by Phoebe Conn
No cheering came from the ledge, but rather a hushed stillness broken only by a restless man kicking pebbles off the path. Most of the men were related to Kieran. Their own fortunes were closely tied to his, and they had just seen his chance to become king blown away in the wind.
Kieran grew increasingly angry as he watched the crowd swirl around Egan as though the coronation celebration had already begun. He had hoped his brother would crash on the rocks, or failing that calamity, produce no more than an awkward flight that would end with him too badly injured to survive. Instead, Egan had flown as though he had been born with a magnificent pair of wings.
His companions were equally astonished at Egan’s stunning success, and the bravest among them shuffled to Kieran’s side. “I thought we’d built a fine wing, but ours is no match for Egan’s. No one will call you a coward if you end the challenge now and walk down the mountain.”
Kieran had done his best to kill Egan in the sea, and he was too furiously angry to hand him the crown. “Our wing is of the same design,” he spit out through clenched teeth, “and I intend to use it.”
His friends exchanged horrified glances, for none wished to see him killed. “There was a rumor,” one interjected slyly, “that if Egan won today, the challenge would shift to his bride. Let him win this. He’ll still not rule.”
Ula had hinted that Egan would be doomed by his arrogant choices if not a disastrous flight. She and Garrick were constantly conspiring against someone who had done them a real, or even an imagined, insult. It was a game to them; but could they actually turn the whole tribe against Egan because he had chosen an outsider as his wife?
He raised a hand in a plea for silence while he considered the matter. He had known his kin to be a fickle lot, and on more than one occasion they had cheered a noble one day and turned on him the next. It was possible that despite Egan’s triumph, he would be despised by nightfall, but Kieran still had to prove he was the better man.
“If I walk down the mountain,” he explained, “I’ll always be the man who refused to fly. Which of you wishes to be known for what he’s failed to do? Come, help me don the wing.”
Once Kieran had secured the harness, he stood poised on the ledge and waited to draw sufficient attention to make the leap worthwhile. He had observed Egan’s flight closely, and though he believed the immense wing had accounted for the brilliance of his success, his brother had also been remarkably adept in handling it. Now all he had to do was follow his stunning example.
Egan held Oriana in an easy embrace, but he was prepared to swiftly shield her eyes should Kieran splatter himself against the rocks. “If he had any sense, he’d walk down the mountain,” he whispered against her curls.
“I imagine he’d rather die,” Oriana responded, but she was unable to suppress a chill of dread. She searched the sky for the hawk, but he had again disappeared, and when Kieran jumped from the ledge, he would be entirely alone. She had urged Egan to spare his brother’s life, but when Kieran chose to throw it away, she felt powerless to intervene.
“He’s waiting until he’s captured every eye,” Albyn observed with a weary sigh.
“There he goes,” Egan shouted, but his words were lost in the approving roar rumbling across the valley.
Kieran had lunged into the wind, but rather than fly, he felt himself falling. He stretched to send his wing out over the jagged rocks below, but the wind screamed like a banshee in his ears. He thrust his head up to tilt the wing and caught what wind he could, but it was barely enough to carry him beyond the treacherous base of Mount Royal.
He then fought to lean back and swung his legs forward as birds met the land, but a sudden gust of wind from the side knocked him off balance. The right tip of his wing struck the ground and dug a long furrow, then caught on a rock and spun him around before it came to rest. He choked on the dust, but shed his harness unharmed. Elated, he leaped into the air to wave his arms and cheer.
Egan laughed at the sorry spectacle, but he was more than merely amused. “Kieran has courage if little sense, but clearly I’ve won the day.”
“That you have,” Albyn agreed. “Make him come to you.”
With one last lingering kiss, Oriana left Egan’s embrace, but she remained at his side and took a firm grip on his arm. His kinsmen jostled against one another as they pressed forward, but Albyn still sat his horse behind them to protect them and the wing.
Druids in the crowd opened a path for Kieran, followed by Garrick, Ula, Skell, and Madi, who had all left their mounts to approach on foot. Despite Kieran’s clear loss, none appeared to have fallen into despair.
