Dawn Of Desire (23 page)

That Cadell still dreamed of Adelaine was a valuable piece of information, and Albyn doubted he would get more from the unkempt bard. He reached to open his door. “I look forward to hearing your new verses tonight, Quill. If you should think of something more, whether it be a casual comment you overhear, or a careless gesture that brings to mind something important, come straight to me. I’ll find a way to reward you, and I’ll not reveal the source.”

Quill nodded, but he wanted no part in talk of murder and vowed to keep the rest of his thoughts to himself.

Albyn knew he might lack Cadell’s wisdom, but he was smart enough to recognize how easily Ula could have poisoned her husband. She was a demanding woman, and it must have torn at her heart to have had to vie with the memory of a dead woman for her husband’s affections. She had ample opportunity to be alone with Cadell, and his untimely death would not have diminished her circumstances in the slightest.

He knew precisely where she would have gotten a villainous brew: from Garrick, who never strayed far from her side. Albyn had no interest in mixing potions himself, but many Druids took great pleasure in creating everything from love charms to poisons for the damned, and he considered it likely that Garrick was such a man.

An old Druid had died. Had that merely been a test, or a mistake in dosage? Ula could have sampled the potion rather than feign an illness, and then when Cadell cared for her, given him a lethal dose. It was a horrible possibility that completely sickened him, but if a fine man like Cadell had been murdered, he deserved to be avenged.

Depressed by the fortress and its dark intrigues, Albyn left for a long stroll along the sea. He welcomed the
change of scene and the tiring exercise, but not the first faint chill of winter in the air.

When he returned to Egan’s chamber and found it empty, he panicked and raced down the corridor to find Oriana. She answered his knock promptly, but then raised a fingertip to her lips to plead for silence. Gazing past her to the bed, Albyn was so relieved by how peacefully Egan was sleeping that he wanted to shout.

Unwilling to disturb Egan, he drew Oriana out into the corridor. “I’m surprised Egan got this far on his own,” he said, “but this is where he belongs.”

“None of us belongs in this dreadful place,” Oriana countered, and she hugged her arms against the perpetual chill. “I long for the peace of the forest.”

“The forest is a cold and forbidding place in winter,” Albyn said, recalling it from bitter experience. “You’ll be far more comfortable here.”

“If we are here,” Oriana whispered apprehensively.

The sadness in her eyes tugged at his heart, but she was not his woman to comfort. To avoid that temptation, he folded his hands behind his back. “I’ve never known Egan to fail.”

“You are a true friend to have such unshakable faith in him, but he’s never tried to fly, has he?”

“He’ll fly. There are a great many on his side, and we’ll make certain he has the superior wing and the better flight.”

“I know you’ll try, but I’m still sick with worry. I’ve never cared for autumn,” she confided. “With Samhain, winter begins with its freezing rains. Families gather around their hearth to reminisce or plan for long summer days, but it’s a trying time for wanderers.”

That she had yet to accept how greatly her life had changed puzzled Albyn. “The queen of the Dál Cais doesn’t wander,” he reminded her.

Oriana paused to look in on Egan before she replied. “I can’t think of myself as queen when nothing has gone well for Egan since the afternoon we met. Should he win
the challenge and become king, I fear another calamity will swiftly befall him. And then another and another until he throws me from the wall walk just as—”

Horrified by the image that had flashed in her mind’s eye, Oriana sagged back against the doorway. She had never met Cadell, but it had been his name she had nearly spoken.

“Forgive me,” she begged, and in a rush to escape him, she turned toward her chamber.

“No, wait.” Albyn reached out to catch her arm. “Are you thinking of Adelaine? If she didn’t fall to her death, then who killed her?”

Oriana was now desperate to avoid him. “I’m tired. I’ve not slept well, and you mustn’t give my wild ravings any credence.

“Egan will surely be hungry when he wakes,” she hastened to suggest. “Please send a servant with food for him. Then find Yowan and determine what progress he’s made today. He needn’t come here to speak with Egan himself. You can convey his report on the morrow.”

