The King's Deryni by Katherine Kurtz

discount Judhael. And however sound of mind he may or may not be, he has a grandson of the same name nearing his majority. Furthermore, the Princess Caitrin might yet marry and produce an heir.”
    â€œThere may be some truth to that last,” Oisín said thoughtfully. “Had it not been for Donal Haldane’s last Mearan campaign, she would have married Sir Francis Delaney, the younger brother of the Earl of Somerdale. Fortunately for Donal, Delaney met his end in the same engagement that saw Judhael’s daughter and granddaughter hounded to death. We have Morian to thank for that,” he added for the benefit of Jamyl, who had been but a boy at the time. “Yes, Morian du Joux, or ap Lewys, as he was born, whose father was Lewys ap Norfal. Lewys was quite a thorn in our sides, in his time, but fortunately the son serves us well. He has mostly made his career at the governor’s court in Meara, serving Haldane interests.”
    Jamyl only nodded. He was well acquainted with the stories of how Lewys ap Norfal had been expelled from the Camberian Council many decades before, and had later perished in a magical endeavor gone horribly wrong. And he had heard of Morian, who apparently had mostly lived down his father’s reputation.
    â€œIn any case,” Oisín went on, “recent rumor has it that the Princess Caitrin now wishes to marry Derek Delaney Earl of Somerdale, the elder brother of her previous betrothed. This match—nay, any match—does not meet with the approval of her mother, who has been serving as regent-in-exile since her husband’s descent into . . . let us say ineffectiveness rather than madness. Aude of Meara believes that enough Quinnell blood has been spilled in the now-lost Mearan cause. If Caitrin should fail to produce an heir, the last of the Mearan succession would rest in that last surviving grandson, the younger Prince Judhael—and they say that Aude has been grooming him for the Church, to the point that he intends to take holy orders.”
    Vivienne sniffed. “At twelve, I think it far more likely that young Prince Judhael may awaken to more worldly ambitions, but at least that is probably for the future.”
    â€œWe shall see,” Oisín replied noncommittally. “I worry more about Caitrin. Her mother’s health is said to be failing. Once Aude is gone, Caitrin may well marry—and any children she might bear would—”
    He broke off as the double doors suddenly parted and the last of their number silently entered the chamber, not meeting anyone’s gaze. In contrast to his usual, sometimes flamboyant attire, Prince Khoren Vastouni tonight was clad all in black, his greying hair ruffled in a silvery halo around his flat-topped black hat. As he slid into his seat to Vivienne’s left, she touched a hesitant hand to his shoulder, at which he shook his head.
    â€œWhat has happened?” Barrett asked quietly, cocking his head in the other’s direction.
    â€œâ€™Tis over,” Khoren said in a low voice, clearly steeling himself for the news he must deliver. “Both the Lady Roshane and her child are dead.”
    Vivienne gasped and sat back in her chair, her face draining of color, and Stefan bit at his lip.
    â€œIt
was
a very long labor . . . ,” Barrett said tentatively.
    â€œAye, but that alone was not the cause of her death,” Khoren replied, gazing up sightlessly at the glowing crystal far above their heads, his tone flat and detached. “Hogan had summoned his aunt to attend the birth: the very ruthless Princess Camille Furstána—or Mother Serafina, as she now styles herself.” He briefly closed his eyes, as if to blot out the memory, then leaned his head against the high back of his chair.
    â€œThe Festils are nothing if not tenacious, whether by birth or by marriage,” he went on. “When it became clear to the Lady Roshane that her strength