Dawn Of Desire (8 page)

“If that was their finest effort, then we need to find women possessed of more talent with a needle,” Egan announced before reaching for a flagon of wine.

“The gowns were lovely,” Oriana contradicted sweetly, “and I look forward to wearing them soon.”

Disgusted Oriana would tease him about her eagerness to leave, Egan shot her a disapproving glance. Rather than cower, however, she responded with so dazzling a smile he was left to wonder just what it was she had said. Despite her preference for the forest, she appeared to be perfectly at ease at his table—but then, she had been raised to hold lofty expectations.

Quill, the bard, began another tune about a lovely lady with golden hair. Embarrassed to be so easily distracted, Egan forced himself to glance down the table to the place where his father should have been. His appetite vanished instantly, and he filled his cup with wine and swiftly drank it down. Belatedly recalling the woman at his side, he again grabbed the flagon to fill her cup.

“I see your manners have not improved in your travels,” Ula chided. “It is a great pity that you lack your father’s grace.”

Had Oriana not caught his wrist, Egan would have flung his silver cup at his stepmother. “Father still made grave mistakes,” he taunted, and left Ula to imagine just what, or rather who, he had in mind.

Garrick had been standing in the shadows, and thinking the evening a wonderful success, he took Kieran’s elbow as he passed by and urged him back to the table. “We are all troubled,” he mused as he folded himself down upon a thick cushion beside Ula. “But we share in a common hope for a better future.”

Egan stared at the Druid, and took immediate exception to how hungrily he eyed Oriana. At the same time,
he felt Oriana press close as though she shared his low opinion of the silver-haired Garrick. “No future, however fine,” he challenged, “will compensate us for the great treasure we’ve lost.”

Garrick nodded absently. “Of course, but we must begin to make plans for Samhain and the coming of winter. The whole clan will gather then and proclaim you the new king.”

The mention of the late autumn holiday forced Oriana to recall her desire for a warm cloak, and how swiftly that pursuit had led her to Egan. She glanced around the darkened hall and tried to imagine it ablaze with a hundred torches and filled with his kinsmen, all as broad-shouldered and handsome as he.

“Aye, but it will be a sad day rather than a glad one,” Egan cautioned.

“It always is,” Garrick posed. “But the old must give way to the young. It is as the gods divined.”

“My father died in his prime,” Egan nearly shouted.

“He was my father too,” Kieran interjected. “A fact you continually overlook.”

Egan did not object to sharing a father. It was Ula he could not abide.

Oriana ran her fingertips down his arm and took his hand. She did not need to study his expression to feel his rage, and yet there was something else in the room, a presence as pervasive as the smoky scent of the fire. She puzzled over it silently, then caught Ula’s lethal glance and recognized it for hatred’s rancid stench.

Apparently unaware of Ula’s mood, Garrick appeared to be preoccupied with the meal, a rich vegetable stew laced with smoked ham, which he sopped from his silver platter with hunks of barley and oat bread. Kieran was staring off into the distance, a look of thorough disgust pulling at his finely shaped mouth. Ula now sat brooding over her wine, and while Oriana had not eaten in a long while, she had to force herself to take a few bites of bread and stew.

She hoped that the rest of Egan’s powerful family were a more personable lot, but the old terror kept tugging at her conscience, and she feared the danger to Egan would continue to compound. Then with a sickening dread she began to think it odd that none of the nobles had tarried there to await his return. Surely they would have been summoned at Cadell’s death and hastened to the fortress to bury him.

“Where are your kin?” she whispered. “How could they have come and gone so swiftly?”

Egan brought his finger to his lips to encourage silence before he replied. “They use the river as well as fine horses for travel. That’s the beauty of this place and its curse for our enemies.”

Overhearing their exchange, Kieran joined in. “A man could grow old awaiting Egan’s arrival. Do not fault our kin for returning to their own homes. They will spend Samhain with us.”