They had talked easily for a short while, and Albyn was sorry she had become so anxious to be rid of him. “It must be very difficult for you when disturbing thoughts of others intrude so unexpectedly,” he mused aloud.

Oriana had calmly listened to the
knowing
and provided thoughtfully embellished fortunes for as long as she could remember, but nothing had prepared her for a life with Egan, where death and danger leapt from every corner.

“Beyond your wildest imagining,” she replied, and closed the door to send him on his way.

“What’s beyond imagining?” Egan asked. He rolled onto his side and straightened his arm to shove himself into an upright position.

“The possibility of flight,” Oriana answered as she rushed to assist him.

“I can manage on my own,” Egan responded crossly, but once he had sat up straight, he had to lean back
against the wall to catch his breath. He had sincerely believed Oriana’s touch would heal the long cut in his side, but it was not happening nearly as rapidly as he had hoped.

At his rebuff, Oriana had drawn back and begun to pace beside the bed. She hugged her arms, then plucked at her sleeves before retracing her path with a distracted step. He wanted her beside him, but it was obvious she would not be able to sit still.

“I shouldn’t have spoken so sharply,” he murmured, “but I can’t rely on your help. I need to care for myself.”

Oriana lengthened her stride to cross the chamber, then pivoted gracefully to come back toward the bed. “I understand, and I want you to be well. You were born to be king, and I love you with all my heart, but I can’t spend my life imprisoned in this awful fortress, or I will surely lose my mind. My sanity may already be slipping away.”

She was dressed in a beautiful gown, and her hair was again neatly combed, but each time she glanced toward him, flames seemed to dance in her eyes. He did not know whether to laugh or cry, and when either activity would doubtless prove excruciating, he could only watch her and wait for inspiration.

“It appears I’m a very poor husband,” he finally offered, “for no new bride should be as unhappy as you.”

“I’m not merely unhappy,” Oriana explained. “I’m terrified that we’re caught in a violent whirlpool that will keep spiraling downward until we’re drowned beneath its weight.”

Egan was equally depressed by that frightening image. “Doomed,” he muttered.

“Aye. Cursed.” Oriana kept up her brisk walk beside the bed, but she looked as though she would rather run.

“The Dál Cais have always been lucky. Why should we be cursed?” he asked.

Oriana halted in midstride, but she could not bring herself to describe her fear: she suspected that his father
had murdered his mother. “I’ll not speculate on the cause, but I fear we’ll not escape it,” she responded.

Egan refused to allow her mood to deteriorate any further. With only one attractive option open to him, he seized it. “Bolt the door.”

Oriana’s frown deepened, but he had issued a command, not a polite request, and she quickly complied. “Did you hear footsteps? I’ve no weapons here. Will we need them?”

“No. We’re safe for the moment, but we don’t want to be disturbed while we’re making love.”

Caught by surprise, Oriana remained by the door. “You’re not well enough,” she argued softly.

Egan gestured for her to approach him. He did not care if he was risking his health when Oriana was in such great need of reassurance, and he lowered his voice to a more seductive level. “There are many ways to make love, and we’ll indulge in one that won’t cause any harm to either of us. Now come here and sit across my lap.”

Blessed with a vivid imagination, Oriana readily grasped what he had in mind, but she was still reluctant to join him on the bed. “No, I’ve not been with you enough. I’ll be too clumsy and hurt you.”

“Oriana,” he nearly sang, “you’re never clumsy.” He unfastened his belt to loosen his pants, but still she did not move. Where was the confident young woman who had shocked him by stepping out of her shift? he wondered. Of course, that was before she had seen Kieran carve up his side. And before he had stupidly sent her away. It was no wonder she was so skittish.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted only to please you. Just come sit beside me here on the bed, and we’ll see which of us can guess what they’ll bring us for dinner.”

