«But Kenneth is human, and can be controlled», Michon said. «Deceiving Alyce will be far more difficult a matter, even with the triggers Jessamy has given over to the king».
Khoren Vastouni slowly shook his head. «One must admire the audacity of the Haldanes», he said. «Can aught be done to facilitate this mating? For I would be interested, indeed, to see a child of Alyce de Corwyn and Donal Haldane».
«Once more, I fear we must sit back and merely observe», Seisyll replied. «With luck, we shall know soon enough».
But it would not come as soon as any of them had hoped, for Jessamy never emerged from her coma, and died shortly before Christmas. Knowledge that she was dying had put a damper on the king's plans in November, and the funeral aftermath and preparations for Twelfth Night and its attendant courts made a December liaison infeasible. It was not until late January that Donal Haldane felt ready to make his move — if ever he was to do it.
The night he finally chose, based on Jessamy's calculations and observations of the laundress she had employed, was one long in careful planning. It was a stormy night toward the end of January, with wind howling among the chimneys and snow piling high in the castle yard. Kenneth had returned two days earlier from a mission down to Desse, exhausted from his ride, and Donal had made certain that Alyce was kept late in the royal nursery that night, tending a feverish child — courtesy of a posset concocted to produce precisely that condition.
The king kept Kenneth very late the next night as well, plying him with drink and a carefully planted suggestion to ensure that he passed out immediately upon reaching his bed, with no inclination to even touch his wife.
On the third night, his hour come at last, the king had also made his preparations, this time with a sedative in the wine he, had had served at a supper shared by the pair at his own table, along with the queen. The ensuing drowsiness of both queen and aide had ensured an early night. Both now slept in their respective beds. Alyce had set her cup aside after only a sip or two, but now slept as well, curled in the curve of her husband's body.
Donal watched the pair for nearly an hour through a spy-hole in the paneling of their apartment — the one he had chosen especially, after their marriage — stretching forth his powers to confirm the depth of their sleep, until finally he summoned sufficient resolve to proceed.
He had prepared carefully, clothing himself, over his nightshirt, in a long dressing gown of goodly wool, lined with fur, for he had not known how long he might need to lurk in the passageway behind the paneling. Soft boots were on his feet, and a fur-lined cap on his head.
Senses finely attuned, he touched the stud that would let the hidden panel slide back soundlessly, slipping inside and closing it behind him. Softly he walked to Kenneth's side of the bed and lightly touched his temple, profoundly deepening his sleep. Jessamy had taught him how to do that, too. He then moved around to the other side, undoing the front of his robe as he went. Pulse racing, he was already aroused, from the simple daring of the deed he contemplated, but he knew he must first make certain she would not stir while he had his way with her.
Pulling back her side of the coverlet with one hand, he reached his hand to touch her as he had touched her husband, reaching for the controls set by her father so many years before and adjusted by Jessamy for the specific purpose of this night's work. Alyce gave a low moan, but did not stir as he gently shifted her onto her back. But when he started to turn back her nightdress, her eyes opened to gaze at him in shock.
«Sire?» she breathed.
Panic overtook him, and he seized her wrist and reached for the controls again, at the same time trying to pull his robe around him, a part of him unable to comprehend why Jessamy's trigger had not worked. His mind surged across the physical link thus formed, but very solid shields flared between them, and he could not get past.
Anger made his own powers stir more potently, coiling in that secret place behind his eyes, but she only scrambled to a sitting position, her wrist still clasped in his hand, her own powers like an impenetrable wall between them as she laid her other hand on the wrist of her sleeping husband — tried and failed to rouse him.
«How have you done this to him, and what did you intend to do to me?» she demanded.
Once again he tried to take her mind, again clashing against those adamantine shields, feeling the killing power start to stir, as it had with Sief, all those years ago — but abruptly he backed down, releasing her wrist as if it were a bar of red-hot iron. Killing her was the last thing he wished to do, even if it meant that there would now be no magical protector for his sons.
«God, forgive me, Alyce!» he breathed.
Burying his face in his hands, he slid to the floor beside the bed, elbows braced against its edge, and wept — for the dead Krispin, for Jessamy, also in her grave, and for the child who now would never be. She watched him in silence for several long moments, again checking the sleeping Kenneth, then shifted to lift his head into her lap, rocking him against her breast as he sobbed on and on — and gradually confessed all.
By the time he had mostly spent his tears, she had wept as well, and scrubbed her sleeve across her eyes as he lifted his head, reluctant to meet her gaze. She said nothing as he hauled himself back up off his knees and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.
«You must think me a terrible man», he said uncertainly. «And if you did, I would not blame you».
Slowly she shook her head, pitying him.
«No, not terrible», she replied. «But I think I now understand more of what a heavy weight it is to wear a crown. What pain you must have borne, when Krispin died — and to be forced to bear it in secret, unable to express your true loss…».
He nodded bleakly, his anguish etched on his weathered face.
«Jessamy was obliged to bear it all — and all her sacrifice was for naught, in the end». He hung his head. «I don't know why I thought I might repeat the same exercise. I suppose I wanted to re-create Krispin. But of course, that would never have happened, even had I succeeded in what I set out to do tonight. I did consider simply asking you openly — but there was Kenneth, who is my friend — or, who was my friend, I suppose, once he learns what has happened here tonight».
«But nothing happened here, Sire», she said softly.
«It would have happened, if I'd had my way — much to my shame».
«But it did not». She glanced across at Kenneth, still oblivious. «And it could not», she added in a whisper.
He looked at her in question. «I don't understand».
«You should wake Kenneth now, Sire», she said, ignoring his comment. «Or — no, give his controls to me, and I shall wake him. And before I do, I shall give him the gist of what has happened — and of your need».
He started to get up, but she stayed him with a hand on his wrist, only nodding toward Kenneth. Bracing himself, the king rose enough to wrap his robe more closely around himself, then settled back again on her side of the bed, stretching then to set his hand on Kenneth's forehead, as Alyce did the same.
The touch of her mind was gentle now, taking the controls he gave, and he bowed his head as he withdrew, in awe of her grace, leaving it to her to do what she felt needful.
After a moment, Alyce, too, withdrew her hand, and Donal dared to look back at both of them. He saw the tenderness as she bent to press a gentle kiss to her husband's brow, tensed as the other man's eyelids flickered and then the sea-gray eyes opened.
Their gaze was cool at first, appraising, measuring. But then he sat up wordlessly to take his wife in his arms and hold her to his breast, the while not taking his eyes from the king's.