That it would be the last festival before the arrival of a long, cold winter lent the feast special significance, but with Egan so unwilling to celebrate, Oriana doubted anyone else would enjoy it. Appreciating Kieran’s concern, she sent him a grateful smile and was surprised by how quickly a deep blush filled his cheeks. While it was obvious Egan barely tolerated him, she decided she liked Kieran and would continue to treat him kindly.

She caught Garrick staring at her, but Egan appeared to be in no hurry to complete the meal he had scarcely tasted, and so she remained seated quietly at his side. Directing her attention elsewhere, she gradually became aware of a gathering of Druids at another table placed off to the side. Apparently they had been so quiet she had not noticed them when she and Egan had entered, but she could not be certain the group hadn’t just taken their places.

The whole fortress was filled with shadows, but she trusted the
knowing
to protect her as valiantly as the champion by her side. Of course, she already knew better than
to go anywhere near a Druid, and here she was seated at the same table with one.

As the meal progressed, serving maids scurried around the low table to replenish the wine, stew, bread, cheeses, and fruit. Oriana sensed their fear, for it was a palpable presence as dank as the fortress’s perpetual chill. The young women wore their hair in long braids and were dressed in gowns far finer than those in which she had arrived. They hovered near Egan and offered an assortment of treats.

Oriana saw Kieran glance their way and frown; then Garrick spoke and again caught his attention. From what Oriana overheard, they were still discussing Samhain, and the possibility of several marriages taking place at that propitious time. Recognizing none of the names of the prospective brides and grooms, she munched a bite of apple rolled in chopped walnuts.

She leaned close to Egan to whisper, “It’s plain they prefer to gossip rather than converse. To whom do you usually speak?” She regretted the question the instant it left her lips, and after resting her hand upon his sleeve, she struggled to take it back. “I’m sorry. I know it was your father.”

Egan shifted uncomfortably, then responded with a hushed comment meant solely for Oriana’s ears. “Ula speaks incessantly of nothing, and Garrick pretends to listen. Kieran is probably daydreaming about hawks and horses.”

“Are they not your interests as well?”

Egan gave a grudging nod. “Aye, but it is not enough to make me like him.”

“A man who makes enemies in his own house is surely a—” This time Oriana caught herself in time, but Egan completed the thoughtless insult for her.

“Fool? That word has been spoken too often of late,” he swore.

Egan’s stern expression did not invite further comment, and Oriana was sorry she had said anything at all.
Kieran looked no less happy and was sullenly slurping up his stew. He made an occasional murmur to join in his mother’s conversation with Garrick, but even without Egan’s insight, it was plain to her Keiran wasn’t listening. He also sent frequent glances toward the empty place at the table, and Oriana saw the sorrow Egan refused to see. She thought it terribly sad the brothers could not comfort each other during a time of such tremendous loss.

“We’ve heard little from you this night, Oriana,” Garrick prompted suddenly. “Won’t you tell us something of your people and how you and Egan met?”

“She’s not here for your entertainment,” Egan cautioned. “That she is my lady is knowledge enough.”

“But Egan, we should invite her family to join us for Samhain,” Ula argued, seeking what might be a wonderful opportunity to belittle them. “If they must travel far, the invitation should be extended immediately.”

“No, there’s no need for that,” Egan replied.

Sensing something amiss, Ula immediately seized upon it. “We would be delighted to meet your kin, Oriana. To exclude them from the celebration while you are here would be a grave insult to you as well as them.”

Oriana was seated so close she could feel Egan draw in a deep breath to rebuff that demand, and she spoke first to save him the trouble. She smiled and showed the fine manners her mother had instilled.

“I am quite alone in the world, my lady, but thank you for thinking of my family. If they were able, they would surely be delighted to accept your kind invitation.”

“Surely you are not an orphan,” Kieran interjected.

“Her story is a tragic one,” Egan offered quickly. “I’ll not force her to relive it simply to satisfy your curiosity.”

