Read Online Childe Morgan by Katherine Kurtz - Free Book Online

nothing new,” Michon said impatiently. “What has changed?”
    â€œThe focus of Prince Nimur’s interest,” Barrett replied. “Reliable rumor has it that he intends to take up the research that brought Lewys ap Norfal to no good end.”
    Michon went very still, briefly averting his eyes.
    â€œThere is worse, I fear,” Dominy said gently, after a slight pause. “Prince Torval also is heavily involved, of course—the two are all but inseparable—and he has far less good sense than his elder brother.”
    â€œAnd why is that worse?” Seisyll asked impatiently.
    â€œAh,” Barrett said. “That, I can tell you. Prince Torval has formed a close friendship with another of Camille’s students: a very accomplished and somewhat arrogant Cardosan called Zachris Pomeroy. He, in turn, is foster brother to another of Camille’s nephews: Hogan, the posthumous son of her brother Marcus. All the Furstáns are dangerous, of course, but Marcus was also the senior male representative of the Festillic line when he died, inheritor of all the Festillic pretensions to the crown of Gwynedd—which made his son Hogan the Festillic Pretender from birth.”
    â€œNot that old lost cause?” Michon said impatiently. “Lord, will they never let it go? It is nigh on two hundred years since the Haldanes took it back from Hogan’s very distant ancestor Imre, and for very good cause. And how many wars have been fought in an attempt to reassert the Festillic claim? How many lives lost?”
    â€œFar too many,” Dominy said flatly. “And everyone here can recite a litany of the fallen, from his or her own family. But the Festils always were a stubborn lot.”
    â€œAye, and they have long memories,” Oisín agreed. “They never forget a slight.”
    â€œOf course not. They are Furstáns,” Seisyll said.
    Scowling, Michon passed the report across to him. “Well, this time I fear that the situation may require some direct intervention.” He glanced at the doors, then said, “Perhaps Khoren can shed some light on the question. And here he is at last.”
    Even as he spoke, the doors opened to admit their missing member: Prince Khoren Vastouni, brother of the Sovereign Prince of Andelon. By his formal robes of state, he appeared to have come directly from his brother’s Twelfth Night Court, though his disheveled hair suggested that he might have been puzzling over his prized new manuscript. He had left behind his coronet.
    â€œMy heartfelt apologies, brethren,” he murmured, sweeping into the seat between Dominy and Barrett. “My eldest niece chose tonight to present us with her chosen husband. It would be an understatement to say that my esteemed brother was somewhat taken aback.”
    A frown creased Dominy’s fair brow. “Not Sofiana? Surely she cannot be old enough to marry!”
    Khoren simply sighed and raised an eyebrow. “That was certainly her father’s impression. But as incredible as it may sound, she will attain her majority on her next birthday, six months hence. I know,” he added, lifting both hands in deference to Dominy’s scandalized expression. “Fourteen is young to marry, but Sofiana has always known her mind. She avers that she will have none other than Reyhan of Jaca as her consort—and soon. The choice itself hardly comes as any surprise, of course. She and Reyhan have been inseparable since childhood.”
    â€œHe is of royal blood himself, as I recall,” Seisyll murmured. “Some cousin of the Prince of Jaca?”
    â€œAye, there was a daughter of my grandfather’s line who married a grandson of a Prince of Jaca,” Khoren replied. “Royal and Deryni blood on both sides, though through the female lines. Still, a suitable match. And they are fond of one another.”
    â€œHe was an early pupil of the Duc du Joux, was he