by Phoebe Conn
Balanced on her knees, Oriana rose up, and then again took him deep. She had such delicacy and grace, and yet a hunger that matched his own. She coaxed the response he fought to withhold, and all too soon a consuming desire outstripped his restraint.
Egan smothered an exultant cry in her curls and felt her responding joy shudder through them both. He kept her locked in an embrace until his arms began to ache with the effort, but even then, he was reluctant to let her go.
“If this is a curse,” he whispered, “then I welcome it without a trace of dread.”
Oriana rolled her hips against his and felt him again swell within her. She moved with a graceful dip to ease the tantalizing ache. Then, fearing pleasure this great would surely cost them dearly, she lost herself in his kiss rather than weep for a future they might not live to share.
Chapter Nineteen
Early the next morning, Albyn rode out to the forest with Yowan and his sons. Yowan had been eager to describe their progress and waved his arms in elaborate gestures, but Albyn needed to actually see the wing for himself. The men had hoisted it into the branches of a tall oak to disguise it from view, and the younger and more nimble of Yowan’s lads scrambled up the tree to carefully handle the rope and lower it.
The lightweight frame was lashed together with sinews. It was larger than Albyn had expected, but beautiful in its simplicity. He walked the length of it, and noted how the sides duplicated the bone structure of a bird’s wings. Thicker branches reinforced the center, from which Egan would be suspended.
He nodded thoughtfully. “What will you use to cover it?”
Yowan exchanged an anxious glance with his sons. “We’ve been debating our choices. A good stout linen should carry a man, but we’re not satisfied with merely getting Egan aloft.”
“Neither am I,” Albyn agreed. “I’ll get whatever you need.”
Yowan raised a hand. “Leave it to us. We’re thinking we’ll stretch calfskin taut as though we were making a drum. The wind rushing up Mount Royal is as unpredictable as a woman’s heart. Using skins will add a bit of weight to the wing, but the necessary strength is what we’re after.”
Yowan continued to study his handiwork before looking up. “How is Egan faring?” he asked. “Is his side on the mend?”
Albyn could only voice his hopes. “I believe so.”
“Good. When we have the covering in place, I’ll fashion a leather harness to suspend him from the wing, but he’ll need to be agile enough to shift his weight to control it in the wind.” He gestured with surprising grace to suggest a dipping and gliding motion.
Albyn was impressed not only with Yowan’s accomplishments thus far, but also with his vision. “There will be little, if any, opportunity for practice.”
“We’re moving with all possible haste, my lads and I, but I’d not want Kieran to glimpse our wing and improve upon his own design.”
“Then how will Egan practice? He has to try the wing before the eve of Samhain. He can’t just strap on the harness and leap off Mount Royal.”
“I’m afraid he’ll have to,” Yowan’s eldest son said. “But Kieran will have no advantage. His men are copying the tapestry, and while the shape is accurate, it’s too small. He’ll plummet straight into the side of the mountain and bounce on down like a handful of pebbles.”
Albyn brushed aside that gloomy prediction. “Kieran has invited whatever disaster befalls him. Now I’ll delay your work no longer. If you encounter any unforeseen difficulty, summon me immediately.”
“Aye, that we’ll do,” Yowan replied, and he and his sons bent down beside their fanciful creation to make certain the bindings were secure.
As Albyn returned to the fortress, he worried a healthy man would have trouble handling a wing on his first flight. One with a weakened left side would be at a severe disadvantage. There was no point in sharing his apprehensions with Egan, however, and he fixed on an encouraging smile before knocking on Adelaine’s door.
When Oriana welcomed him into the room with a charming smile that lit her eyes with a bright sparkle, he knew instinctively what had caused the great improvement in her mood. He felt a momentary flash of jealousy, but promptly smothered it with gratitude that Egan felt well enough to make love to his bride.
Egan had been pacing the chamber to build his strength, but he welcomed Albyn’s interruption and sat down on the end of the bed. “What have you found?” he asked.