Sweeping aside that objection, Garrick persisted. “Perhaps you’ll confide in us another time.”

Oriana shuddered at the malicious glint in his eye and slid her arm through Egan’s to silently beseech his protection. “My family was precious to me, my lord, and I’ll
mourn them forever in my heart, but once endured, sorrow is best left unspoken.”

Clearly frustrated by her refusal, Garrick turned back to Ula and offered a quiet jest which made her laugh. Kieran appeared disgusted by that bit of levity, and after offering a hasty good night, left the hall. Barely acknowledging her son’s departure, Ula continued making plans for Samhain.

Oriana was relieved beyond words that Garrick and Ula had lost interest in her so quickly, but she suspected that she had merely been granted a temporary reprieve. If only to identify her clan, they would make subtle inquiries on the morrow, or the next day at the latest, and what could she possibly say?

Egan shook his head slightly to clear it. Then, recognizing he was well on his way to being drunk, he slowly rose to his feet and offered his hand to assist Oriana.

“The hour grows late,” he said.

Oriana had to restrain the impulse to leap to her feet and flee the hall, but managed to rise gracefully. “Thank you for your kind hospitality, my lady. I bid you a restful night.”

As if on cue, Ula burst into tears. “With my dear Cadell dead, sleep will surely elude me.”

“I will mix you a soothing sleeping potion, my lady. Come, allow me to escort you to your chamber.”

Egan waited for the pair, huddled close, to leave, then slid his arm around Oriana’s waist. He leaned down to whisper, “I’ve always suspected Garrick was Ula’s lover.”

Considering it unwise to speculate where the other Druids and solicitous servants might overhear, Oriana remained silent until they reached the winding staircase. “I doubt Ula would have dared incur your father’s wrath, but this whole fortress is alive with evil forces. I do not envy you having to rule here.”

His thoughts moving in another direction entirely, Egan was grateful flickering torchlight hid the hunger in
his expression. “There are compensations,” he murmured, thinking she was most definitely among them.

Oriana was too preoccupied to catch the husky note of desire in his voice. “I may have survived my first meal here, but we should have fabricated some credible story about my background. To describe me as your mistress obviously isn’t enough. Garrick will continue to pry, wheedle, and coax, but he’ll never accept what little we told him.”

Egan stroked her hair. “You needn’t worry so. My father never relied upon Garrick as Ula does, and he has no real power here.”

“No, you’re very wrong. The Druids will fight to preserve and extend their influence, whatever the cost.”

Convinced of the truth of her words, Oriana girded herself for another bitter argument, but as she stepped out into the corridor, a Druid standing by Egan’s doorway brought her worst fears to life. He was taller than Garrick, and with his hood pulled low, even more imposing. Sighting them, he came forward with a long purposeful stride that billowed his dark cloak into ominous wings.

Oriana shrank back against Egan, but if her name had been enough to alert the Druids to the very real threat she posed, then no champion could save her. Her breath caught in her throat as the Druid reached out, and she fainted before the dark folds of his sleeves could brush her face.

Oriana awoke with a start. She was lying across Egan’s bed, and both he and the Druid were leaning over her. Each wore a mask of such tender concern that she was ashamed to have been so badly frightened.

The Druid’s cowl now rested on his shoulders. His hair was the color of ripening wheat, and his eyes were as vivid a green as the first leaves of spring. He appeared to have wandered far in his travels, for he was deeply tanned, and in his own way, as handsome a man as Egan.

“Albyn,” she whispered.

“I’m gratified that you’ve heard my name, but you must rest, my lady,” he urged. “I should not want you to faint again while Egan and I were not present to catch you.”

Relieved she had responded so promptly to the cool cloth he had dabbed at her cheeks, he leaned back and shot Egan a grin. “While I’d not thought it possible, your lady is even more lovely awake. I feared you were alone with your grief and am pleased you’ve had her comfort.”

