As she stepped off the ramp, one of the figures let go her stranglehold on Magnus's neck and managed to disentangle herself from his arm with a wide grin, staring up with shining eyes as she said, "Welcome home, brother."

She was petite, she was slender and shapely, she was beautiful, and Alea's heart sank. She's only his sister, she thought wildly, only Cordelia, his sister. But now she knew the standard of beauty with which Magnus had grown up, knew it was everything she was not, and her heart sickened.

Then the other two stepped back from their brother's hug with equally wide grins, showing themselves to be two young men, one broad-shouldered and lean, the other slender and large-eyed but with an aura of power.

Magnus turned to the slighter one in the long robe, and Alea could see him restrain the words that came of themselves.

So did Gregory. He laughed. "Come, say it! 'How I have grown!'"

"I left you a stripling," Magnus said diplomatically, "and find you a man in full." He turned to the more muscular young man in doublet and hose. "And there is also somewhat more of you than there was when I left, Geoffrey."

"And of you." Geoffrey grinned up a foot at his older brother, his grin shading into a challenge. "Have you gained skill in fighting to equal it?"

A shadow darkened Magnus's face. "Many fights, brother, too many—though I cannot claim skill in their outcome."

Geoffrey stared in surprise, and there was a moment's awkward silence. Into it stepped a stocky young man, taller than Geoffrey but far shorter than Magnus, clasping Magnus's free hand in both of his own, saying, "Welcome indeed, brother-in-law."

But what was this? How could this great bulk of a man, this indomitable warrior, this Magnus, HER Magnus, be bowing and saying, "My liege."

The blond's face twisted in pain. "Not your king yet, thank Heaven, Magnus. Come, rise and be my friend as ever you have been."

So this was Prince Alain, Alea noted. She surveyed the other three, naming them with information learned only in the last few weeks. Gregory was not so slender as Magnus had led her to believe—ten years had worked wonders indeed. Geoffrey was every bit as she had imagined him, muscular and seeming to be leashed mayhem even here with his family—but Cordelia was far more beautiful than Magnus's description had led her to believe.

In desperation, she turned to the two young women who stood by watching, but there was no relief in the sight of the brothers' newly-wed wives. The redhead stirred impatiently, and her skirt swirled, parting and revealing a flash of hose-clad thigh—the warrior, then, dressed so that her skirts should not get in the way when she mounted a horse. That meant that the one whose hair seemed white in the moonlight was … Alea braced herself, trying to hold down a growing anger.

Magnus straightened and embraced his old friend the prince. Alea realized he had made his point with skills hard-won, but of diplomacy, not fighting. As he stepped back, Cordelia caught Alain's arm and pressed against his side, saying, "Aye, embrace him as your brother, Magnus, not your prince."

"A year earlier and I could have come in time for your weddings," Magnus said, chagrined. "But at least…"

There was an awkward silence as everyone else filled in the words he had cut off: At least Mother lived to see it. The gloom of the occasion settled over the delight in Magnus's homecoming. Then Cordelia forced a smile and said, "I am not quite so badly outnumbered any more, Magnus. You have three sisters now." She turned to the other two women. "She with the fiery hair and the temper to match is Quicksilver."

The redhead stepped forward to take Geoffrey's arm with a proprietorial manner but extended the other to Magnus. "Welcome, brother."

Magnus took the hand with a flourish and pressed a kiss to it. Quicksilver's eyes widened with surprise, and Geoffrey's darkened, but before he could protest, Magnus released the hand and stepped back to look them up and down with a growing smile. "Well-matched, I should say— and a handsome couple indeed. I hope you shall be blessed with daughters, for they shall be paragons of beauty."

"What, brother!" Geoffrey said indignantly. "Will you wish me no sons?"

"As many as your lady can manage, Geoffrey," Magnus assured him, "for I doubt not they will be as turbulent as they will be handsome."

Quicksilver smiled. "Let them be holy terrors! I think I can deal with half a dozen at least."

Geoffrey looked at her in surprise, but Gregory cleared his throat, and Magnus looked up, then seemed to become still within his body, his smile a little more firm, even rigid, and Alea wondered if any but she realized he was bracing himself.

"Brother," Gregory said gravely as he led forth the stunning vision with the cloud of golden hair, "meet my bride, Allouette."

She stepped forward hesitantly, very hesitantly, seeming almost ready to run, eyes wide with apprehension. "You need not speak to me if you do not wish. We have already met."

Witch! Alea clamped her lips shut to keep the word in. This was she, this was the tormentor of her Magnus, the one who had tortured his heart, who had humiliated and shamed him. She was glad she did not know how the woman had maimed him, for she was having trouble enough keeping herself from rushing forward to strike the she-wolf down where she stood.

"Met you? I never have." Magnus took her hand, albeit somewhat stiffly, and her fingers lay in his palm as though they were lifeless—but his smile, though fixed, was still in place, and he actually managed to summon some warmth into his eyes. "I never met you with no guise but your own, and I must say it is far more fair than any illusion you projected."

Allouette blushed and lowered her gaze, and Alea knew enough of men to realize that the gesture made her even more appealing—but Magnus seemed not to notice. She looked up, looked him squarely in the face. "Gregory has told me that when logic dictated my death, yours was one of the voices that spoke for mercy. I thank you for my life."

"And I you, for giving my brother the happiness that I thought would never be his." But Magnus still stood stiffly.

The silence was brief but awkward.

Then Magnus raised his head, looking around the little group, and asked, "Our father … is he …"

"By Mama's beside," Cordelia told him. "Not even for your homecoming would he leave her now—but I know he is almost as anxious for sight of you as he is for each breath of hers. Come, brother."

She started to turn away, but Magnus caught her arm. "No, wait. You must all meet my shield-mate." He turned to Alea with a smile of relief, but his eyes were haunted, pleading. She stared at him in shock, not understanding, but he only said, "How have you managed to find a shadow to cloak you, even here?"

"By full-moon light, when there is so much of you to cast that shadow?" Alea demanded. "How hard could that be?" She stepped forward nonetheless, gripping her staff to keep her hands from shaking, looking from Geoffrey to Gregory to Cordelia, and pointedly not at the ladies. "I am Alea, whom he took in from charity."

"Say rather, from an instinct for self-preservation!" Magnus protested, and explained to his sibs, "She has saved my life a dozen times at least."

"And you mine," Alea retorted.

"Ah, then," Geoffrey said softly, "there is already a deep bond between you."

Alea turned to him in surprise. Already? What did he mean, already? But Quicksilver was nodding, and Alea met her gaze. They stared straight into one another's eyes for a moment, and warrior recognized warrior. No, more—each knew how important the other's honor was to her, and knew in that instant that they would be able to trust one another in battle for the rest of their lives, no matter how much they quarreled in peacetime.