Dawn Of Desire

by Phoebe Conn

  Garrick had spent the afternoon nurturing support for Kieran, and he had been gratified by the response he had received until a ridiculous rumor reached his ears. He had been astonished, but with several young men gazing up at the tapestries, he could smell the threat in the air.

  He waited impatiently for Kieran to leave Bevan’s sons, and then strode to his side. “Where have you been?” he scolded under his breath, and turned away to smile confidently at those standing nearby.

  Kieran took a long sip of wine before he replied, and a mischievous light brightened his dark eyes. “It was a strenuous morning. I needed a rest.”

  “You weren’t in your chamber,” Garrick observed pointedly.

  “The fortress has many beds, and I found another,” Kieran said with an amused chuckle. “Have you tasted the wine? Tonight’s seems especially sweet.”

  Garrick grabbed Kieran’s wrist before he could down another drop. “Stay sober. You’ve not yet won the challenge, and it’s much too soon to celebrate.”

  Kieran stiffened, and responded with such an icy glare, Garrick promptly dropped his hand. Still insulted, the young man chose his words with care. “Egan isn’t here, and I doubt he’ll be able to leave his bed on the morrow. If I want to celebrate that promising fact, I’ll do so with as much wine as I please.”

  “The cellar does not hold enough wine to please you,” Garrick was quick to argue. “But while you’re still sober, we must make our plans. If we can count on Egan to do anything, it’s the unexpected, and while he might not be able to fight long tomorrow, he’ll fight hard. After the way you wounded him today, he’ll have no reason to temper his blows with any restraint either.”

  Kieran glanced away to wink at a comely lass and continued to search the hall for Madi. That she was petite made her easy to miss, but she could not remain in her chamber all evening. “I thought you’d merely warn me not to humiliate him too badly,” he replied with a careless smirk.

  Kieran was obviously in no mood to heed the wisdom of his words, but Garrick had invested far too much time and energy in tutoring him to allow him to fail. He knew precisely how to catch his attention and stepped close. “There’s talk of reviving the wings,” he confided.

  Greatly intrigued, Kieran straightened to his full height. He took note of those gathered below one of the tapestries depicting an ancient flight and could barely contain his excitement. “It’s not just a legend then, such a contest is actually possible?” he asked.

  Kieran had always been brash, a fault Cadell had tolerated if not encouraged, while Garrick had endeavored to rein in his charge’s youthful vigor. “Aye, it is possible, but at too great a risk.”

  “And facing Egan with a broadsword poses none?” Kieran replied before breaking into another burst of chuckles.

  As Ula joined them, she slid her arm around her son’s waist. She noted a lingering trace of perfume beneath the fresh scent of soap and immediately recognized its source. While she heartily disapproved of Fiona, the day had gone too well to dwell upon a brief liaison with an unsuitable companion. She had raised Kieran with an eye to the crown, but had never lost sight of the value of an occasional indulgence.

  “Bets are being placed on the manner of the next contest,” she revealed. “We must appear to give credence to all suggestions, even the absurd notion of wings, but let us confer in my chamber later to weigh the value of each possibility and make the wisest choice.”

  “I’ll listen with a keen ear as always, Mother, but I’m betting with my life, and the choice will be mine alone.”

  Ula’s cheeks colored with fury as Kieran left them to study the tapestries on his own. “How dare he speak to me in such a disrespectful fashion?” she hissed.

  Feigning tranquility, Garrick guided her toward the hearth, where he intended to ply her with wine. “You must not allow a frown to cross your brow, my lady,” he chided. “The secret of the wings has been lost, and even if Kieran is so foolish as to choose it, after a few bungling attempts to revive the art, he’ll realize his mistake. Then he’ll come begging for our sage counsel.”

  “You’re overlooking the rip in Egan’s side,” Ula responded sullenly. “He’ll be unlikely to pose a threat in any manner of challenge, but there will be no excuse for a careless choice.”

  “I agree, my lady,” Garrick assured her, but he refused to underestimate Egan.