Unable to accept that absurd assumption graciously, Egan moved back a step and straightened up. “Oriana is scarcely the type to faint.” He studied the incriminating blush flooding her cheeks and easily drew the correct
conclusion. “You’re the one who frightened her so badly, Albyn, and I’ve never known you to have that affect upon women.”

With Albyn standing at the foot of the wide bed and Egan at her side, Oriana felt trapped and had to fight her earlier breath-stealing panic. “Please forgive me, Albyn. This fortress abounds with menacing shadows, and I’d not expected Egan’s dear friend to emerge from one.”

Albyn responded with a mock bow. “You are forgiven, my lady. Perhaps I should sing when I approach so that you’ll recognize me even in the dim light.”

Egan thought Albyn’s charm misplaced, but Oriana’s bashful smile tore at his heart. “I’ve heard you sing, and Oriana won’t be the only lass to faint if you begin howling through our corridors.”

“I do not howl.” Albyn was tempted to hurl the damp cloth at Egan, but at the last moment wadded it up and set it beside the pitcher of water. “You must not believe a word Egan says about me,” he warned. “He’s my closest friend, but he treats the rushes beneath his feet with more compassion.”

“Have some compassion for our ears,” Egan countered.

Oriana listened without comment as the two old friends exchanged teasing taunts. They had easily accepted her explanation for her fright, but should they delve any deeper, she was certain they would swiftly recognize its true cause. She moved to put the wall at her back, but the chill stone offered no consolation.

Egan watched her draw a fur up to her chin and assumed she must be tired. He thought he had had enough wine to deaden his pain and bring rest, but now that Albyn had arrived, he longed to confide his anguish over his father’s untimely death.

“A fire should be banked in your room. Let’s converse there so Oriana might rest,” Egan suggested.

Albyn immediately moved toward the door. “Of course. I bid you a good night, dear lady.” He paused a
moment to muse aloud, “Though I’ll not sing tonight, your name does inspire music. A peasant once told me of a magical child named Oriana, whom he believed to have a gift for prophecy. That she exists is a persistent rumor, but she is more elusive than the gods, and I doubt anyone has ever actually met her.”

Oriana dug her nails into her palms. She knew Egan trusted Albyn with his life, and therefore hers, but she trusted no Druid and never would. “ ’Tis a shame such fanciful tales never prove true,” she responded wistfully.

After Albyn moved through the door, Egan paused to look back and offer a hushed good night. “Rest easy, my lady. I am still your champion.”

Oriana could only nod and hope he would keep her secret. She doubted she would catch a wink of sleep before he returned.

Growing up, Albyn had lived in a small chamber on the same corridor as Egan’s room. It was near the stairway and lacked a fine view of the sea, but as he stepped across the threshold, the years melted away and he felt at home.

“How could this have happened?” he asked. “I don’t recall Cadell ever being ill in all the years I knew him.”

“Nor do I.” Egan sat down on the end of the bed and rested his head in his hands. While he discounted what Ula had told him, he shared her words with Albyn. “I fear I might never know what really happened, but I can not bear the thought of how terribly he must have suffered while I was away.”

Pained by his friend’s torment, Albyn moved to the hearth and turned his back toward the crackling fire. He had studied with the wisest of Druids, a man who had tutored him in the vital lessons of history and claimed the future was foretold in dreams. He had also taught him the great value of listening to enhance good judgment. Albyn still had to chew the inside of his cheek to remain quiet, but he heard more than regret coloring Egan’s disbelief.

“Could something other than fate have hastened his death?” Albyn whispered.

“He had enemies; we all do,” Egan mused, “but they would have challenged him in battle.”

Growing warm, Albyn pulled off his cloak and rolled it around his arms. He laid the resulting bundle upon a low chest and widened his stance. His gray tunic and trousers were worn and did little to disguise his muscular body.