It was such a silly contest, Oriana could not help but smile, and relieved he had given up on making love, she crawled up on the bed and made herself comfortable by his side. “You have the advantage because you know all the likely possibilities,” she complained. “I’d not eaten
wild boar until I came here, and I’ve no idea what wonders might be served tonight.”

Egan fought to contain the width of his grin as he slid his arm around her shoulders to pull her close. “Fish, perhaps.”

“Oysters?” Oriana guessed.

“Aye, oysters would be far better than gruel.” He took her left hand in his and brought her fingertips to his lips.

“When have you ever been served a bowl of gruel, my lord?” He was warm, and she relaxed against him. His kiss on her palm tickled, and she laughed.

She looked up at him and watched his eyes close as he bent his head to kiss her. As their lips met, she knew she had been tricked. Still, it was a long, slow, luscious kiss that turned her thoughts in the direction of his. His taste was delicious, and silently begging for more, she leaned into him.

He shifted position slightly to slip his hand beneath her gown and caressed her foot, then encircled her calf, and spread an adoring trail up the length of her thigh. Oriana remained hesitant to go any further, but when Egan was moving so slowly, and enticing such delicious sensations, she swallowed her protests and kissed him again. He slipped his fingers between her legs to tease her with sweet, fluttering strokes that made her ache for more, but even as her breathing quickened, she relaxed to allow him to set the pace.

Egan enjoyed going slowly with Oriana. He was thrilled to have such a responsive bride, and that her slender body held so many tantalizing curves and inviting crevices provided him with nearly endless inspiration. He used her own wetness to smooth his fingertips and traced the same intimate patterns he had once savored with his tongue.

When she began to gasp, he took a firm hold on her waist to lift her across his lap, and with no further complaints of inexperience, she freed him from his soft woolen pants and guided him into her core. She rolled
her hips to take him deep, but she felt so hot and tight, he held her still to prolong the glorious sensation.

He wound his hands in her hair to pull her mouth back to his and kissed her, his thrusts deepening as she tensed her inner muscles around him. He was in no pain at all and risked dropping his hands to her hips to raise her slightly and then lowered her in an easy twisting motion that pleasured them both. He had never restrained himself with another woman, but moving with such deliberate care heightened each exquisite sensation.

Balanced on her knees, Oriana rose up, and then again took him deep. She had such delicacy and grace, and yet a hunger that matched his own. She coaxed the response he fought to withhold, and all too soon a consuming desire outstripped his restraint.

Egan smothered an exultant cry in her curls and felt her responding joy shudder through them both. He kept her locked in an embrace until his arms began to ache with the effort, but even then, he was reluctant to let her go.

“If this is a curse,” he whispered, “then I welcome it without a trace of dread.”

Oriana rolled her hips against his and felt him again swell within her. She moved with a graceful dip to ease the tantalizing ache. Then, fearing pleasure this great would surely cost them dearly, she lost herself in his kiss rather than weep for a future they might not live to share.

Early the next morning, Albyn rode out to the forest with Yowan and his sons. Yowan had been eager to describe their progress and waved his arms in elaborate gestures, but Albyn needed to actually see the wing for himself. The men had hoisted it into the branches of a tall oak to disguise it from view, and the younger and more nimble of Yowan’s lads scrambled up the tree to carefully handle the rope and lower it.

The lightweight frame was lashed together with sinews. It was larger than Albyn had expected, but beautiful in its simplicity. He walked the length of it, and noted how the sides duplicated the bone structure of a bird’s wings. Thicker branches reinforced the center, from which Egan would be suspended.

He nodded thoughtfully. “What will you use to cover it?”

Yowan exchanged an anxious glance with his sons. “We’ve been debating our choices. A good stout linen should carry a man, but we’re not satisfied with merely getting Egan aloft.”

“Neither am I,” Albyn agreed. “I’ll get whatever you need.”