“Yowan does indeed know how to construct a wing, and he and his sons are well on their way to completing it. I would like for you to practice though, and it will be difficult to arrange without Kieran benefiting as greatly as you.”
Egan winked at Oriana, but he wished she had somewhere to go to allow him to converse freely with Albyn. During the day, female guests usually gathered in the great hall to embroider or to simply exchange gossip with Ula, but that would be the last place Oriana would feel at ease. He had not considered how her lack of family and friends would limit her activities and deeply regretted the oversight.
With Albyn shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, and Egan eyeing her with a preoccupied frown, Oriana quickly grasped what neither wished to say. “From what I can glimpse through the narrow windows, it appears to be a pleasant morning. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll venture out for a stroll along the bluff.”
“Aye, you should take advantage of the fine weather,” Egan urged. “Each day grows cooler.”
Albyn watched as Oriana donned her cloak, and he moved aside to allow her sufficient room to pass. She was gone before he had thought of anything worth saying, but he felt foolish for not at least wishing her an enjoyable outing.
“Hurry and find your own woman,” Egan chided. “The way you continually drool over mine is damn annoying.”
Albyn was fully aware of how poor a job he had done of hiding his desire, and he accepted the criticism with a careless shrug. “Oriana is not only lovely, she’s clever enough to give us the opportunity to plot alone. How do you really feel?”
“If I move with deliberate care, there’s little pain, but flying will demand a flexibility I’ve yet to regain.”
“You still have five days,” Albyn murmured, “but don’t test your limits until you must. Of course, when it comes to your charming bride, it’s plain you already have.”
Egan checked his laugh to avoid straining his side and produced only a hoarse chuckle. “Is it that easy to observe?”
“Aye, there’s definitely a gleam in the eye of a woman who’s been well loved.”
“And a man as well, I imagine,” Egan insisted. He drew in a shallow breath, and then pulled in another. “I’ll not relieve you of your promise though. Should I strap on the wing and sail off into the clouds, or worse, crash into the rocky sides of Mount Royal, you must spirit Oriana away while everyone is still cheering for Kieran.”
Albyn gave a grudging nod. “Kieran is the more likely to die.”
Egan stared up at his friend and wondered if he actually believed that they held the advantage. “What if Kieran suffers several broken bones and Garrick hands you the ritual dagger. Could you end his life?”
“Garrick helped raise Kieran, and he would protect him rather than demand I slit his throat. It’s you he’d want me to kill, to torture us both, but I’d sooner turn the dagger on him. I hope he knows that, but before Oriana returns, I suppose we should discuss all the possibilities, no matter how distasteful or remote.”
Egan was surprised by the dark anger that deepened Albyn’s voice when he had spoken Garrick’s name. He had not heard of one Druid stabbing another, and he had no wish to inspire such a murder when Albyn would never escape the fortress alive.
“If after the flight, I’m no more than a twitching mass of broken bones, do not hesitate to plant the dagger in my heart,” he urged forcefully. “It’s Oriana you’ve sworn to protect, and I’ll gladly buy her life with my blood.”
Albyn understood precisely what he might have to do, but Eg
an’s death would be far too high a price to pay for the privilege of serving as Oriana’s escort. He had to force a reply over the painful knot in his throat. “I want you to win this ridiculous challenge and live to be a very old man, but should there be a need, I’ll gladly guard Oriana’s life with my own.”
Convinced that he would, Egan let the matter rest. “Tomorrow I hope to be well enough to ride, and we’ll take the falcons out to hunt.”
“You want to hunt? You can’t miss the taste of pheasant that greatly.”
After shifting his weight forward on the balls of his feet, Egan rose, and with a careful stretch reached his full height. “You’ll have to agree it’s delicious meat, but what I really mean to do is watch my birds in flight. It sounds as though Yowan’s wing will get me in the air, but the man who soars the longest will be the victor.”
