by Phoebe Conn
Then, certain it would only anger Egan anew, he turned his thoughts to Kieran as she had asked. He remembered a handsome boy and was uncertain how old the lad would be now. Albyn got on his horse, then hurried his mount and caught up with his companions just as they reached the fortress gate.
The man standing guard threw out his chest proudly and shouted, “Bevan has arrived, my lord.”
As they entered the bailey, a dozen fine horses could be seen outside the stable, and Egan would have recognized their owner by their colorful red and green saddlecloths even without the guard’s announcement. He slid down from Raven’s back and handed his reins to a groom before swinging Oriana to the ground.
“Bevan is a cousin,” he explained. “He was close to my father in age, but never his confidant.”
Before Oriana could reply, Bevan exited the inner fortress and came striding toward them. He was as tall a man as Egan and half again as wide. His brown hair was streaked with gray, but he moved with youthful vigor. His deep-set brown eyes gave him a hawkish appearance, and his mouth formed a bitter downward curve.
“Welcome, cousin,” Egan called. “Have all in your party been made comfortable?”
Egan could feel Oriana pulling away, and took a firm grip on her hand to hold her close. Albyn had continued on into the stable with his borrowed mount, and Egan could not blame him for avoiding Bevan, who tended to be difficult even on his better days.
“Aye, as always,” Bevan replied. He halted a few steps away and rested his fists on his hips. “I heard a wild tale about you and Duncan O Floinn and thought you should spend a day or two as king before such foolish brawling takes you. I sent word to the others, and they’ll arrive by the morrow. Is this the fair lass who caused all the trouble?”
“Oh, no,” Oriana gasped, for if Duncan had described her with any accuracy, Bevan would surely know who, and what, she was. The truth might have already reached Garrick’s ears, and then both she and Egan would be in terrible danger.
Egan felt her tremble and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. “It was Duncan himself who caused his own misery. If he’s spoken a single word against Oriana, he’ll not live a day longer than it takes me to find him.”
Bevan nodded thoughtfully. “You needn’t search, for I heard only that he’d lost both his horse and sword when the two of you fought over a woman.”
Bevan cocked his head slightly to observe Oriana with undisguised admiration. “I’ll grant that you’re worth a good fight. What’s your clan, lass? I might know your father.”
Egan felt Oriana sway against him and hurriedly cleared his throat. “Oriana lost her parents years ago. She’s part of the Dál Cais now.”
Leaving the stable, Albyn stepped just close enough to notice how pale Oriana had become. Clearly she was not flattered by Egan’s eagerness to include her, and he had a sick feeling something was terribly amiss. He had never cared much for Bevan, but when the man’s gaze swung his way, he greeted him warmly.
“I’ve been away many years, and you may not remember me. I’m Innis’s son, Albyn.”
Bevan appeared to call upon memory for a brief moment, then nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, I remember you well enough. Whatever trouble Egan found as a lad, you were in twice as deep. I trust the Druids have tamed you.”
“They have certainly tried,” Albyn replied, unable to suppress a sly grin.
“You must remain for the ceremony, although it’s doubtful Garrick will assign you any duties.”
“I shall remain as long as Egan has need of me.” With that promise, he turned to Egan. “I should seek Garrick before he is forced to summon me. It would be a mistake to anger him with disrespect.”
“I wish you harbored such qualms about angering me.” Egan shook his head in dismay. “Go and find Garrick. We’ll speak again tonight.”
“I must also beg to be excused,” Oriana interjected quickly, and before Egan could forbid it, she hurried toward the inner fortress with Albyn.
“You know Garrick?” she asked in a hushed whisper.
Albyn held the door for her, but took care to reply before either had entered. “Aye, but that I went elsewhere to study makes my opinion of him plain.”
She had not thought she would ever dare touch a Druid, but his deep regard for Egan made her bold, and she rested her hand lightly upon his sleeve. “I doubt Garrick has improved in any regard while you’ve been away. Take care not to make an enemy of him.”