Yowan raised a hand. “Leave it to us. We’re thinking we’ll stretch calfskin taut as though we were making a
drum. The wind rushing up Mount Royal is as unpredictable as a woman’s heart. Using skins will add a bit of weight to the wing, but the necessary strength is what we’re after.”

Yowan continued to study his handiwork before looking up. “How is Egan faring?” he asked. “Is his side on the mend?”

Albyn could only voice his hopes. “I believe so.”

“Good. When we have the covering in place, I’ll fashion a leather harness to suspend him from the wing, but he’ll need to be agile enough to shift his weight to control it in the wind.” He gestured with surprising grace to suggest a dipping and gliding motion.

Albyn was impressed not only with Yowan’s accomplishments thus far, but also with his vision. “There will be little, if any, opportunity for practice.”

“We’re moving with all possible haste, my lads and I, but I’d not want Kieran to glimpse our wing and improve upon his own design.”

“Then how will Egan practice? He has to try the wing before the eve of Samhain. He can’t just strap on the harness and leap off Mount Royal.”

“I’m afraid he’ll have to,” Yowan’s eldest son said. “But Kieran will have no advantage. His men are copying the tapestry, and while the shape is accurate, it’s too small. He’ll plummet straight into the side of the mountain and bounce on down like a handful of pebbles.”

Albyn brushed aside that gloomy prediction. “Kieran has invited whatever disaster befalls him. Now I’ll delay your work no longer. If you encounter any unforeseen difficulty, summon me immediately.”

“Aye, that we’ll do,” Yowan replied, and he and his sons bent down beside their fanciful creation to make certain the bindings were secure.

As Albyn returned to the fortress, he worried a healthy man would have trouble handling a wing on his first flight. One with a weakened left side would be at a severe
disadvantage. There was no point in sharing his apprehensions with Egan, however, and he fixed on an encouraging smile before knocking on Adelaine’s door.

When Oriana welcomed him into the room with a charming smile that lit her eyes with a bright sparkle, he knew instinctively what had caused the great improvement in her mood. He felt a momentary flash of jealousy, but promptly smothered it with gratitude that Egan felt well enough to make love to his bride.

Egan had been pacing the chamber to build his strength, but he welcomed Albyn’s interruption and sat down on the end of the bed. “What have you found?” he asked.

“Yowan does indeed know how to construct a wing, and he and his sons are well on their way to completing it. I would like for you to practice though, and it will be difficult to arrange without Kieran benefiting as greatly as you.”

Egan winked at Oriana, but he wished she had somewhere to go to allow him to converse freely with Albyn. During the day, female guests usually gathered in the great hall to embroider or to simply exchange gossip with Ula, but that would be the last place Oriana would feel at ease. He had not considered how her lack of family and friends would limit her activities and deeply regretted the oversight.

With Albyn shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, and Egan eyeing her with a preoccupied frown, Oriana quickly grasped what neither wished to say. “From what I can glimpse through the narrow windows, it appears to be a pleasant morning. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll venture out for a stroll along the bluff.”

“Aye, you should take advantage of the fine weather,” Egan urged. “Each day grows cooler.”

Albyn watched as Oriana donned her cloak, and he moved aside to allow her sufficient room to pass. She was gone before he had thought of anything worth saying,
but he felt foolish for not at least wishing her an enjoyable outing.

“Hurry and find your own woman,” Egan chided. “The way you continually drool over mine is damn annoying.”

Albyn was fully aware of how poor a job he had done of hiding his desire, and he accepted the criticism with a careless shrug. “Oriana is not only lovely, she’s clever enough to give us the opportunity to plot alone. How do you really feel?”

“If I move with deliberate care, there’s little pain, but flying will demand a flexibility I’ve yet to regain.”

“You still have five days,” Albyn murmured, “but don’t test your limits until you must. Of course, when it comes to your charming bride, it’s plain you already have.”

Egan checked his laugh to avoid straining his side and produced only a hoarse chuckle. “Is it that easy to observe?”