“He must also survive the trip back to earth,” Albyn interjected.
“Coming down will be the easy part. But I mean to learn how a hawk stays in the sky for as long as he pleases. Oriana insists the birds should be studied, and I believe her.”
He began to pace again. Rather than favor his left side, he took carefully measured steps of equal length. “You saw the wing. What do you think of it?”
“It was beautiful. I just wish there were a way for you to practice.”
“We’ll look for a hill,” Egan suggested. “Or perhaps I could gain sufficient speed from the back of a horse to be lifted into the air.”
Aghast at that preposterous thought, Albyn pointed toward the bed. “Go back to sleep,” he ordered. “Perhaps when you awaken your mind will be clear.”
“My head is already clearer than yours will ever be. Now leave me be,” Egan responded without breaking his stride.
Albyn hesitated as he weighed what he wished to say. “There’s something else. I have listened as I promised, but if there was a plot to kill your father, I’ve not overheard so much as a whisper of it. I did speak with Quill, however, in hopes he might have observed something that would help us.”
Grasping that hope, Egan turned slowly. “Had he?”
“No, but he mentioned your father had asked him to compose a tribute for your mother. Apparently her memory remained dear to him, and he’d ask Quill to sing her song whenever they were alone together.”
Egan paused to peer out the window at the clear blue sky and wished his future were equally untroubled. “It was just as I suspected then,” he murmured. “He treated Ula well and frequently shared her bed, but he continued to love my mother.” As he would cherish Oriana to the end of his days.
“Let’s watch Ula,” Albyn proposed. “She must believe she’s escaped suspicion in your father’s death, and perhaps she’ll grow careless and inadvertently reveal her guilt.”
“I’d rather watch a spider weave its web,” Egan replied darkly.
Albyn had not meant to depress Egan’s mood and hastened to distract him. “Come dine with us in the great hall tonight if you’re able. It will build confidence in your cause if the others see you.”
“Aye, I know the mere appearance of weakness will harm me as greatly as another knife wound. I’ll be there tonight rather than feed the rumor that I’m too weak to appear. I just can’t promise I’ll be able to swallow what I’m served.”
“As long as you are there, it will be enough,” Albyn replied.
After Albyn had gone, Egan continued to pace. He had spent too much time in bed the last two days to crave more sleep. Sleep was for old men, not a young one bent on outwitting his brother.
The flight would be difficult at best and at worst fatal, but he could not escape the horrible suspicion that there would be yet another test before he was allowed to reign in peace. He had once been the most confident of men, but perhaps he had merely been stupid not to have anticipated how much could go awry.
Oriana walked along the bluff thinking she had always been occupied with the business of living, but now her days stretched out before her without a single chore to do. Not that caring for Egan did not demand her full attention, but it did not require the same effort as walking from dawn to dusk, or foraging for grain in a field a farmer and his kin had picked clean.
The Dál Cais had food aplenty and handsomely carved chests overflowing with finely tailored garments and a treasure in gold and jewels. But she stayed only for the joy of being with Egan. He was the love of her life, and she would cease to exist should she lose him.
As she returned to the bailey, her attention was immediately drawn to a cloud white mare tied outside the stable. A wiry red-haired lad was combing out her mane with long, furious strokes, and while agitated, the horse was tethered on too short a rope to escape his brutish attentions.
“She needs a lighter hand,” Oriana called out as she approached him.
Startled by the rebuke, the boy lost his grip on the comb. He made a hurried grab but succeeded only in flipping it into the air where it tumbled out of reach before landing in the dirt. He then got down on his knees to retrieve it, but pulled away rather than risk being trampled under the mare’s dancing hooves.
He sent Oriana a frightened glance, and when she continued to walk toward him, he ran for the forge, where the smith was working at his anvil with a lively clanging beat.
