Authors: Phoebe Conn
When Oriana came to, she was lying next to Egan on his bed. Albyn was seated on her husband’s right side and methodically stitching up the gash crossing his ribs. The Druid glanced toward her, but all she saw were his bloody fingers, and she promptly fainted again.
“Your bride has no stomach for blood,” Albyn commented absently.
“ ’Tis no flaw in a lass,” Egan argued, but his eyes remained closed and his words were slurred by the potent ale Albyn had forced him to consume before he had begun sewing him closed like a sack of grain. “Are you nearly finished?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Just a few more stitches.” Despite Albyn’s confident reply, his hands were shaking so badly that he was making very slow progress. He hated to cause his friend additional pain, but he did not trust his care to anyone save Oriana, and she had proven to be worthless.
Egan turned his head to the side and slurped another mouthful of ale from the cup dangling from his fingers. It should have eased the searing pain in his side, but he was still in agony.
“If you wrap me up tightly tomorrow, I might be able to stand; but it’s Kieran’s turn to choose the challenge, and where will I find the strength to fight?”
Albyn shared that same fear and had to swallow hard before he took another bloody stitch. “A challenge allows no time for a wounded man to recover, but by striking you in the left side, Kieran failed to impair your strong right arm.”
“It was no act of kindness,” Egan replied. “The sea cushioned his blow, and he missed my heart.”
“You should have let him drown.” Albyn fumbled with the needle and silently cursed his own lack of skill, though he doubted Egan would complain about the width of his scar.
“His life was never in peril,” Egan reminded him.
When Albyn conceded the point, Egan fought to distract himself from his friend’s continuous jabs by thinking only of Oriana. She had been so distant on the afternoon they had met that he had not thought any man would ever win her heart. That he had achieved that miracle stunned him, and that she lay so near was his only comfort. Still, he was plagued by the vexing doubt of the value of a seeress who could foretell the future but was nonetheless unable to warn him of danger.
He cursed himself for blaming her when he had known from the outset that the challenge might well prove deadly. He had played it her way though, merely toying with Kieran rather than killing him quickly, and that ploy had cost him dearly. He drew in a deep breath and instantly regretted the searing pain that shot clear to his toes.
As soon as Egan could draw a breath, he muttered, “Now I shall have to kill him.”
“That’s the way to think,” Albyn encouraged. “You might have intended to win without taking Kieran’s life, but he’s lost all hope of such generosity now.” Yet even as he spoke, Albyn feared Egan would be unable to raise a dagger, let alone a sword, to continue the challenge.
Albyn knew Egan would not accept defeat with a manly bow either. No, he would demand Kieran fight him although he no longer had any hope of winning.
Albyn was equally stubborn, however, and would not allow Egan to throw away his life in a doomed battle. Confident Oriana would be a willing ally in protecting her husband’s life, he vowed they would succeed in the effort.
The three of them might leave the fortress of the Dál Cais with no more than their lives, but that was a treasure beyond measure. Oriana had stirred, and until he had finally closed Egan’s wound, he hoped she would not open her beautiful golden eyes and faint for the third time in a single day.
Oriana lay snuggled against Egan’s side, and after awaking with a start, she was relieved to find him sleeping peacefully. A fur rested low on his hips and the line of Albyn’s uneven stitches danced down his left side like the tracks of some frantic bird.
Avoiding that gruesome sight, she stared at the flatness of her husband’s belly and followed the gentle curves of his hip bones. He had such a handsome body, and all of it so exquisitely male. She loved him so desperately, she did not care how many scars he carried.
“Don’t touch him,” Albyn cautioned from his place by the hearth.
Badly startled by Albyn’s command, Oriana sat up so quickly that she nearly rolled off the side of the bed. She had meant only to kiss Egan’s cheek, not throw herself upon him, but she had not realized they were not alone. Badly embarrassed, she rose with as much dignity as she could muster, then hesitated briefly to make certain she had not disturbed Egan’s rest.
“You should have announced yourself earlier,” she whispered.
“I hadn’t noticed you were awake,” Albyn replied. “Are you feeling better?” He was seated in the chair and appeared more exhausted than relaxed.
“No, I’m sick clear through. I don’t understand any of you.”