“Granted, but you must still suspect a sinister force. Whatever your decision, I’ll stand with you.”

Egan glanced up. “I’ve not known a Druid warrior. Are you to be the first?”

Uncomfortable now that the subject had shifted to him, Albyn shrugged mirthlessly. “I had such grand dreams when I left here, but I was little more than a reckless boy. I might make a talented bard despite my lack of fine voice, but I’d longed to become more.”

Intrigued, Egan rested his hand on the bed and leaned toward him. “Do you wish to interpret the law as a judge? You possess the requisite fine mind.”

Albyn weighed his words carefully, for he had kept his own counsel for so long it was now difficult to speak freely. “That I have a keen mind is precisely the problem. I believed the Druids possessed all knowledge, all wisdom, all that’s imperative to learn in life, but once I became a part of them, I found only fragments of truth. I swear you and I discovered more about the world racing our mounts against the wind than I’ve mastered in all the years since.”

Egan was stunned, for he had never challenged the beliefs Albyn had just cast aside. “But what of the secret ceremonies?”

“There are secrets,” Albyn admitted thoughtfully. “But none that revealed what I truly ache to know. It’s the future I long to see, but the silent stars, nor fleeting dreams, nor even the bloody entrails of animals sacrificed to the gods reveal anything to me.”

Growing cautious at that admission, Albyn hastened to the door and peered out. The torches along the corridor were growing dim, but no one was about. He re-closed the door, and relieved their privacy was assured, leaned back against it.

“You know what Garrick, or any other Druid, would do to me for voicing my doubts?”

Egan drew in such a deep breath his chest began to hurt. “I imagine they would inflict hideous tortures.”

“Aye, they’d begin with those.” Albyn held his breath for a moment, and then laughed at the absurd drama of life. “It’s good to be home, Egan. By all the gods, it’s good to be home.”

Egan pushed himself off the end of the bed. “I’ll say only that it’s good to have you here. We’ll not repeat this conversation to anyone,” he promised. “But if I must avenge my father’s death, I’ll command you to fight by my side. Your leaving the Druids will be my choice then, not yours, and should any man dare to raise a hand against you, he will have made an enemy of the king.”

Albyn stepped aside to allow him to pass. Not even kings dared anger the Druids, but he knew Egan was sincere. “You’ve also been blessed with a keen mind, my lord.”

Egan punched his old friend on the shoulder as he walked out. “I’ve the better voice, too. Meet me at dawn, and we’ll hunt as we once did.”

“I shall look forward to it,” Albyn promised, but as he prepared for bed in the small chamber that had been his one true home, he doubted anything could ever be as fine as those days long ago.

Egan slid his door open slowly so as not to awaken Oriana, but she was pacing in front of the fire rather than asleep on the foot of his bed or huddled uncomfortably in his chair. “You needn’t have waited up for me,” he said.

Oriana ran her fingers through the curls at her temple
and shook out her hair. In truth, she had been awaiting the arrival of doom. “There is so much we must discuss,” she responded. “To begin, I had not expected to remain here until Samhain.”

“I had not expected to find my father dead.” Clearly considering the matter closed, he sat down on the bed to untie his shoes.

Oriana, however, had barely begun, and promptly dismissed his rude rebuff. “I’ll grant that is a far deeper disappointment, but you wished my advice on the loyalties of your kin, and it complicates matters that I must await Samhain to meet them.

“We had not anticipated Albyn’s arrival either, and with him but a thought away from recognizing precisely who I really am, whatever advantage I might have provided you may swiftly be lost. Perhaps the wisest course would be for me to depart before my presence provokes any more troubling questions.”

Egan rolled his eyes. “I think not. I put an end to our companions’ curiosity easily enough tonight and will continue to do so. As for Albyn, he’s far too preoccupied with his own problems to care about you.”

Obviously insulted, Oriana replied with a threatening glance, but Egan was not intimidated. From one moment to the next he was never certain what to expect from her, but still, she appeared especially anxious this night.

