was still alive, and had been queen of both realms. If your parents' marriage was to have united the two kingdoms, I would have thought that your mother would then have ruled both kingdoms until she died — and then Illann would have inherited».

«So one would have thought», the queen said with a smile. She held a dark braid in place while Lady Megory pinned it. «But Howiccan law can be a little odd — or perhaps it's Llanneddi law that's odd, since it allows queens regnant. Few kingdoms do, you know. The crowns are now united in my brother Illann, but the kingdoms remain separate».

«That seems very strange, Madam», Lady Megory said. «What if you'd had no brothers? What would have happened to Howicce after your father died?»

«Since Howicce must be ruled by a king, I expect there would have been a regency council, until I had a son», Richeldis replied matter-of-factly, tilting her head before the mirror to inspect her coiffure. «Actually, that son wouldn't be Prince Brion, because I probably wouldn't have been allowed to marry the king at all».

«Not married the king, Madam?» another of the ladies gasped, scandalized.

Richeldis shrugged. «Well, they couldn't have allowed Howicce to be swallowed up by another kingdom, Clarisse — and Brion will be King of Gwynedd some day. It wouldn't have done for him to be King of Howicce, too».

«I — suppose not», Clarisse said dazedly.

«No», Richeldis went on, «a regency council would have ruled Howicce until I'd had a male heir. Of course, my mother would have sat on that council. But instead of marrying the king, I would have been married off to some other likely prince who was not apt to become a king in his own right — and hopefully, we would have had sons. As it is, if something were to happen to my brother and all his brood, I expect that the Howiccan council would reach an agreement with the king whereby the Howiccan Crown would pass to a younger brother of Brion, once there was one, so that Howicce could have a separate king again».

'Then, that explains why you must do homage to your brother», Jessamy said, as she adjusted a gold circlet of Celtic interlace atop the queen's veil. «Because Prince Brion is the next heir after your brother and his sons», she added, for the benefit of the other ladies.

«Exactly correct», the queen agreed.

«But, Madam, what if…»

«Clarisse, don't worry», Richeldis interjected, smiling as she touched a reassuring hand to the younger woman's wrist. «It isn't likely to happen. My brother and his wife are breeding like rabbits, and God willing, Brion will have brothers. But if the male line were to fail, I suppose a regency council could — oh, elect a new king from among their number».

«Elect a king, Madam?» Lady Megory asked.

«Yes. Odd, isn't it? But that's Howiccan law for you».

«Odd, indeed», Jessamy agreed. «But I suppose it's all a matter of blood, in the end».

«Aye, it is».

The queen peered at her reflection once more, pinching her cheeks and twitching at a fold of her veil, then turned to smile resignedly at Jessamy and the others — all, save the two of them, gowned in the bright colors usual at court. Though Jessamy wore the black of conventional mourning, her gown was cut of rich brocade, embroidered with jet and crystal, and the narrow fillet of emeralds binding her black veil had come from the queen's own coffers.

«Goodness, would you look at us?» Richeldis said with a gentle laugh, catching up both of Jessamy's hands and glancing at the others. «We look like a pair of magpies, amid all these brightly colored songbirds! But Illann will thank us for our effort, I think». She released Jessamy's hands and made shooing motions toward the door. «Come, ladies. We must do Gwynedd proud».

«Hast thou daughters? Have a care of their body, and show not thyself cheerful toward them».[8]

Back in Rhemuth, during Jessamy's absence from court with the queen, the father of both their children paid regular visits to the royal nursery, where the boys were thriving. Prince Brion had reached his first birthday in June, and took his first steps shortly after the queen's party sailed for Llannedd. The baby Krispin would need a few years to catch up with his elder half-brother, but he was growing quickly. Given that the boy had lost his presumed father shortly after birth, and his mother and godmother were absent, no one thought it odd that Donal doted on Jessamy's child along with his royal heir.

Seisyll was not there to observe it, being still detained on the king's business in Meara. Nor could Michon gain ready access to the royal children, though he made several low-key appearances at court during those weeks, hoping for an opportunity — and eventually had to give it up. Had the boys been a few years older, beginning to engage in the activities of pages and the like, finding a few minutes' access would have been no very difficult matter; but the very young children of the royal nursery were rarely brought farther than the fastness of the castle's walled gardens, and then only in the company of many governesses and wet nurses. Further examination of Jessamy's son would simply have to wait until he was older, or until Jessamy herself could be persuaded to allow it, regardless of any suspicions the Council might entertain regarding this grandson of Lewys ap Norfal.