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When she saw Nicholas next, he was on his knees beside the bed, clasping the old duke’s hand between both of his. His face ashen, he kissed his father’s withered fingers.

“I never thought to see you alive again,” he whispered hoarsely.

“My son. I never thought to have the chance to ask forgiveness.” Tears shone in the duke’s sunken but still lucid eyes. “I condemned you wrongly, banished you, trusted that jackal and would not listen to your pleas…”

“Father, there’s no need…” Nicholas tried to interrupt.

But the duke continued without heeding him. “Julian made it appear…that you had committed those heinous offenses against that girl. He has admitted it. Arianne is my witness.”

“It’s true,” she put in softly, kneeling beside Nicholas.

“It was all his doing, just as you suspected. When your father had second thoughts, when he would have called you back, Julian had him declared dead and locked away in this chamber.” She touched Nicholas’s arm.

An array of emotions must be besetting him at this moment—love, shock, disbelief, and staggering joy to find his father alive.

Not to mention a stunned realization of his own vindication.

He looked like a man who’d been struck on the head by an iron beam.

She yearned to embrace him, to kiss away that glazed icy shock, and hold him close against her heart, but he turned swiftly back toward Duke Armand.

“You’re ill. He has harmed you,” Nicholas said sharply, but the old duke shook his head.

“No, a sickness came over me just before he brought me to this place. A…fever. A doctor cared for me here—then Julian had him killed so he would tell no one that I still lived.” His voice broke. A great sigh ran through his thin body as he met his son’s sorrowful gaze.

“I’ll never forgive myself…for being such a fool,” Duke Armand whispered.

Before Nicholas could reply, two figures burst through the narrow opening that Arianne had entered a short time before.

Nicholas sprang to his feet, sword in hand, but it was Marcus and Katerine on the threshold.

“My captain, Felix, and the troops of Galeron are driving Julian’s men from the bailey,” Marcus panted.

“Sir Castor and other nobles are fighting beside us. And soldiers bearing your hawk banner are fighting madly, cutting off those trying to flee… My lord! ” he exclaimed, astonishment crossing his flushed and battered face as he saw the duke.

“What miracle is this?” Katerine cried, her hands fluttering to her throat.

“It is time…for the fighting to stop.” Duke Armand tried to sit up. Nicholas leaned down to help him. “Julian has caused enough bloodshed, enough division in my kingdom.”

“Then I’ll stop it.” Nicholas spoke with quiet purpose.

His gaze softened briefly as Arianne flew toward Marcus and they embraced, their heads touching.

He wanted to get down on his knees and thank God that she was safe; he wanted to hold her and inhale the sweetness of her being and thereby banish the stench of death from his soul.

But there was no time yet for gentle thoughts or loving words, or for the healing that only she could give him. The battle still raged below.

As a reminder of this, Katerine suddenly spied Julian’s body and wrenched away, gasping, from the sight.

More were dying even as he stood here, Nicholas reflected, his glance hardening once again.

His father was right. It was time for the violence and strife to end. He knew exactly what he had to do.

The scene below was a panorama of chaos. After Nicholas settled Duke Armand upon the gold-backed chair that Marcus had carried out to the balcony directly beneath the secret tower room, he paused a moment to survey the destruction and ongoing bloodshed below.

Grim-mouthed, he stepped forward and gripped the balcony wall.

“Halt! Lay down your arms! In the name of the archduke, I command you!”

People glanced up, pointed, gasped. The cry was taken up, swelling through the crowd. “Halt! Halt in the name of the archduke!” the people echoed, the chant growing louder as the fighting stopped, and the multitude of the throng took up the cry.

Duke Armand, having been carried down to this balcony where traditionally he had stood countless times to speak to his people, summoned the strength to rise, with Nicholas’s and Marcus’s help, and wave at the stunned watchers below.

A joyous shout went up from the crowd.

“Duke Armand lives! Duke Armand lives!”

“And Julian the usurper is dead!” Nicholas called down, standing sword in hand at the rail. “All men loyal to the true duke, throw down your arms. The false and evil reign of Julian is over!”

Arianne’s heart thundered as she watched what happened next.

The will to fight seemed to drain out of Julian’s soldiers like tidewater receding.

