The King’s Justice by Katherine Kurtz Read Free Book Online Page B

finger.
    â€œIf I’d really been in control, she wouldn’t have been killed in the first place.”
    â€œAre we going to have to go over that again?” Nigel replied. “That’s past. It’s regrettable—but continuing to reproach yourself won’t change things. You can’t do everything exactly right. You can make a difference for the future, however.”
    â€œYes, and my dear, superstition-blinded mother will help things enormously!”
    â€œShe’s only your mother, for God’s sake, Kelson. You haven’t done anything you need to be ashamed of. If she wants to keep flagellating herself with guilt, that’s between her and her God. Don’t ask me to hand you a whip to do the same thing.”
    Kelson snorted and started to cross his arms skeptically across his chest, then glanced at the gatehouse, his eyes caught by movement in the shadowed passageway. As the first of the Cassani escort trotted through the opening, he stood a little straighter and tugged nervously at the bottom of his tunic.
    â€œSweet Jesu , here she comes,” he whispered.
    Two pairs of Duncan’s elite lancers rode at the head of the modest procession following, blue and silver silk pennons fluttering gaily from the tips of gleaming metal lances, McLain tartan bright on shoulders and saddles, horses jigging and prancing as they sighted the gate to the stableyard. Behind rode Sir Alan Sommerfield, the seasoned McLain captain, beside a stylish-looking younger knight bearing the black ship and crimson crescent of the Bremagni kings on his white surcoat. Two horse-chairs followed close behind, the first carried by a pair of pale matched greys and escorted by a young cleric on a white mule. Behind the second horse-chair followed three more Bremagni knights and another four Cassani lancers.
    â€œCome, Sire,” murmured Archbishop Cardiel, touching the king’s elbow to lead him down the steps. “She’ll be in the first chair. We should be there when she alights.”
    â€œWhy isn’t she riding?” Kelson whispered to Nigel, as they followed Cardiel and the cousins down. “You don’t think she’s ill, do you?”
    â€œIt’s a long journey,” Nigel returned. “Perhaps this was easier for her.”
    The queen’s horse-chair reached the bottom of the steps at about the same time the king and his party did, the priest and the two captains dismounting immediately to attend the chair’s occupant as the other knights lined up to either side in salute. As the Bremagni captain drew back the heavy curtains and opened the tiny half-door, the priest offered his hand inside with a bow. Then Jehana was emerging, all white and in white and looking even paler for the blaze of her eyes in her pinched, wan face.
    â€œMother,” Kelson breathed, reaching out to her and seizing her in a fierce embrace when she would have knelt to him on the dusty ground beside her chair. As he held her to his chest, a hand taller than last time they had met, he could feel her heart pounding beneath her silken robes—and was shocked to realize how little there was of her to embrace.
    She must have sensed his surprise, for it was she who broke the embrace first, to back off a step and bob in formal curtsey, subject to king. Then she was moving on to Cardiel, bending to kiss his ring in homage, bringing forward the priest and a youngish-looking nun who had emerged from the second horse-chair.
    â€œI beg leave to present my chaplain, Father Ambros,” she said softly, not meeting Kelson’s eyes, “and Sister Cecile, my companion. Sir Delrae commands my guard. I have no other household anymore,” she finished lamely. “I did not wish to presume upon the King’s Grace.”
    â€œâ€™Tis no presumption, Mother,” Kelson said softly. “Until I take another bride, you are still queen and mistress of this castle. And you must have a