Albyn’s hand closed over her slender fingers. “You have the most beautiful eyes, and when I look into them, it’s difficult to recall what you’ve said.”
Frightened she had revealed too much, Oriana instantly averted her gaze and raised her gown to start up the winding stair. “I’ll not trouble you then.”
Certain Egan would not approve of a more lengthy conversation, Albyn let her go. She was an extraordinary young woman, and he could not help but wish he had met her first.
Egan found Oriana seated atop his bed combing windblown tangles from her long hair. He hesitated at his door and gestured impatiently. “Come with me. There’s something we must do.”
He had not spent nearly as long with Bevan as Oriana had anticipated, and after laying her comb aside, she rose quite reluctantly. “You have guests. I don’t wish to intrude.”
Egan held his tongue and waited but had nearly lost his tenuous hold on his temper before she crossed the few steps to reach him. He longed to have her do his bidding without constantly questioning his motives, but feared she had lived too long in her own world to follow any man.
“I want to show you my mother’s chamber. It’s not been used since she died, but my father had it kept ready, as though she were expected to return.”
Intrigued, Oriana willingly followed him along the corridor. “How touching, but what must Ula have thought of his lingering devotion to another woman?”
Egan paused in the beam of light cast by a long narrow window. “She couldn’t have been pleased, but I don’t believe my father ever stopped grieving for the wife he’d lost. Ula amused him, certainly satisfied his physical desires, but my mother must have meant so much more to him.”
He looked so sad, Oriana could not help but wonder if he did not recall more of his mother than he would admit. Perhaps that was why he had never accepted Ula, nor the son she’d borne his father.
“Is that why you think so little of Kieran?”
Egan responded with a rueful laugh. “I don’t think of him at all, and you shouldn’t either.”
Egan slid his arm around her shoulders to pull her close as they continued on their way. “My chamber, as well as Kieran’s, Albyn’s, and quarters for guests are on this corridor. We must go past the stairwell to the opposite corridor to visit my mother’s room.”
As they approached the arched doorway, Oriana was buffeted by a wave of icy air. Startled, she raised her hand. “Wait, did you feel a sudden chill just now?”
Egan rested his hand lightly on the door’s iron handle. “The fortress is always cold. I should have had you don a cloak. Come inside and wrap yourself in furs.”
It had been a chill of the spirit rather than of the flesh, and Oriana first peered inside the chamber to assure herself no danger lurked within. What she found was a tidy room with a fur-heaped bed, magnificent floral tapestries lining the walls, and intricately carved chests stacked neatly in the corners. A subtle lavender fragrance hung in the air, as though Adelaine had dressed there that very morning.
As Oriana stepped cautiously over the threshold, she felt not a chill, but instead a depth of sorrow so profound it brought a mist of tears to her eyes. She heard but a whisper of the knowing, and eager for more, raised a finger to her lips in a plea for silence. She waited a long moment, but all trace of the knowing had evaporated as swiftly as dew on a summer morn.
“I’m sorry, I thought there was some insight to be gained, but it has slipped away without revealing itself.”
Egan grabbed a thick fox fur from the bed and
draped it around her shoulders. “Perhaps it will reappear later. I brought you here because these chests contain such beautiful gowns. I want you to wear them rather than wait for Ula’s seamstresses to fashion something new. I’ll not listen to your objections, so for once, do not voice them.”
He gestured for her to take a seat on the bed. Once she had, he sat down close beside her. “We also came here to talk where we’d not be disturbed. I’d not anticipated how curious everyone would be about your family, and you were right, we should have created some believable tale to put the questions to rest. That you are an orphan under my protection is the truth, and I will say no more. You mustn’t either.”
Oriana folded her hands inside the silky fur. “The truth, as you describe it, is all I care to reveal, so you needn’t worry I’ll confide more in anyone.”