“Aye, there’s definitely a gleam in the eye of a woman who’s been well loved.”

“And a man as well, I imagine,” Egan insisted. He drew in a shallow breath, and then pulled in another. “I’ll not relieve you of your promise though. Should I strap on the wing and sail off into the clouds, or worse, crash into the rocky sides of Mount Royal, you must spirit Oriana away while everyone is still cheering for Kieran.”

Albyn gave a grudging nod. “Kieran is the more likely to die.”

Egan stared up at his friend and wondered if he actually believed that they held the advantage. “What if Kieran suffers several broken bones and Garrick hands you the ritual dagger. Could you end his life?”

“Garrick helped raise Kieran, and he would protect him rather than demand I slit his throat. It’s you he’d want me to kill, to torture us both, but I’d sooner turn the dagger on him. I hope he knows that, but before Oriana
returns, I suppose we should discuss all the possibilities, no matter how distasteful or remote.”

Egan was surprised by the dark anger that deepened Albyn’s voice when he had spoken Garrick’s name. He had not heard of one Druid stabbing another, and he had no wish to inspire such a murder when Albyn would never escape the fortress alive.

“If after the flight, I’m no more than a twitching mass of broken bones, do not hesitate to plant the dagger in my heart,” he urged forcefully. “It’s Oriana you’ve sworn to protect, and I’ll gladly buy her life with my blood.”

Albyn understood precisely what he might have to do, but Egan’s death would be far too high a price to pay for the privilege of serving as Oriana’s escort. He had to force a reply over the painful knot in his throat. “I want you to win this ridiculous challenge and live to be a very old man, but should there be a need, I’ll gladly guard Oriana’s life with my own.”

Convinced that he would, Egan let the matter rest. “Tomorrow I hope to be well enough to ride, and we’ll take the falcons out to hunt.”

“You want to hunt? You can’t miss the taste of pheasant that greatly.”

After shifting his weight forward on the balls of his feet, Egan rose, and with a careful stretch reached his full height. “You’ll have to agree it’s delicious meat, but what I really mean to do is watch my birds in flight. It sounds as though Yowan’s wing will get me in the air, but the man who soars the longest will be the victor.”

“He must also survive the trip back to earth,” Albyn interjected.

“Coming down will be the easy part. But I mean to learn how a hawk stays in the sky for as long as he pleases. Oriana insists the birds should be studied, and I believe her.”

He began to pace again. Rather than favor his left side, he took carefully measured steps of equal length. “You saw the wing. What do you think of it?”

“It was beautiful. I just wish there were a way for you to practice.”

“We’ll look for a hill,” Egan suggested. “Or perhaps I could gain sufficient speed from the back of a horse to be lifted into the air.”

Aghast at that preposterous thought, Albyn pointed toward the bed. “Go back to sleep,” he ordered. “Perhaps when you awaken your mind will be clear.”

“My head is already clearer than yours will ever be. Now leave me be,” Egan responded without breaking his stride.

Albyn hesitated as he weighed what he wished to say. “There’s something else. I have listened as I promised, but if there was a plot to kill your father, I’ve not overheard so much as a whisper of it. I did speak with Quill, however, in hopes he might have observed something that would help us.”

Grasping that hope, Egan turned slowly. “Had he?”

“No, but he mentioned your father had asked him to compose a tribute for your mother. Apparently her memory remained dear to him, and he’d ask Quill to sing her song whenever they were alone together.”

Egan paused to peer out the window at the clear blue sky and wished his future were equally untroubled. “It was just as I suspected then,” he murmured. “He treated Ula well and frequently shared her bed, but he continued to love my mother.” As he would cherish Oriana to the end of his days.

“Let’s watch Ula,” Albyn proposed. “She must believe she’s escaped suspicion in your father’s death, and perhaps she’ll grow careless and inadvertently reveal her guilt.”

“I’d rather watch a spider weave its web,” Egan replied darkly.

