As if they were all the choirboys she’d taught at Moreton, she began ordering the men about, giving them different instruments that were abundant in the room.

Once they were seated or standing, she flew about, giving me

lody here, rhythm there. About halfway through she began to sing and two of the musicians were immediately won to her side. Grinning, they picked up the melody and stayed with her.

It seemed to Alyx everything was taking so long and she only felt encouragement when the man on the harpsichord added his voice to hers. The man on the harp caught the melody and showed his talent with those heavenly strings.

Alyx had chosen an old song, hoping they’d all know it, but perhaps it was her rendition of it that made them awkward. The man she’d given a tambourine moved to a kettledrum hidden in a shadowy corner and the sound began to make the floor vibrate.

Finally, finally, everyone seemed to have caught the song, and Alyx dared to turn and look at the King. His face was impassive, silent, but the men behind him looked astonished. At least she knew now that what she was doing wasn’t an everyday occurrence.

They repeated three choruses of the song and Alyx started them on something new, church music this time, and when that was done she went to a folk song.

It had been an hour since she’d started and she quieted the musicians. This time, she’d sing alone, unaccompanied. Once, four years ago, a singer had come to Moreton and the villagers had said Alyx at last had some competition from someone. Alyx, frightened of looking bad, stayed up all night and composed a song that would be difficult for even her to sing, a song that covered the entire range of her abilities. The next day, she’d sung the song and the visitor, an older woman, had looked at Alyx with tears in her eyes and kissed Alyx on both cheeks, saying Alyx should give thanks daily for her gift from God.

Now, Alyx planned to sing that song. She’d hated it ever since she wrote it because the woman she’d meant to humble had actually humbled her. But now she needed to do what she could to win the King’s favor.

The song showed the heights and depths of Alyx’s voice, as well as the controlled softness and extraordinary volume. She built up to the total power of her voice slowly, liltingly, and just when it seemed she could go no further, she put everything into one note and held it—and held it until there were tears in her eyes and her lungs were dry.

When she finished, she dropped to a deep curtsy and there was total, absolute silence about her, the sound of Alyx’s last note still reverberating off the walls, swirling about the people like blue and yellow lights.

“Come here, child.” The King broke the silence.

Alyx went to him, kissed his hand, kept her head bowed.

He leaned forward, lifted her chin. “So you are the newest Montgomery wife.” He smiled at her startled look. “I try to keep up with what happens in my realm. And I find the Montgomery men marry the most entertaining women. But this . . .”—he motioned to the musicians about the room—“. . . this is worth a king’s ransom.”

“I am pleased to give you pleasure, Your Majesty,” Alyx whispered.

He gave the first indication of a smile. “You have more than pleased me. Now, what do you ask in return? Come, you didn’t leave Gavin’s home for no reason.”

Alyx tried to gather her courage. “I would like to end the feud between the Montgomerys and the Chatworths. I propose a blood bond between them, Miles to marry Lady Elizabeth Chatworth.”

King Henry frowned. “Miles is a felon by the Act of 1495. He abducted the Lady Elizabeth.”

“He did not!” Alyx bellowed in her usual manner. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” She fell to her knees before him. “Miles did not abduct her, but it was because of me that Lady Elizabeth has suffered.”

“You! Fetch a stool,” King Henry commanded and when Alyx was seated, he said, “Now tell me all of the story.”

Alyx told of Pagnell accusing her of using her voice to seduce him, of her hiding in the forest, of falling in love with Raine. She watched his eyes, saw that he was interested in her story and went on to tell of her capture by Pagnell and Elizabeth’s abduction.

“You say he meant to roll her in a carpet and hand her to Lord Miles?” King Henry asked.

She leaned forward. “Please don’t repeat this, but I heard she was delivered without a stitch of clothing on and that she attacked Lord Miles with an ax. Of course the story could be wrong.”

The King gave a sound very like a laugh. “Go on with your story.”

She told him of the witchcraft trial, how the men had used her to entice Raine to her rescue.

“And he saved you at the last moment?”

“A little after the last moment. The smoke was so bad I lost my voice for days.”

He took her hand in his. “That,” he said with great gravity, “was a tragedy. And what happened after this magnificent rescue?”

Her voice changed as she told of her child and her return to the forest and meeting Brian Chatworth. She told the way Brian had dressed in Raine’s armor and how Raine had nearly died from the opium.

“So now you’d like Lord Miles to marry Lady Elizabeth.”

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