  Skell circled his lovely daughter. Her gown was deep blue, and with her black hair and fair skin, the effect was magnificent. “You are the most beautiful young woman in all the Dál Cais. Now come with me to the great hall, and all the men will compete to impress you. What does it matter that Kieran is behaving badly? Once he is named king, he’ll value you highly as a bride.”

  Longing to be valued now, Madi’s lips were set in a childlike pout. She had always loved Kieran, and the dashing young man had been enough in himself, but she was newly intrigued by the prospect of becoming his queen.

  “What if he should lose the challenge?” she asked petulantly. “Will you be so eager to have me wed him then?”

  Skell paused at the doorway to give her question the consideration it deserved. Because Kieran would most likely be dead if he lost to Egan, he could see only one real possibility. “Egan is also handsome. Have you never harbored amorous feelings for him?”

  Stunned by how deftly he had sidestepped her question, Madi wove a stray strand into her long braids. “I’ve not seen enough of Egan to consider him in any way,” she replied. “But he’s claimed a stranger as his wife.”

  Skell walked back toward her, his long stride relaxed and confident. “Aye, so I’ve heard, and we’ll not speak of this again unless it becomes necessary, but I believe he can be made to see the wisdom in setting aside a woman who’ll bring him no staunch allies.”

  “To wed me?” Madi could scarcely imagine calling Egan husband, and yet the thought of following Ula as queen of the Dál Cais held an infinite appeal.

  “It’s Kieran I love,” she reminded her father. She came forward without further coaxing, and filled with a renewed sense of pride, left with Skell for the evening’s entertainment in the great hall.

  Albyn had taken as generous a helping of food up to Oriana as he had carried to Egan, then had begun circulating in the great hall. In his Druid’s cloak, he faded into the shadows and listened to the conversations drifting by.

  Quill had composed a new ballad about the challenge. While his verses described the combatants in heroic terms, he had wisely not prematurely taken sides. The rhythm was quick and the melody so appealing that many people were humming the tune along with the talented singer.

  Albyn watched the women sway against the men and noted more than one fond caress not meant for a husband’s eyes. While some were dark, and others fair, the Dál Cais were a handsome lot, and he did not begrudge them their romantic intrigues. To be excluded increased his loneliness though, and as soon as he overheard someone exclaim that Kieran did indeed possess the courage to fly, he returned to Egan’s chamber.

  As Albyn came through the door, Egan stared at him coldly. Had he not known what terrible pain it would cause himself, he would have hurled his empty platter at the Druid. “Anyone could have walked through my door,” Egan complained bitterly. “Did it not occur to you that Kieran might make a second attempt on my life?”

  “As a matter of fact, it did not, but posting a guard at your door would have made you appear helpless.” Pleased that Egan felt well enough to insult him, Albyn folded his arms within his sleeves and widened his stance.

  “I am helpless,” Egan nearly snarled.

  “True, but you’ll feel better on the morrow. If you’ve been so eager for company, it’s a shame you sent your devoted wife away. I offered to take her whatever she might have left behind here, but she acted as though she had no belongings.”

  “She doesn’t,” Egan admitted, “except for her Stones of Tomorrow.”

  “What might those be?” Albyn asked with forced nonchalance. �
��Does she use them to tell fortunes?”

  Albyn’s averted glance had not fooled Egan, especially now that he had made his interest in Oriana so plain. Early in the day, he could have discouraged that interest with his fists. Now he could only issue pathetic threats or ignore it altogether. He chose the latter.

  “You’ll have to ask her.”

  “I did, and she described only the voice of someone who remains unseen. Now you say she possesses some magical stones?”

  Egan regretted mentioning them. “How she uses them is her secret and not mine to reveal. Now stop wasting our time and explain this clever idea she had. I can’t sleep, so I might as well devise ways to carry it out.”

  “No, you needn’t do anything but listen carefully to what Kieran suggests when you next meet.” Albyn crossed to the fire and added another log.

  “That is the plan, that I merely listen?” Egan raised up slightly, then fell back on the bed. “How brilliant. Fortunately, all I am able to do is listen. Has Oriana discovered a way to make listening deadly?”