Torn by a desire to help him as well as protect herself, she drew her lower lip through her teeth and frowned pensively. “We should also have expected someone to have heard about your fight with Duncan. I warned that we’d not heard the last of him.” She rushed on while she still possessed the courage. “Perhaps it’s because I’m not comfortable here, but thus far, I’ve been of little real value to you.”
She appeared so sincerely troubled, Egan again dropped his arm around her shoulders to offer a comforting hug. “From what you’ve told me, a man’s future is simply revealed to you, but in my case you sense only a terrible danger?”
Filled with a numbing dread, Oriana nodded. “I saw a death, and your father is dead, but the danger still surrounds you. I have tried to see more, but if there is a pathway into that vision, I can’t find it. Perhaps if I knew more of your family.”
Egan considered her request far too reasonable to refuse. “I’ll tell you all I know,” he offered amicably. He released her to hook his thumbs together and fanned his fingers.
“The Dál Cais, like any tribe, began with a single powerful man who became our first king.” He paused to wiggle his fingers playfully. “He sired both sons and daughters, who were equally fruitful, and his descendants spread out to form many clans.
“His eldest son became the next king, and that man’s eldest son followed. If you wish more detail, you’ll have to ask Albyn, for our Druids can recite every name and date, while I’m not expected to learn them. What I do know is that there has been deceit and treachery of every sort imaginable, as there is with any great family.
“That is why I sought you out. So when the day came for me to be king, although I did not expect it to come so soon, I would already know my enemies, no matter how loyal they pretended to be.” He dropped his hands to his knees. “Now, tell me what you think of Bevan.”
“Frankly, I was so frightened that he knew about Duncan, I was unable to do more than tremble.”
Appreciating that grain of truth, Egan searched her face for more. “You still don’t trust me to protect you?”
He was so near, Oriana could smell the scent of the leaves in which he’d lain. The fragrance of the forest clung to his clothes and made her long for home. “If the choice were your own life, no.”
Egan was mystified by her response. “How could it ever come to that? A king might have a dozen mistresses and no one would fault him for it. You were raised by a mother fearful of discovery, and it is understandable why you took on the same terror. That you are so elusive also preserves your power as a seer. But here, you are merely my woman, nothing more. Don’t allow your mind to create trouble that doesn’t exist.”
Oriana’s expression filled with disbelief. “As if pretending to be your mistress weren’t trouble in itself,” she reminded him.
Egan laughed as he rose and went to open the largest of his mother’s chests. “It’s such a fine day, I’ll forgive you for that unfortunate opinion. Now I want you to have fine slippers as well as lovely gowns. Help me find them so that you may try them on.”
Oriana remained where she sat. She had enjoyed wearing Adelaine’s gowns and felt no hint of disapproval from their original owner, but shoes were another matter entirely. “She must have had a fine lady’s dainty feet. I’ve walked farther than most peasants, and her slippers will never fit me.”
Egan glanced down at the scuffed toes of the slippers peeking out from beneath her gown. “You also have beautiful little feet, Oriana. Now stop being so contrary and come help me search.” He pulled out a pale linen shift edged with lace and tossed it to her. “Look at this. Don’t you need several?”
Oriana caught the soft garment and folded it across her lap. “It’s lovely, but I’ll wear it only while I’m here.”
Annoyed by her continued eagerness to depart, Egan leaned against the trunk and folded his arms across his chest. “I believe I’ll ask Albyn to recite our complete history. It will not only enable you to foretell my relatives’ futures more confidently, but the undertaking will undoubtedly require several years’ time. By then you may have finally ceased threatening to leave me.”
His expression was as dark as his taunt, but unafraid, Oriana set aside the shift to rise and face him. “It isn’t a threat, my lord. I am not your mistress, and I will leave just as soon as the danger to you is past.”
As Egan saw it, the challenge was to again make her beg to stay. He glanced toward his mother’s bed, but swiftly decided that rather than now, the coming night would present a much better opportunity to bind her to him. He waited, half expecting to be called a fool for defying the gods, but the only sound was the familiar distant roar of the sea.
