«May choirs of angels receive thee… May the angels accompany thee to paradise… Remember me, O Lord, when You come into Your kingdom…»

The haunting orison drifted on the stillness as Marie de Corwyn was borne down a center aisle strewn with the flower petals that should have led her to her marriage bed. Young girls crowned with flowers accompanied the white-draped coffin to its resting place before the altar, each carrying a single red rose.

The catafalque waiting to receive her was likewise strewn with flower petals, and the girls sweetly laid their flowers atop the coffin when it had been set in place. After that, all those in the funeral party knelt for prayers led by Father Paschal.

They laid Marie de Corwyn to rest two days later, in the crypt of the cathedral where her ancestors had worshipped and married and where many of them had been buried. Her tomb would lie between those of two other Corwyn women who had predeceased her: their mother, Stevana de Corwyn, and her mother, the incomparable Grania.

Afterward, as mourners filed back up the steps to the nave, preparing to disperse, Alyce saw Sé hanging back from the others, and felt the brush of his mind as he gazed at her, willing her to look in his direction.

Disengaging from the company of her brother and the king, she went back to her sister's sarcophagus and knelt beside it, ostensibly to pray. Sé lingered until all the others had gone, then came to kneel beside her, laying one hand on the alabaster lid of the sarcophagus. There had been little opportunity for private conversation until now.

«I wish I had known that the king looked kindly on the prospect of our marriage…», he said softly.

Alyce gently shook her head. «That would not have saved her», she whispered.

«Probably not». Sliding his forearm onto the lid, Sé bent to touch his lips to the cool stone, then straightened again, not looking at her.

«Did she suffer?» he asked.

Alyce started to shake her head in automatic denial, then drew a resolute breath. Lying to another Deryni was fruitless, even if intended to give comfort.

«The poison… would have affected her breathing», she murmured truthfully. «Little Isan and Brigetta as well. I — don't know what they might have suffered».

«Dear God…», he whispered, his eyes bright with tears as he lowered his forehead onto his arm.

«Sé, what will you do?» she asked, after a few seconds.

He raised his head, wiping across his eyes with the back of his hand, not really seeing her.

«I'm not yet certain», he said dully. «I had begun to plan for a future that no longer exists. Now that she is gone…»

He shook his head, swallowing hard.

«Alyce, I may leave Gwynedd», he went on. «I don't know that I care to live anymore where our people are so despised».

«But — it was jealousy that killed her, not our blood, Alyce protested.

«Is that really true?» he asked. «I'm not certain. If Marie hadn't been Deryni, do you think Muriella would have dared to do what she did? Hatred was certainly a factor».

«Perhaps. She certainly wasn't fond of me or Marie». After a short pause, she said, «Are you aware that the king offered to give you my hand, in place of Marie's?»

He nodded bleakly. «I sensed that he might. But I don't think that's what either of us wants, is it, dearest sister?»

As he slid his hand over hers, she shrugged and smiled faintly. «Probably not — though he's said that he intends both me and Ahern to marry soon. Nor can I quarrel with his reasoning. Ahern must marry and produce an heir, and I…» She shook her head in resignation.

«Until the future Duke of Corwyn has produced his heir, I am a valuable inducement for the loyalty of some ambitious courtier. I wonder that he even offered me the choice to marry you. But if I cannot marry for love — and I wish there were someone I pined for — at least let my marriage serve the interests of the King».

Sé smiled bitterly. «You have been bred too well to your duty, Alyce. Fortunate the man who wins your hand».

She gave him a wan reflection of his own smile, then looked away again.

«Sé, what will you do?»

«Well, I do intend to go away for a while». He turned his gaze back to Marie's sarcophagus. «I thought to seek counsel of my father, back at Jenadur».

«But — what about Ahern? He needs you».

«Only in a general sense», Sé replied. «He'll have Jovett — and there are at least a dozen other good men, both here and in Lendour, who are eager to help him become the man he is meant to be. I think that his handling of this business up in Kiltuin may well have turned the tide in his favor, to win him his knighthood despite his knee.

«As for needs — I, too, have needs, Alyce». As does our race, he added, in a tight-focused burst of mindspeech.

Both intrigued and caught off balance by this abrupt change of direction, she laid her hand over his and invited a melding of their minds, but he shook his head.

«I mayn't speak of it yet», he murmured.

She nodded, then turned her gaze back to her sister's tomb.

«This touches on your threat to leave Gwynedd», she said quietly. «If you did leave, where would you go?»

«That has yet to be determined», he allowed. «I have taken counsel of Father Paschal, who suggests that a few years' training at Djellarda would be useful; there is an inner curriculum. I might even investigate the knights at Incus Domini».

«The Anvilers?» Alyce looked up with a start.

«Well, some believe they may have been inheritors of at least a little of the old knowledge, from the days before the Restoration», Sé admitted. «Some of the Knights of Saint Michael ended up there, you know. And maybe even some Healers. Of course, that was generations ago».

The very prospect was intriguing. Alyce, too, had stumbled across vague references to such connections, and could readily understand how the allure of possible rediscovery might appeal to the finely honed mind of Sé Trelawney. But to pursue that quest would, indeed, take him far away.

«I shall never see you again, shall I?» she whispered.

«It isn't my intention to stay away forever», he said gently, lifting her hand to press it briefly to his lips. «On the other hand, I honestly cannot say what God might have planned for me. After you have left, I shall, indeed, go to my father for a few weeks at Jenadur — Ahern knows this. In the spring, I may ride east.

«But I shall write when I can; and I promise you that, come what may, you shall see me at Ahern's side, when he is called to his knighthood, whenever that may be. Beyond that… I just don't know».

«Whose hatred is covered, by deceit, his wickedness shall be shewed before the whole congregation».[22]

Another week the king's party remained in Coroth. By mid-October, with Nimur of Torenth having offered a token payment of reparation to Kiltuin town — solely as a gesture of goodwill toward its inhabitants, though he swore that his kin had had no part in what had happened there — Donal of Gwynedd was able to withdraw his troops and return to Rhemuth, leaving Ahern and his council of state in Corwyn to oversee a return to normal relations along that portion of the Torenth border.

Alyce and Zoë returned as well, though they found the rhythm of life at court much changed. Marie's absence was keenly felt in the royal household — and Isan's as well, for his mother rarely smiled in those next months. Prince Brion and the other boys missed their playmate for a while, but Duke Richard's return had ensured that the normal cycle of study and practice at arms resumed. By early November, the castle's squires, pages, and would-be pages had begun to practice for their service at Twelfth Night court, which would soon be upon them.