Albyn had not meant to depress Egan’s mood and hastened to distract him. “Come dine with us in the great hall tonight if you’re able. It will build confidence in your cause if the others see you.”

“Aye, I know the mere appearance of weakness will harm me as greatly as another knife wound. I’ll be there tonight rather than feed the rumor that I’m too weak to appear. I just can’t promise I’ll be able to swallow what I’m served.”

“As long as you are there, it will be enough,” Albyn replied.

After Albyn had gone, Egan continued to pace. He had spent too much time in bed the last two days to crave more sleep. Sleep was for old men, not a young one bent on outwitting his brother.

The flight would be difficult at best and at worst fatal, but he could not escape the horrible suspicion that there would be yet another test before he was allowed to reign in peace. He had once been the most confident of men, but perhaps he had merely been stupid not to have anticipated how much could go awry.

Oriana walked along the bluff thinking she had always been occupied with the business of living, but now her days stretched out before her without a single chore to do. Not that caring for Egan did not demand her full attention, but it did not require the same effort as walking from dawn to dusk, or foraging for grain in a field a farmer and his kin had picked clean.

The Dál Cais had food aplenty and handsomely carved chests overflowing with finely tailored garments and a treasure in gold and jewels. But she stayed only for the joy of being with Egan. He was the love of her life, and she would cease to exist should she lose him.

As she returned to the bailey, her attention was immediately drawn to a cloud white mare tied outside the stable. A wiry red-haired lad was combing out her mane with long, furious strokes, and while agitated, the horse was tethered on too short a rope to escape his brutish attentions.

“She needs a lighter hand,” Oriana called out as she approached him.

Startled by the rebuke, the boy lost his grip on the comb. He made a hurried grab but succeeded only in flipping it into the air where it tumbled out of reach before landing in the dirt. He then got down on his knees to retrieve it, but pulled away rather than risk being trampled under the mare’s dancing hooves.

He sent Oriana a frightened glance, and when she continued to walk toward him, he ran for the forge, where the smith was working at his anvil with a lively clanging beat.

Oriana had not meant to terrify the stable boy, but neither could she have kept quiet and allowed him to abuse the horse. She ran her hand over the mare’s smooth white rump and spoke to her softly. “You’re such a pretty thing and shouldn’t be treated as though you were a shaggy old sheepdog who had muddied his coat.”

The mare tossed her head in apparent agreement and, growing calm, ceased pulling on her tether, which allowed Oriana to scoop up the comb. She ran it carefully through the mare’s mane and worked out the snarls without causing the horse any further distress. Delighted to have some useful work, she hummed happily to herself and failed to notice Albyn’s arrival until he laid a hand on her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he leaned down to whisper. “You ought not to be working in the stable.”

“I’m not actually inside the stable now, am I?” Oriana replied. “Nor am I working. The stable boy was mistreating this mare, and clearly she’s someone’s precious pet. As long as she looks her best, I doubt her owner will care who combed her mane and tail.”

Afraid she had been observed, Albyn glanced over his shoulder and was relieved to discover the daily routine of the fortress had continued uninterrupted all around them. Two girls were drawing water at the well, another carried a basket toward the vegetable and herb garden. There were men stacking firewood, while others unloaded a wagon filled with sacks of grain. He heard the squeal of a pig and the crowing of a rooster.

Several men exchanged bawdy boasts as they rode out to hunt. There were so many guests, many horses had been penned outside the fortress walls. But this particular mare had been singled out for a special purpose.

Oriana was obviously enjoying herself, but when her attentions were completely misplaced, he could not withhold the truth. “This mare is not a pet,” he explained. “When Egan becomes king, there will be a ceremonial marriage between him and the goddess of the land. He’ll slay this white mare, and her flesh will be cooked and eaten. Some kings are rumored to have mated with the white mare before sacrificing her, and to have bathed in the broth boiled from her meat, but I doubt Egan will carry his ceremony to those extremes.”