Oriana had not meant to terrify the stable boy, but neither could she have kept quiet and allowed him to abuse the horse. She ran her hand over the mare’s smooth white rump and spoke to her softly. “You’re such a pretty thing and shouldn’t be treated as though you were a shaggy old sheepdog who had muddied his coat.”
The mare tossed her head in apparent agreement and, growing calm, ceased pulling on her tether, which allowed Oriana to scoop up the comb. She ran it carefully through the mare’s mane and worked out the snarls without causing the horse any further distress. Delighted to have some useful work, she hummed happily to herself and failed to notice Albyn’s arrival until he laid a hand on her shoulder.
“What are you doing?” he leaned down to whisper. “You ought not to be working in the stable.”
“I’m not actually inside the stable now, am I?” Oriana replied. “Nor am I working. The stable boy was mistreating this mare, and clearly she’s someone’s precious pet. As long as she looks her best, I doubt her owner will care who combed her mane and tail.”
Afraid she had been observed, Albyn glanced over his shoulder and was relieved to discover the daily routine of the fortress had continued uninterrupted all around them. Two girls were drawing water at the well, another carried a basket toward the vegetable and herb garden. There were men stacking firewood, while others unloaded a wagon filled with sacks of grain. He heard the squeal of a pig and the crowing of a rooster.
Several men exchanged bawdy boasts as they rode out to hunt. There were so many guests, many horses had been penned outside the fortress walls. But this particular mare had been singled out for a special purpose.
Oriana was obviously enjoying herself, but when her attentions were completely misplaced, he could not withhold the truth. “This mare is not a pet,” he explained. “When Egan becomes king, there will be a ceremonial marriage between him and the goddess of the land. He’ll slay this white mare, and her flesh will be cooked and eaten. Some kings are rumored to have mated with the white mare before sacrificing her, and to have bathed in the broth boiled from her meat, but I doubt Egan will carry his ceremony to those extremes.”
Albyn’s description of the mare’s intended fate sickened Oriana clear through, and she let the comb slip from her fingers. Surely it had been a Druid who had devised such a disgusting ceremony rather than a king.
Albyn caught the comb in midair and slipped it into the mare’s mane, where it stuck like a woman’s comb. “I will walk you to your chamber,” he announced. Should she object, he intended to carry her.
Oriana took a step toward the keep, but she was too confused to walk quietly. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she complained in a frantic whisper. “If the mare is a s
ymbol of the goddess, then sacrificing her and eating her flesh should outrage rather than please her.”
Albyn took a firm grip on her upper arm. “If you care nothing for your own life, then for Egan’s sake, do not question the Druid’s rituals. Most especially not to a Druid,” he emphasized.
“I believed the Druids could at least think, but clearly you have no logical response to even the most obvious question.”
“What makes you so knowledgeable to the gods’ desires? Have you ever met one?”
Oriana regarded him with an enigmatic smile. “Aye, once. But you should be contemplating your own life, not those of the gods.”
“I do little else,” he confessed. “But you must tell me which god you saw and where.”
“This is not the time,” Oriana responded, and moving ahead of him, she led the way to Adelaine’s chamber.
Albyn hoped that Egan would be asleep, but he was still pacing with a determined stride. “I must beg for another moment,” Albyn said as he followed Oriana through the door.
Egan, however, wanted only to lose himself in his affectionate bride, and he pulled her close to his side. “You may always have a moment, but today, no more.”
The chamber held a faint odor of lavender Albyn hadn’t noticed on his previous visits, and when he glanced around, he was almost surprised not to find Adelaine present. It was an uncomfortable sensation he fought to shake.
He briefly recounted Oriana’s objection to sacrificing a pretty mare and raised his hand to forestall Egan’s defense. “It is an ancient ceremony, and while it may actually make as little sense as Oriana claims, it will continue.”
Egan’s first thought was of his father, who had possessed the insight to cut to the heart of any dispute. He tried to imagine what Cadell would say in this case and, nearly overcome with emotion, he had to clear his throat before he spoke.