There was no fire burning, but Albyn found it easier to contemplate the heap of ashes on the hearth than meet her smoldering gaze. “Yes, you made that abundantly clear. Fortunately, Egan was too far away to hear you condemn the whole of the Dál Cais, but no one who heard found it endearing.”
Unconcerned by the opinions of the loathsome crowd, Oriana’s expression remained contemptuous. “You sided with Garrick and Neal. Did you explain that to Egan while you tended him?”
Albyn enjoyed the honeyed tones of her voice so greatly, he strove to forgive her caustic words. “There was no need to explain. He saw Kieran reach the rocks first.”
“Yes, but only by turning Egan’s own compassion against him, and you Druids rewarded Kieran for doing so. Have you no sense of honor?” Oriana accused.
“We could debate that question for days, but in the case of a challenge, your question is misplaced. A victory is still considered a victory regardless of how it’s achieved.”
Drawing comfort from her husband’s presence, Oriana remained close to his bed. “So the fact Egan won yesterday in a straightforward manner counts for no more than Kieran’s shameful win today?”
“Unfortunately, no. The challenge stands at a tie and will continue on the morrow when Kieran will choose the manner of contest. Now I have an important question for you. How could you have failed to warn Egan of the real danger Kieran posed?”
His words were closely clipped, and sharing his barely controlled rage, Oriana did not take offense. “Had I received a warning, I would have conveyed it immediately, but sadly, I was as surprised and horrified as Egan must have been by Kieran’s vicious ruse.”
Albyn remained skeptical. “Yet you’re widely admired for your visions of the future.”
The comment was a taunt rather than a compliment,
but again, Oriana appreciated his dark mood and held her temper in check. “My own fate is hidden from me, as is Egan’s, and those close to him. I can only glimpse your future, not describe it in detail.”
Startled by that revelation, Albyn was instantly on his feet. “Tell me what it is you see.”
With the wide bed at her back, Oriana had no avenue of retreat. He was making her horribly uncomfortable. “Now which of us is rudely issuing commands?” she asked.
Albyn pointed toward Egan. “Do not trifle with me while the best friend I can ever hope to have lies so badly wounded. It’s a gift from the gods that Kieran failed to gut him, and with fish nibbling his entrails, Egan would never have emerged from the sea alive. It’s all I can do not to take up his sword and go after Kieran myself.”
He had removed the robe that disguised his muscular build, and after providing such a sickening description of what Egan might have suffered, Oriana readily believed he possessed not merely the righteous anger, but the size and strength to kill Kieran with a single mighty blow. She also knew he had sufficient control of his desires to allow Egan to act first.
Badly in need of refuge, she sat down beside her husband and slipped her hand into his. He had such capable hands, and she hoped he would not awaken too weak to defend himself. She had seen the blood seeping through his fingers, and feared he had lost more than his body could swiftly replenish.
“It’s difficult for me to think of anything other than Egan either,” she began, “but for your sake I’ll try.”
She looked away for a long moment, and then spoke with her customary confidence. “There are many paths leading to the same destination, Albyn. Rather than regret your years with the Druids, please view them as a valuable step along your way. While I wish there were more to reveal, you must believe in your future.’ Tis an enviable one.”
Albyn wasn’t impressed by her encouraging, maddeningly vague promises. “If I leave the Druids, where should I go?”
“You’ll hear the call when it comes,” she assured him.
Baffled, Albyn raked his hands through his sun-streaked hair. “I thought I’d been called to the Druids.”
Oriana again attempted to ease his anguish. “You were, but you’ve learned all they have to teach you, and you must continue your journey on your own.”
“I have always been alone,” Albyn complained bitterly.
“That’s not true. All along you’ve had friends who’ve loved you and eased your way.”
“Perhaps,” Albyn conceded, “but their kindness scarcely eases the ache in my soul.” He hesitated briefly, then asked what he truly wished to know: “Can you teach me how to divine the future? Whatever it is you do, will you explain it, or show me the steps? You have my word I’ll not pass along your secrets. This is something I want for myself alone, not for all Druids.”
