Dawn Of Desire

by Phoebe Conn

  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.

  Awash in disgust, Albyn remained silent for a long moment. He was alone with Oriana, even if Egan was asleep in the same room, and he had simply squandered the opportunity to savor her company. Clearly only one subject occupied her mind, so he seized it.

  “The knife wound is long, but not deep,” he said. “It was a reckless move on Kieran’s part, but thankfully, with the turbulence of the sea, it’s nearly impossible to stab a man with any accuracy underwater.”

  Grateful for the gods’ intervention, or for whatever force had saved her husband’s life, Oriana nodded thoughtfully. “Rather than count on Egan’s luck to hold, we must plan for the morrow. You know Kieran better than I ever will. How can we turn that reckless streak of his against him?”

  Albyn had hoped they might devise a plan to save Egan, but her question inspired an entirely new line of thought. In an instant, he recalled the most reckless challenge in all of Dál Cais history, and his spirits soared. “When Egan wakes, we’ll feed him meat to restore his strength. It won’t matter if he’s barely able to stand; if he looks strong, Kieran will believe it.”

  Albyn’s sudden excitement left Oriana puzzled. “I’m sure you’re right, but how will the mere appearance of strength help Egan win the next contest?”

  Albyn rose and began to pace. “The Dál Cais are an ancient tribe and some of our early traditions have been lost in the mists of memory. There is one, however, that lingers.”

  Oriana felt a strange tingling along her scalp, and quickly ran her fingers through the curls at her nape. “You’re frightening me.”

  “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to, but at one time, the Dál Cais possessed the secret of flight.”

  “The tapestries!” Oriana exclaimed. “I thought they depicted winged men, and then I discounted it.”

  “No, the tapestries in the great hall do indeed show winged men. It was begun with a dare. Then, after many disasters, it was discovered that with a single giant wing, rather than a bird’s pair, a man could fly. Or at least he could hang on and glide like a falcon on the wind. It was an exciting time.”

  Albyn’s whole mood had changed to one of near breathless elation, but all Oriana felt was an eerie sense of foreboding. “If the Dál Cais once had such a magnificent pastime, why did they cease to pursue it?”

  Albyn halted in front of her. While he hated to confide it, she deserved the truth. “It was used in a challenge for the crown. Both young men leapt from Mount Royal, but rather than allow them to glide as was expected, the wind suddenly grew violent and dashed them upon the rocks. Their deaths left the Dál Cais with a child for a king, but he was a clever lad who ended the risk to his warriors by forbidding flight and burning every wing. No one has dared to build one since.”

  Oriana’s throat tightened as she considered what Albyn had suggested. “A chance to fly would appeal to a reckless man like Kieran though, wouldn’t it?”

  “Aye, I believe that it would, and because there’s no one alive who’s ever built a wing, it might take considerable time to accomplish.”

  “Time in which Egan would recover his health,” Oriana added.

  “Aye, that it would, but I’ll need your help to bring this about,” Albyn urged.

  Oriana looked down at Egan. His features were relaxed, as though his dreams were sweet. “No. What you’ll actually need is for Kieran to imagine that he’s thought of flying on his own. Use Yowan, any others you trust, to start the rumor that Kieran lacks the courage to even suggest a flight, and it should quickly reach Kieran’s ears.”

  Albyn had sought her help, but he had failed to anticipate how brilliant her strategy would be. “Aye, Kieran is so easily insulted, he’ll take the bait before he realizes it conceals a deadly hook.”

  “Do not gloat,” Oriana warned. “Even if the plan works, we’ll still have the challenge of building the better wing.” She liked having both feet planted firmly on the ground, and she could not help but shudder.

  Albyn nodded. “You are a most worthy queen, my lady. Now I must take my leave to put our plan in motion, but I’ll return as quickly as I can with a fine meal for Egan.”

  O
riana waited until he had reached the door. “Tell the cooks that Egan is ravenously hungry.”

  Albyn offered an agreeable grin, but he did not reveal he would also add that Egan was too lost in his bride to leave his chamber. That much he knew would be readily believed, and feeling more optimistic than he had in days, he left Egan’s chamber and ran for the stairs.

