Read Online The Bastard Prince by Katherine Kurtz - Free Book Online

past years. What Rhysel thought might swing the balance was a factor she did not believe even her mentors had considered. Both Queen Michaela and her brother possessed Deryni blood of their own; it was diluted and had been rendered impotent in early childhood, but what potential they once had possessed could be restored— if the blocking process could be reversed.
    So far as Rhysel knew, only one person now alive could do that—her own brother Tieg, not yet fourteen. She did not want to think about the danger of bringing him here to Rhemuth—for Michaela and Cathan certainly could not go to him—but she and Tieg had already discussed the possibility. She found herself wondering whether Tieg’s unique powers could also catalyze a Haldane’s powers. She knew from reading Michaela that the king had shields and perhaps could Truth-Read—which had kept Rhysel herself from probing more directly—but he would need far greater skills than those to keep him safe from a trained Festillic adversary.
    Pale skirts gathered close about her ankles, Rhysel glanced left and right as she emerged from the spiral stair that led down to the library floor. The corridor was deserted, as she had hoped it would be at this time of day, and her slippered feet made no sound as she moved quickly along the expanse of diagonally set black and white tiles. Her true destination was a disused chamber just beyond the library, but to be seen entering it might arouse unwelcome curiosity. So she would go into the library first, fulfilling the errand she had set herself from the queen and also disarming whatever potential betrayal might be lurking there.
    The precaution proved to be well taken, for she sensed a presence in the room even before her hand touched the door latch. Forewarned, she opened it boldly and entered. Over at the far left end of the room, glaringly lit by a wash of sunlight from one of the bay windows, a black-clad back was hunched anonymously over one of the writing desks, intent on his scribing. He glanced back over his shoulder as he heard the door, then scrambled awkwardly to his feet, the sunlight casting rusty highlights on a familiar black scholar’s robe, worn and much-patched.
    Thank God. She had been expecting one of the sour Custodes scribes. She could deal with this young man.
    â€œWhy, Master Donal. God give you grace,” she said lightly, as she closed the library door behind her. “Hard at work, I see.”
    He bobbed his head and blushed to the roots of his short-cropped dark hair. The gangly lay scholar adored her and usually became tongue-tied in her presence—a reaction that Rhysel did not try too hard to discourage, since a smitten suitor was far more malleable than a rejected one. Simple courtesy cost nothing, and she did not dis like Donal, for all that he seemed to work willingly for those who were her enemies.
    â€œM-mistress Liesel,” Donal stammered. “Your unexpected p-presence fulfills the promised fairness of a glorious day.”
    She favored him with an inclination of her head and an appreciative smile that made him blush even more, then turned her attention to a casual inspection of the room, her gaze brushing lovingly over the manuscripts and bound volumes scattered across another library table. There were more stored in the ceiling-high range of shelves and pigeonholes that occupied the right-hand wall of the room, and the familiar scent of leather and ink was like a heady perfume.
    Masking her pleasure, she moved a little closer to the table stacked with books and ran a finger along a spine stamped with gold. Donal knew she could read and write, but he had no notion that her passion for learning probably surpassed his own—one of the many legacies of her beloved parents. That she had put it aside in a greater cause, he probably would never know. All her recent years had been spent trying to absorb the practical knowledge and training to enable her