Oriana did not doubt his sincerity, but she could not comply. “It isn’t something I learned or can teach,” she explained. “It is, just as you described Egan’s survival, a gift from the gods. When someone comes seeking their fortune, I hear a voice not unlike that of a friend whispering secrets, and it tells me all I wish to know. It wasn’t until I met Egan, however, that I encountered anyone whose path lay hidden from me. It took me a while to understand why.”
While disheartened, Albyn refused to abandon the subject. “Would you teach me if your gift could be taught?”
Oriana thought his question ridiculous, but he was a loyal friend and deserved a sympathetic response. “Because it can be more of a curse than a blessing, I’d have to consider the question and more carefully weigh the advantages and disadvantages.”
Completely dissatisfied with her evasive reply, Albyn returned to the chair. Oriana had such a persuasive
manner, he feared she could convince him of anything, but he could not help but wonder if the voice she heard did not exist solely in her head.
Oriana was saddened by his dejected slump. “Unlike a bard, I never create fanciful tales to entertain,” she advised softly. “I can only repeat what is told to me.”
“Does anyone else ever hear your magical voice speak?” he asked.
“No,” Oriana answered, and then quickly caught herself. “I shouldn’t say that. On a couple of occasions, Egan complained of hearing a voice. He wasn’t at all pleased. You might not be either.”
Merely confused now, Albyn lost all hope of gaining any meaningful insights from Oriana and feared she was as great a fraud as the Druids who claimed to read the future in the entrails of the animals they sacrificed to the gods. His deepest fear was that there was no future to foretell, only a miserable present to be endured.
“What did the voice tell you about Kieran?” he asked.
Guilt-ridden that her vision of Kieran’s promise might have cost Egan his crown, Oriana refused to explain that rather than coming from the
knowing
, she had listened to her own heart. “My only concern is for Egan. I’ll tend him now. Please leave us.”
“No. Should he wish to stand, if only to visit the privy to relieve himself, you’d not be able to hold him.”
Oriana knew that was certainly true. “Where is your chamber? Should Egan require your assistance, I’ll summon you.”
“My chamber is at the end of this corridor, but I’ve no wish to sit there and wait like some prisoner confined to a cell. I’ll remain here until Egan sends me away.”
“You are as stubborn as Egan,” Oriana whispered under her breath.
“Aye, that I am. Perhaps even more.”
Caring little for Albyn’s warning, Oriana rested her hand against Egan’s forehead. Even that slight touch created a thrill that warmed her whole body, but she dared
not fondle him and risk disturbing his rest when he needed it so badly to heal.
“He’s not feverish, but what if he’s unable to leave his bed on the morrow?” she asked.
Although not completely resigned to that sad but likely outcome, Albyn drew in a deep breath and sighed. “Then the challenge will be over, and Kieran will be king. But you don’t know your husband if you believe he’ll give into pain when not merely his own, but also the whole future of the Dál Cais is at stake.”
Thinking the situation truly desperate, Oriana wished the
knowing
would offer some sign of encouragement, but she heard only silence and felt as utterly abandoned as she believed Albyn must. “Let’s assume that Egan is able to face Kieran in the courtyard. When honor has no place in a challenge, will anyone object should I stab Kieran in the back?”
Albyn swore under his breath. “Weren’t you the one who begged Egan to let his half brother live?”
At the time, she had been so certain that was the right course, but now she felt sick with regret. “Since it now appears to have been a grave error, please do not remind me. However, I needn’t slay Kieran to leave him too weak to fight.”
Albyn had not thought to liken Oriana to a she-wolf, but now that she had shown herself willing to defend Egan with more than mere words, the comparison appeared apt. “I don’t doubt your courage, Oriana, but we must think of something far less desperate to safeguard your husband’s life.”
Oriana did not even know where to begin, but she was far too concerned about Egan to continue arguing with his friend. “How did you manage to get us both here to his chamber?” she asked instead.
“I didn’t,” Albyn confessed with a shrug. “I carried you. Yowan and a handful of others rescued Egan from the rocks and brought him here.”
At first, Oriana wondered why he had not passed her
along to another man when she had fainted and gone after Egan himself, but in the instant before Albyn glanced away, the hunger in his gaze provided the answer. He could not leave either of them it seemed, and his distracted company merely fed her apprehension.