  Egan had forced his breathing into a deep, easy rhythm, but the pain in his side made anything more than carefully imposed rest impossible. He felt Oriana move off the bed but lacked the strength to open his eyes and beg for her return.

  The ale had muddled his thoughts, but he recognized the accusing tone in his once demure bride’s voice and feared she was arguing with Albyn, who in turn defended himself admirably. The subject eluded him, but their voices proved oddly soothing, and at last he fell asleep.

  It was the smell of roast venison that awakened him, but rather than inspire hunger, it made him gag. “Get that away from me, or I’ll retch and rip out every damned stitch.”

  Albyn carried the plate only as far as the hearth, where he had set a fire to keep Egan warm. “You have to eat,” he advised.

  Egan turned his head to search for Oriana and found her gazing out the narrow windows. There were wet trails down her cheeks and although she hastened to wipe them away, it was plain she had been crying. “Don’t waste your tears while I’m alive,” he scolded.

  “I’ll weep whenever I please,” Oriana responded. Then she noted more than disapproval in his glance, and feared he blamed her for the wound that could have cost him his life. “If you wish me to leave you, I’ll go now and never tell a soul we were wed.”

  Astonished by her offer, Albyn turned his back and hoped they would both forget he was present. She had promised he would hear a call, and for an instant he prayed Egan would send her away, for he would gladly follow. Then he remembered how greatly his friend needed him, and although he would be badly torn, should Oriana leave, he would have to remain. Certain life would continue to provide such anguishing dilemmas, he hoped Egan would demand that she stay.

  “I’ll not argue the point while I can’t leave my bed,” Egan countered, “but you’re to move to my mother’s chamber.”

  Oriana’s knees felt weak, and she had to lean against the cool stone wall for support. He was going to send her away, and she knew precisely why. “I’d have warned you if I could,” she swore, so frightened she barely recognized her own voice.

  “I know. Can you find my mother’s chamber? If not, Albyn will escort you.”

  Clearly he wanted her out of his sight, and his cool rejection ripped her heart in two. He had sought her out for her visions, then claimed he loved only her. He had just proven otherwise, and she had never even imagined he could inflict such incredible pain. Only this time, it was not an injury Albyn could mend with a needle and thread.

  “I’ll find my own way,” she announced with her last shred of dignity, and moved on shaky legs toward the door. “Just as I always have.”

  Albyn admired her composure but barely managed to hold on to his own until the door had closed behind her. “What have you done?” he shouted. “I’ve never known you to be mean, but to blame Oriana for Kieran’s treachery is simply cruel.”

  Too weak to argue, Egan cursed under his breath. “I’ll not have her here while I’m as helpless as a babe.”

  “Oh, it’s only your pride, is it?” Albyn exclaimed with raised hands. He then refilled Egan’s cup with ale, bent to pick up the platter heaped with venison, and carried them both to the bed. “I don’t care if you get sick or not. Start eating so that you can get up off that bed and go apologize to your wife.

  “She thought of a clever way to salvage a victory in the challenge, but I’ll not reveal what it is. What I will tell you, though, is that if you’re so stupid as to send Oriana away, she won’t go alone. You may be a great fool, but I’m not, and Oriana is worth more than any kingdom.”

  Oriana had gone quietly, but Albyn grabbed up his cloak and slammed the door on his way out. His warning rang against the stone walls, and it was not the first time Egan had been called a fool where Oriana was concerned. But if he had trusted his own instincts rather than hers, he would not have been hurt, and he would not have had to send her away.

  Until he could devise a way to keep a prophetess for a wife without heeding any more of her prophecies, he believed he was better off alone. “I know. You needn’t say it,” he begged the voice that spoke only in his head. “Without Oriana, I’ll be a fool no matter what I do.”

  With that thought clearly in mind, he grabbed a hunk of venison and began to eat. As expected, his stomach lurched, but he kept right on eating because he intended to face Kieran tomorrow, and on his own terms. He just hoped he would not collapse in the dirt.

  Albyn rapped lightly on Adelaine’s door, but Oriana took longer than he had anticipated to respond. Her eyes were dry, but her expression reflected her deep despair. Rather than invite him to enter as he had hoped, she remained in the doorway.

  Always cautious, Albyn hid his disappointment and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Egan has never been so badly wounded, and he’s not himself. You mustn’t judge him too harshly.”