Egan waited until Kieran was close enough to reach out and touch before he silenced the crowd and greeted him. “There should be no argument today as to who won this contest, but I don’t trust you not to raise one.”
Still excited by his flight, Kieran refused to be humbled. “If I’d had your wing, and you mine, then I’d have had the better flight.”
Egan considered his brother’s complaint absurd. “But instead, we each had our own, and I won decisively. The challenge ends here, and now the preparations should begin for the coronation ceremony. You’ll see to them, Garrick.”
“It will be an honor, my lord,” Garrick responded with a respectful bow, but as he straightened, he resumed his supremely confident manner. “But first,” he added as an apparent afterthought, “I have been asked to pose a question.”
Egan immediately sensed a trick, and braced himself accordingly. “Ask whatever you please, and I’ll provide an honest answer.”
Also alarmed, Oriana slid a trembling hand down Egan’s forearm to lace her fingers in his, and though he responded with an encouraging squeeze, she remained terrified Garrick might harm him. She glanced over her shoulder at Albyn, and when his eyes shone with a menacing light, she knew he expected trouble as well.
Garrick slipped his hands into his sleeves and spoke in such an intimate tone, the crowd had to strain to hear. “You call this woman your wife, but when you become king of the Dál Cais, you must set her aside and wed one of our own.”
Oriana had always known Garrick was dangerous, but now he refused to turn his evil glance her way. He had to know her name, but he had deliberately chosen not to use it. There was no need to rely on the knowing to predict the hostility of Egan’s response.
With but a slight nudge from Skell, Madi stepped forward with a seductive sway. Her tongue darted over her lips in a provocative sweep, and she smiled up at Egan through her dark lashes. “I would be proud to be your queen, Egan, and unlike certain pretty strangers, my heritage is well-known. The men of my clan are fierce warriors and will serve you well in battle. This woman can do no more than bind your wounds.”
Feeling horribly betrayed, Kieran released a strangled moan, and Egan swiftly added a second protest of his own. “You’ve not only insulted my wife, but my brother as well. You’re no longer welcome here. Take your daughter home, Skell, and do not return to the fortress until you’re summoned.”
Clearly that was not the gracious response Madi had been led to expect. Frightened that Egan might emphasize his displeasure with a fierce backhanded slap, she looked toward Kieran, but he spit on the ground and turned his back on her. Then, fearful of drawing laughter from the restive crowd, she hurried to hide behind her father, who appeared to be no more pleased than she.
Garrick dipped his head as though Madi’s bold offer had been a painful embarrassment for them all. He appeared to ponder the matter and then swept Oriana with a dismissive glance.
“There will be no objection to your keeping this woman for your amusement, my lord, but our queen must be a noblewoman who is above reproach.”
Egan widened his stance. “Must I also warn you not to insult my wife? If that was your question, consider it answered. Oriana will be my queen.”
Oriana was too terrified to speak, but she thought Garrick extremely clever for referring to the king’s wife as “our queen,” as though she would
belong to the entire Dál Cais. All that mattered to Egan was that his choice of wife be honored. It was no subtle difference of opinion either, but a major conflict she had warned him to expect.
Both men had stated their case clearly, but rude taunts continued to circulate through the crowd. The sun lent the elegantly clad nobles’ gold cloak pins and torques a fiery sheen, but there were plainly dressed farmers present as well. It swiftly became apparent to Oriana that with his spectacular flight Egan had won the support of the majority in both groups, but the selection of a queen remained a matter of fierce contention.
Oriana believed Egan had defended her courageously, and he would continue to do so, but without wealthy kinsmen to vouch for her character and provide warriors to defend the Dál Cais, she had no hope of winning any influential allies.
“Must we discuss this here?” she whispered anxiously.
“Aye, we must,” Egan assured her, his expression grim. Rather than a warm clasp, he pressed her hand in an urgent demand for silence. “I don’t wish to begin my reign with bloodshed,” he warned in a voice loud enough to carry to the outer fringes of the gathering, “but if I must fight for Oriana, then I’ll fetch my sword and begin with the first misguided fool who dares to oppose me.”