He flashed a charming smile. “We will have to agree upon a mutually satisfactory date. Now come and select a few gowns, while I burrow through all these clothes to find the shoes.”
Oriana breathed deeply. Egan, with his quicksilver moods, was adept at brushing problems aside rather than facing them, and she instinctively knew the habit would not serve him well as king. She scanned the chests and pointed to a small square one.
“I believe Adelaine must have kept her shoes separate from her gowns. Why don’t you open that one?”
“Whatever you say, my lady,” Egan responded with a deep bow. He found the lid a bit difficult to raise, but with increased effort pried it open. Inside there were several pairs of soft suede slippers, some obviously never worn.
As he removed a new pair, out fell a long necklace fashioned of delicate wooden beads linked together by a fine silver chain. A small heart-shaped yellow agate was suspended from the unusual piece. He recognized it instantly and scooped it up from the floor.
“My father carved these beads for my mother when they were courting. They found the pretty stone while walking along the shore. He gave her such beautiful jewelry, but this was her favorite and the only one I recall her wearing.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped it over Oriana’s head.
“You must keep it,” he insisted. “It’s the perfect adornment for a princess from the forest.”
Oriana ran her fingers over the small barrel-shaped beads. They had been cut from slender twigs and surely it had been Adelaine’s touch which had worn the bark smooth. The pretty necklace weighed no more than a feather and would be a joy to wear.
“Thank you,” she murmured without looking up. “I’ll wear it now, but return it so that your wife may treasure it and pass it along to your first daughter.”
Egan swept her with a perplexed glance. “Are you telling my fortune, or just wishing me a good one?”
“The latter, I’m afraid,” Oriana admitted with an embarrassed laugh.
Egan had always expected to wed, but he had never set his sights on any particular lass because there were so many comely possibilities. He was stunned that the mere mention of a wife now sickened him and, annoyed by the uncomfortable sensation, he continued his perusal of the chests’ contents.
He hoped he would find other trinkets that would prompt pleasant memories. Since he had not seen the necklace in so many years, he was amazed he had recalled its story. Perhaps his father had told it often, or only once wit
h such fervor Egan had been deeply impressed by the love with which the small wooden beads had been carved.
Oriana sat down to try on Adelaine’s slippers. To her immense surprise, like the beautiful gowns, they were a perfect fit. She knew the fact they shared the same size and coloring was merely a coincidence, but in the forbidding fortress, any comfort was most welcome. If the gods had led her there to learn of Adelaine’s existence, though, she wished they would reveal why soon.
That night the great hall was ablaze with the light of a hundred torches. More than a dozen low tables had been set out for the evening meal, and Egan’s kinsmen were streaming around and through them in a careless shuffle. Their many animated conversations produced a low, rolling hum and an occasional burst of raucous laughter carried above the bard’s lively tunes and the crackling hiss of the enormous fire.
As they neared the wide doorway, Oriana felt crushed by the noise and clung even more tightly to Egan’s arm than she had the previous evening. She recognized Bevan standing with three younger men who resembled him closely, and she assumed they were his sons. She watched them part and join other groups. Indeed, the whole hall was a churning mass of visitors.
Kieran was perhaps twenty feet away and leaning close to speak with a striking young woman whose raven tresses were braided with strands of golden cord. She was clothed in a rich emerald green and stood so close to Kieran that she appeared to rub against his whole length each time she whispered a confidence.
Egan followed Oriana’s glance and explained softly, “That’s Madi. She’s a cousin to Ula and visits often. She’s adored Kieran since they were children.”
Oriana noted the width of Kieran’s grin and thought his feelings for Madi were equally plain. “He appears to return her affection,” she replied.
“Aye, he does. They may wed soon, although I’d rather not have more of Ula’s insufferable kin in residence here. But with Madi so intent upon seducing Kieran, he’s unlikely to seek a wife elsewhere.”