  “He’s not the one being judged,” Oriana reminded him. She could not help but wonder whether his encouragement was sincere or merely a plausible excuse to see her. Whatever his reason, she took no comfort from his plea.

  “You should be with Egan,” she urged. “Somehow you must inspire him to eat.”

  Albyn rested an outstretched arm against the arched doorway. “For the time being, I’m going to ignore him. I left food and drink within easy reach, and he’ll just have to take care of himself.” He watched concern fill her gaze and could not help but wish it were for him rather than Egan. “You needn’t worry. I’ll look in on him before I go to sleep.”

  “You mustn’t abandon him,” Oriana cautioned. “Wait a while if you must, but visit him before nightfall and sleep in his chamber tonight. He’ll suffer too greatly alone if you don’t.”

  “If it will please you,” Albyn replied with a mere flash of a charming grin. “I told him you’d thought of a plan.”

  Oriana shook her head dejectedly. “Now he won’t trust it.”

  “Wait,” Albyn implored. “I didn’t reveal what it was, and I don’t intend to. That way, when Kieran offers a flight as the next test in the challenge, Egan’s surprise will be genuine. I’ll advise him to accept, and he’ll quickly understand why it’s to his advantage.”

  When everything had gone so tragically wrong that day, Oriana found it difficult to cling to her earlier optimism. “I know you’ll do your best.”

  Albyn wanted to circulate in the great hall to spread the rumor she had inspired, but he hated to leave her so dejected and alone. “You left with nothing in your hand. What may I bring you from Egan’s chamber?”

  “Thank you, but I’ve been wearing Adelaine’s clothes and everything I need is already here.” Except Egan, she did not add.

  “You’ll need food at least.”

  “I’ve no more appetite than Egan,” Oriana replied. “Besides, you can’t bring food here and destroy the illusion of Egan’s health and happiness.”

  “Unlike the homes of some great men, here there are no servants standing idly about awaiting a summons. So no one will see where I take a platter of food. You must eat too, Oriana, because I’m counting on your help to walk Egan down the stairs in the morning.”

  “Going down will not be half the challenge of coming back up,” Oriana responded.

  Albyn noted the determined angle of her chin, and took it as a good sign. “Tomorrow everything we do will be an illusion, but Egan will be in too much pain to notice, and Kieran is too full of himself to see through it.”

  That she was plotting with a Druid was a happenstance Oriana could never have foreseen, but then, nothing had been as she had expected it since the hour Egan had entered her tent. Her former life
seemed so far removed from her now, while the future was as dim as the mists hanging over Mount Royal.

  “I’ll follow your lead,” she promised, but once Albyn had left, she leaned back against the door and wondered how she would survive the night, let alone tomorrow.

  Chapter Sixteen

  That same afternoon, Kieran succumbed to the flirtatious wiles of a charming widow. With Madi shunning him, he was more than willing to be seduced. Fiona had never made any secret of her passionate nature, and it was widely believed to have hastened her husband’s demise. Kieran, however, felt invincible that day and harbored no fear that bedding her would shorten his life.

  Fiona was tall, curvaceous, and so fair that her flowing tresses shimmered with an ivory gleam. She was as lusty a lover as any man could ever hope to find, but best of all, she bore absolutely no resemblance to Madi. Kieran had not wasted a moment in conversation, but had immediately sought to satisfy their mutual cravings.

  It was a diverting game, but eventually Fiona became sated and fell asleep. Kieran, however, quickly shook off the remnants of their bliss and left her bed. Fiona was a pretty thing. Not that he would have wed her, for a king has to have heirs, and since her appetite for men had brought her no babes, clearly she was barren.

  He left without waking her and whistled a favorite tune as he moved with a careless swagger to his own chamber. He was eager to make ready for the night’s merriment and quickly rinsed away Fiona’s cloying perfume and dressed with meticulous care.

  His cousins welcomed him into the great hall with loud whoops and cheers, but his mood remained restrained until it became obvious Egan was too severely injured to appear. He had concealed only a slender blade in his waistband and had feared it might prove too small to be effective.

  Luck had been with him, however. If his good fortune held, that desperate swim would be the end of the challenge. His chest swelled with pride as he silently proclaimed himself the new ruler of the Dál Cais.