With breathless gasps, the crowd fell back to escape Egan’s wrath, but with a majestic confidence, Garrick stood his ground. While he raised his voice so all would hear, he belittled Oriana with a careless gesture. “This woman has insulted your father’s widow. This woman has insulted the Druids by questioning our judgment when we named Kieran the winner in the swim.”
Warming to his subject, Garrick paused to appreciate the crowd’s approving murmurs. “Indeed, this woman has insulted us all by claiming a white mare selected for sacrifice. This woman has neither clan nor past, so how can you value her more highly than your kinsmen of the Dál Cais?”
Although Egan could well imagine, he had no idea what Oriana had actually said after the swim. But before he could respond that Ula was a bitch who deserved no respect, and that he had been the one to claim the white mare, a hoarse shout drew everyone’s attention.
“Give them a night on Mount Royal!”
Garrick strained to listen, as though the suggestion had taken him by surprise. When it was repeated from another direction, and quickly taken up in a lively chorus, he broke into a satisfied grin.
“Do you hear our people, my lord? They’re calling for a night on Mount Royal to provide a true test of your bride’s worth. Follow the example of our first king, and with your woman, build a proper shelter on the mountain. At sunrise tomorrow, if you have succeeded, the matter will have been decided in your favor.”
The Druid raised his hands to promote an enthusiastic response from the crowd. “Is it agreed?”
A hush at last fell over the crowd as they awaited Egan’s reply, but several whispered taunts still reached Oriana’s ears with painful clarity. She winced as one man resorted to a malicious curse. She had been so happy when Egan had brought his wing down safely, and she wished they had been allowed to celebrate.
Certain what the Dál Cais valued most was strength, she raised her chin proudly. She was determined not to dishonor Egan, but she hoped he would find a way for them to confer before they had to climb Mount Royal, or take on any other ancient challenge. She had enormous faith in him, but when his people had such little respect for her, she would not be so foolish as to believe they would ever accept her as their queen.
Egan had already had a strenuous morning, and the prospect of taking on yet another challenge infuriated him clear to the marrow. He caught sight of Yowan and his sons and gestured for them to come for the wing. It provided only a brief interruption, but he considered his options carefully as they picked it up to carry back to the fortress.
“Aren’t you all hungry?” Egan then called to the crowd. “I am. Let’s eat before we make our plans.”
Garrick opened his mouth to object, but the mention of food had been too enticing, and all around him men were turning to escort their women toward the fortress. Garrick was forced to join them and led Ula back to their horses, while Skell dropped his arm around Madi’s shoulders and followed close behind.
Kieran, however, hung back and remained with Egan. He may have used treachery to win on his own, but he had not regarded his mother’s veiled promises as fact. Thoroughly disgusted by her interference, he swore easily. “I knew nothing of this. You won today’s challenge and are Cadell’s rightful heir. If Garrick will force you to fight for your woman, what will he seize upon next? No one chose him as our king.”
He glanced up at Albyn and finally noted his Druid’s cloak. “Go tell Garrick I said so. He can’t hurt me now that I’ve lost the challenge.”
“I won’t carry threats to Garrick,” Albyn countered. “Tell him yourself.”
Kieran sneered as he looked off toward the fortress, then back at his wing, which lay forgotten where he had landed. “I will tell him, but first I’m going to burn my wing.”
“You proved your courage,” Egan replied. “If you wish to fly again, copy the dimensions of my wing.”
Kieran was relieved there would be no argument on that score and began to back away. “Do you hope to fly another day?” he inquired.
“Ask me again when I’m king,” Egan responded, but he doubted it. This was perhaps the most agreeable conversation they had ever had, and he feared it had come too late.
Oriana watched Kieran walk away, but suddenly the morning had grown too bright, as though a flash of lightning had remained in the sky. No matter which way she glanced, the images were so sharp they hurt her eyes. It was a frightening sensation, and not unlike the alarming stillness that had heralded Egan’s arrival at the village fair.