  “No, of course not, although I believe your uncle Yowan might be able to talk someone to death. As for Kieran, I doubt that he’ll waste a single word. Because listening will require such little effort, why not sleep?”

  “I cannot even breathe,” Egan complained through clenched teeth.

  Albyn came to his bedside. “Kieran’s knife bounced down your ribs. He didn’t pierce a lung.”

  “Is that meant as encouragement?” Egan struggled to shift his weight to his side so that he could prop himself up on his elbow. It did not feel any worse than lying flat on his back, and it gave him the hope he would be able to get off the bed on his own.

  “I don’t care what task or weapon Kieran chooses on the morrow,” Egan swore. “I’ll rip out his throat with my teeth.”

  “A splendid plan, and no worse than what he did to you,” Albyn commented slyly. “Now, at least close your eyes and rest. I’ll remain to serve as your guard.” He hooked the chair with his foot and turned it toward to the door.

  “Push the chair over here,” Egan ordered. “I can use it to stand.”

  Albyn thought him daft. “Rest until morning.”

  “Now.” Egan’s expression brooked no argument, and Albyn reluctantly set the sturdy chair beside the bed. Egan then grit his teeth and let his legs roll off the edge of the bed. After taking a firm hold on the back of the chair, he pulled himself up into a sitting position.

  Every single one of his stitches offered a searing complaint with that motion, and he had to bite back the cry that rose in his throat. He waited breathlessly for the pain to subside, but then he adjusted his grasp on the chair and pushed down hard with his legs to haul himself upright. He swayed, but remained standing. Sweat poured off his brow, but he still regarded getting off the bed as a proud accomplishment.

  Ready to catch him, Albyn hovered close. “There, you’ve proved you can stand. Now lie down before you faint as Oriana so often does.”

  Egan counted slowly to ten before easing himself back onto the bed. He breathed in and out in short, shallow gasps to subdue the torture he had just caused himself, and then fell back down across his bed. He did not want to believe he might be too weak to face Kieran, but when it took all his strength just to stand, how was he going to leave his room?

  “I won’t die like this,” he vowed, his voice hoarse from the strain.

  Albyn was as terrified as Egan, but he refused to speak his fears aloud while he held the hope that Kieran had eagerly seized upon the construction of wings to continue the challenge. “You’re a very long way from death,” Albyn assured him, and quickly posed a distraction. “It occurred to me just now that it might be more than fear that sends Oriana into a faint. Have you already gotten her with child?”

  Egan opened his mouth to argue he’d had scant time to accomplish that feat, but after considering the one night they had truly shared, his heart swelled with hope. “Aye,” he admitted proudly. “I may have.”

  “Then rest with dreams of a son, and the morrow will dawn with a fresh ray of hope.”

  “Did the Druids teach you to spout that nonsense?” Clearly disgusted, Egan pressed his shoulders down into the furs to get more comfortable and closed his eyes.

  Albyn hid his smile as he crossed to the door and threw the bolt. He repositioned the chair near the fire, and satisfied they would not be attacked that night, he sat down. He gazed into the fire in an attempt to follow his own advice and relax, but his fears for Egan were far too strong to dismiss.

  Oriana was also too anxious to sleep, but soon grew weary of pacing Adelaine’s chamber, and lay down upon her bed. She and her mother had never lived in a dwelling as spacious as Egan’s or Adelaine’s chambers, but as the fire died down, she took comfort in the memories of their tiny abodes.

  They had lived one whole year in a stone cottage with a thatched roof that had leaked whenever it rained. She had repeatedly climbed up on that miserable old thatch to add a fresh layer of dried grass, but the next storm always brought another annoying drip. They had finally abandoned the house and for a long while had taken refuge in a snug cave.

  Oriana had loved their forest homes best, although Egan would surely have mistaken the whimsical structures for heaps of kindling. They had often lived in tents and once upon a raft that floated in a placid stream.

  Oriana had never heard her mother complain of their meager circumstances. Instead, Rain had always greeted each new day as an adventure, and Oriana’s childhood, while unusual, had never been unhappy. Rain had usually kept them on the move and avoided inquisitive Druids, but Oriana had always felt as though they were on an ambitious quest rather than shielding a dangerous secret.