“There’s something more you’re not telling me,” he insisted. When she looked away, he was certain he had hit upon a secret worth hearing, and after peeling off his shoes, rose to confront her.

Oriana refused to look up at him. If he did not realize the threat she posed to every Druid’s power, she would not hand him that weapon to use against her. She would never endanger his life, but doubted he would continue to be a faithful champion should the Druids condemn her.

“I’ve never known you to be this strangely quiet,” Egan complained. “If you’ll not share any additional worry, share whatever you can about Albyn. I doubt he
needs to select one of your Stones of Tomorrow for his future to be revealed. Come on, now. You needn’t cling to your shy pose when we’re alone. Tell me what you can.”

Oriana raised her chin proudly. “I’ve no wish to see into a Druid’s future.”

Egan offered the chair, and when Oriana refused, he eased himself down into it. “Are you admitting that you’re unable to do so?”

“No. I simply won’t. There’s a vast difference between the two.”

“I’ll concede the point, but Albyn might have greater need of your advice than even I do, so I’m begging you to give it.”

“A king does not beg,” Oriana reminded him.

Egan doubted a more stubborn wench had ever been born. “There are times when I regret allowing Duncan to live. Perhaps if I’d left his headless body twitching in the road, you’d be more eager to do my bidding.”

“Perhaps,” Oriana agreed absently, but she did not enjoy his grisly image and dropped to her knees beside him. Eager to soften his stance, she was forced to risk trusting him with at least a partial truth.

“You must understand, to tell a Druid’s fortune is to challenge his own abilities in that regard. When it might provoke a furious response, I dare not do it—not even for you.”

The fear in her eyes was so real that he was surprised her true predicament had eluded him. Her glossy curls caught the fire’s churning light, and he stroked her hair gently. “We may have a strange pact, but I’ll not break it. If you won’t tell Albyn’s fortune, then tell me instead if I can trust him.”

Oriana tipped her head, unconsciously leaning into his caress. “You won’t tell him what I’ve said, nor repeat it to any of the others?”

Egan had already given her his word and found this additional request merely annoying. “What? And risk having them kidnap you to serve them?”

Oriana had been terrified of a swift death rather than being held captive, but she nodded as though being forced to tell fortunes for another were her sole concern. “You must swear it,” she insisted.

Egan had to shift in the chair to raise his right hand. “I promise, yet again,” he said, but she was so very lovely in the firelight that it was impossible for him to be cross with her. When she rose and moved a step away, he nearly cried out, and he reached out to brush his fingertips along the hem of her tunic.

Completely unaware of Egan’s change in mood, Oriana stared into the leaping flames to focus her mind. She called upon the
knowing
to speak of Albyn’s fate, but rather than the calm reply she had always heard, this was a mere whisper above the crackling fire. She had to strain to catch it all.

After a long moment, she spoke softly. “You were right; Albyn is deeply troubled. He’s chosen the wrong path in life, and his heart longs to begin a different journey.” She saw glorious things for him but limited her response to satisfy the minimum of Egan’s request.

“Before Albyn departs, he’ll prove his worth to you a dozen times over. He is more brother than friend, but when the time comes, you must bid him farewell without argument.”

Egan had fiercely opposed Albyn’s desire to forsake the fortress, and their friendship, to pursue a Druid’s quest, but Oriana’s prediction offered little satisfaction that he had been right years ago. “How will I recognize that crucial moment?” he asked.

“It will be as clear as your own reflection in a placid lake,” Oriana assured him.

“Are you thinking of that magical lake where your mother met Lugh?”

The impatient edge had returned to his voice, but suddenly weary, she refused to argue. “Yes, but any lake will do.”

Egan stared up at her, as much to memorize her delicate
features as to study her closed expression. She had accurately described Albyn’s dilemma when he had given her no real clue as to its origin, but he wanted still more.