That afternoon, her life had been forever changed, and tonight it would change again. She heard Egan laugh, still caught up in the heady excitement of his flight, but she feared nothing good could come for either of them that night.
Chapter Twenty-two
Albyn leaped from the dapple gray’s back and thrust the reins into Egan’s hands. “Take my horse and ride to the fortress with Oriana.”
While Egan hated to admit to a weakness of any kind, the burst of energy he had gained from his thrilling flight was rapidly waning, and he was forced to accept Albyn’s gracious offer. He set a brisk pace on the short trek and responded to his kin’s cheers with a jaunty wave. As soon as they had left their mounts at the stable, he took Oriana’s hand and, skirting the talkative crowd milling about the bailey, led her into the fortress and upstairs to his chamber.
He swung his door closed with a grateful sigh, took two long steps, and stretched out across his bed. “Give me a moment to rest,” he breathed out through a wide yawn and promptly fell asleep.
Too anxious to join him in a nap, Oriana looked down at her lovely amethyst gown and soft slippers and decided they were completely inappropriate for a trek up a mountain. While she would have to wear Adelaine’s cloak, the drab garments she had set aside for travel would be the perfect attire. She retrieved her own worn slippers, which she had left in her travel bag, and quickly assembled what she wished to wear.
She had just pulled one of the grayish brown gowns and tunics over her head when Albyn knocked at the door. She stepped out into the corridor and untangled her curls with her fingers.
“How much time do we have before we must leave for Mount Royal?” she inquired fretfully. “I’d rather not wake Egan until I must.”
Albyn was surprised Egan had chosen to sleep, but he had certainly earned it that day. “While he may need to rest, the sooner you leave, the better prepared you’ll be for the coming night.”
“My mother and I often built our own shelters out of stones or sturdy branches. If that’s all that’s expected, then Egan and I could wait until the afternoon and still complete the task before sunset.”
Albyn stepped back to rest his shoulder against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. �
��Where did you build these undoubtedly charming structures?”
In truth, they had been little more than rude huts, but Oriana saw no reason to describe them as such. “In the forest. Why?”
Albyn nodded thoughtfully. “It has to be a great deal easier to build a shelter on the level ground in the forest than on a rocky mountainside.”
“Aye, that must be true, but still it can’t be impossible or the king and queen Garrick mentioned would not have accomplished the feat.”
Her glance was so innocently trusting that Albyn hated to disillusion her. “There are some who swear the tale is no more than fanciful legend.”
“Well, even if it is, other than to disavow our marriage, there didn’t appear to be any way for Egan to refuse Garrick’s demand. Perhaps I don’t fully appreciate what we must do. Please tell me the legend so I’ll at least know as much as your kin.”
Uncertain where to begin, Albyn frowned pensively. “Quill could sing the tale with clever rhymes, but unfortunately, I’ve lacked the time to develop a bard’s talent for verse.”
He paused a moment to recall the details and then related them in an inviting whisper. “When our first king was a young man, he wed a remarkably pretty lass, and the happy pair set out to find fertile land for their home. In the course of their journey, they came to Mount Royal and climbed it to view the countryside. Before they could make their way down, dark clouds filled the sky, and they were pelted with freezing rain. Then a fierce wind began to blow off the sea, and they were trapped on the narrow trail for the night.”
Oriana’s close attention inspired Albyn to embellish his tale. “Now, the young woman who became our first queen is always described as a farmer’s daughter, who was not only lovely and fair, but quite strong. While our king used his ax to fell several trees, she gathered stones, and together they built a house that was remarkably sturdy. Despite the biting cold of the wind and rain, they passed a safe night in each other’s arms.
“It was such a splendid house, it is told, that the pair could not bear to leave it and so remained here in the valley. As they prospered, this fortress gradually grew up against the mountain. The wood of the original house rotted away, and the stones became part of our walls, but it is still remembered as a magnificent dwelling.”