  Now she lay in a queen’s chamber, and while heartsick, had no dreams of home. All she had were memories of the one person who had truly loved her, and she hoped with all her heart that her dear mother and Lugh were together still.

  It would soon be Samhain, and while the festival welcomed the winter, for a brief time at least, the barriers between earth and the Otherworld were believed to dissolve. It was on the eve of Samhain when Lugh had come for her mother. If she could not live in this world with Egan, then she would pray to enter the Otherworld, where sorrow never touched the gods, nor, she hoped, their daughters.

  The next morning, Oriana knocked lightly on Egan’s door, and Albyn quickly admitted her. Among Adelaine’s many gowns, she had found one of deep purple with a matching tunic. She had tied her hair back with purple ribbons, and while she wore no jewelry other than the wooden beads Cadell had carved for Adelaine, she looked every inch a queen.

  Albyn swept her with an awed glance, but she saw only Egan, who was standing beside the bed. He was dressed in clean clothing, and although he clung to the back of the chair, his posture was admirably straight. His expression was grimly determined, but his eyes were dulled by pain, and his skin pale.

  Rather than approach him, Oriana remained standing just inside the door. “You look well, my lord,” she greeted him.

  She was so exquisitely beautiful, Egan could almost forgive Albyn’s adoring gaze. That he had missed her terribly was something he dared not admit. Nor would he whisper a word of his hopes for a son.

  “Albyn wrapped my ribs so tightly that I’m in greater danger of suffocating than I am of succumbing to another of Kieran’s vile tricks. Albyn insisted upon awaiting your arrival before we made our way down the stairs, but I’ve no need of a woman’s strength.”

  Concerned, Oriana glanced toward Albyn, who simply shook his head in dismay. “You’re obviously in too much pain to think clearly, so please allow us to assist you. However you reach the bailey, you must appear strong and confident no matter how badly you actually feel. If I am with you, it will inspire trust in your abilities. If I’m not, it will be rumored that I’ve lost faith and abandoned you.”

  Egan ground his teeth against the persistent pain that coursed down his side with the steady rhythm of the oce
an’s waves. “That may well be true, but I don’t want you there,” he exclaimed.

  “Even in your fortress, Egan, I’ll go where I please,” Oriana responded, “but I wish you had more faith in me.”

  Egan flexed his hands and relaxed his grip on the chair. “Whatever Kieran proposes, I won’t forfeit the match.” He paused to gather the words that were an agony to speak. “I’ll not have you watch me die. If it’s Kieran who lives to become king, then I want Albyn to take you away. Return to the forest if you must, but you’re not to remain here to weep over my grave.”

  Oriana refused to contemplate such a pitiful scene. She hated to have him suffer such unnecessary anguish, but thought it best not to give him hope for something that might not materialize. “If you are dead, I’ll leave here most willingly, but for the moment, you are very much alive. Now let’s make our way downstairs and listen to what Kieran has to say.”

  “‘Listen,’” Egan mimicked rudely. “The way you listen to me?”

  “Today I’ll listen only to my heart,” Oriana promised.

  “Even if my disobedient bride refuses to heed my words, you are to do as I say, Albyn. If you must, flee the fortress before anyone realizes the threat Oriana poses. Give me your word you’ll not tarry.”

  Albyn was also loath to admit this might be Egan’s last morning, but he forced himself to nod before turning to Oriana. “We should be prepared to leave immediately. You should bring your Stones of Tomorrow.”

  If only to ease Egan’s mind, Oriana fetched the embroidered pouch from behind the chest where she had left her travel bag. She had absolutely no intention of allowing Kieran to kill Egan, and if need be, a sturdy bag weighted with stones would make an excellent weapon.

  Egan watched Oriana do Albyn’s bidding and felt sick clear through. He was not afraid of dying, although he wished he could have had more time to love Oriana. He wanted to stand and fight, and now he doubted he could even walk to the door. He drew in a deep breath, let go of the chair, and the whole room spun around him.