Some ran—and under Nicholas’s orders, the men bearing the hawk banner reluctantly permitted them to flee the gates.

But most of the people in the courtyard cheered and then stared up at the balcony in awe, as Duke Armand, with Nicholas on one side and Marcus on the other, began to speak.

Hushed silence fell. The duke spoke in a raspy voice that yet carried down to his people.

“I hereby proclaim that my firstborn son, Nicholas, is empowered to act on my behalf as your new archduke—to unite the land of Dinadan once more!”

A roar rose up from the multitude. The people were cheering. Tears pricked Arianne’s eyes, and her heart swelled with happiness as she watched Nicholas ease the old duke back into his chair.

“Fealty to Archduke Nicholas!” Sir Castor shouted from the bailey and dropped to one knee.

“Fealty to Nicholas!” went round the cry, and then, as Arianne watched in mounting relief and joy, the whole assembled throng knelt, lifting their faces to Nicholas and the old duke.

Even the gypsy on the scaffold knelt. Arianne saw the smile of satisfaction flash across her face.

A short time later, Duke Armand rested upon his own bed, in the grandness of his own former chambers. Outside, the cheers could still be heard. “Long live Archduke Armand! Long live Duke Nicholas!”

Arianne and Marcus and Katerine retreated to an anteroom to allow father and son a few moments of privacy for their reunion. But they returned when a steady stream of soldiers and courtiers presented themselves to Nicholas, awaiting his orders.

A doctor was summoned for the old duke, and then Nicholas announced that he and Marcus were needed below. Men of both their kingdoms awaited instructions.

Marcus stared at Nicholas, then at Arianne, and grinned.

“Not a bad day’s work,” he said. “Little sister, you have done well. If not for your efforts to find him, this rapscallion might not have arrived to free me from the dungeon—I’d have missed all this day’s festivities…”

“Festivities!” Katerine exclaimed with a shudder.

Marcus grinned at her and kissed her hand.

“If I hadn’t arrived, your sister would have found a way to free you.” Nicholas’s gray gaze was fixed intently upon Arianne’s sparkling face. “She is the most determined woman I’ve ever met.”

Marcus chuckled. “Aye, she is determined.”

“And the most courageous.”

“Well…”

“And the most beautiful.”

Marcus suddenly glanced back and forth between his sister and his friend. There was no mistaking either of their expressions. They might have been the only occupants of the castle.

He flashed a surprised grin at Armand, who raised his eyebrows.

“Well, then…” Marcus began, but Nicholas cut him off.

“We’ll have the wedding at the same time as the coronation,” he announced.

“Wedding!” Marcus and Katerine burst out together.

Arianne had not taken her eyes from Nicholas’s intent face, but a smile gently curved her lips. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Well done, my son!” From the handsomely appointed feather bed, the old duke beamed up at his son. “I see you’ve learned wisdom during these past years.”

“I trust so, my lord.” Nicholas’s eyes still held Arianne’s.

She looked so beautiful, even with her torn and crumpled gown, her wildly flowing hair, and the pale lavender shadows of weariness from the events of the day beneath her eyes.

“We shall be married at the earliest time possible—if Lady Arianne has not changed her mind.”

“When you know me better, my lord duke, you will know that I never change my mind,” Arianne said sweetly, and now laughter and love shone from her eyes, banishing the weariness as she went into his arms.

“A woman who never changes her mind,” the archduke chuckled dryly. “You have a challenge before you indeed, my son.”

“I pledge to meet the challenge—and to surmount it.” Nicholas’s quick, flashing grin lit his face as he tilted her chin up with a gentle finger.

“We will be wed and we will be happy until the end of our days,” he promised so quietly that she alone heard the words.

“I will devote my life to your happiness, safety, and well-being.”

“And I to yours,” she whispered back.

“It is customary in Galeron to seal such agreements with a kiss,” Marcus pointed out gravely.

“In Dinadan as well.” Nicholas’s eyes held a distinct gleam as he pulled Arianne close.

“Far be it from me to defy custom, my lord,” she murmured with such unaccustomed meekness that he grinned and then kissed her so thoroughly, so deeply, so hungrily that Arianne forgot completely where she was and who was watching, and imagined herself on the very brink of heaven.