As they neared the rocky coast, Egan pointed toward the craggy face of a mountain half veiled in mist. “My home lies just ahead,” he bent to announce, his breath warm against Oriana’s ear.
Oriana strained to see. This was no crannog with thatch-roofed huts, but a stone fortress cradled against the mountain’s stark cliffs. She caught sight of the black pennant flying from the tower the same instant as Egan did. He cried out as though he had been struck, and she had no time to brace herself before he yanked Raven to a jarring halt.
Egan leaped from his stallion’s back with Oriana still clutched in his arms. He swung her around to face him, and his fingers dug into her arms like claws. “This was no mere prophecy,” he screamed. “All this time you’ve known my father was dead!”
Furious anger darkened his eyes to a threatening gray, and Oriana looked up at the mighty warrior she had hoped would slay Duncan O Floinn. Egan had possessed the strength that day, but not this stunning violence. He could snap her neck as easily as a twig, and she sensed he was sorely tempted.
“I shared all I knew as a warning,” she reminded him. “Perhaps now you’ll believe in the danger that surrounds you.”
Egan shoved her away with a foul oath. “You are the greatest danger I’ll ever face!”
“I’m no threat,” Oriana assured him calmly. “You are your father’s heir, and that’s where the danger lies.”
Egan could barely force himself to think beyond the crushing pain of his loss. He stared at the black pennant and thought himself a fool for leaving home to chase a prophecy that had led him to the greatest tragedy he had ever known. He drew his knife and cut Brute’s tether, then tossed it to Oriana.
“Aye, I am his heir, and now king of the Dál Cais. I have no further need of you. Take this cursed horse and be gone.”
Oriana stared in stunned silence as Egan left her to lead Raven up the wide trail to his home. She had sought to end their bargain, but not with this bitter scene and his heart broken.
“No, I think not,” she said in a vivid imitation of Egan’s frequent vow.
A gust of wind whipped her curls, lashing her face, and she quickly pulled her hood low to protect her eyes. She then gave Brute a fierce yank to start him along the path, and with a regal step followed the angry young king.
Chapter Four
Oriana struggled to keep up with Egan, but within moments the mist rolled down off the mountain, slid into the valley, and surrounded her in a thick shimmering veil. One moment Egan and Raven were just ahead of her on the trail, and the next, both man and horse had vanished in the moist haze. Oriana dared not call out and infuriate Egan further, so she hurried after him, straining to follow the echo of Raven’s hooves on the rocky trail. She yanked on Brute’s tether, but he was unwilling to tread upon ground he could no longer see clearly and stubbornly resisted her lead.
To Oriana’s left, the sea slammed against the rocky cliffs, inspiring her to guide Brute to her right. Unwilling to abandon her mount, she feared she had missed the entrance to Egan’s fortress when just ahead she saw a torch flare. The light barely pierced the deepening mist, but allowed Oriana to make out the shadowy outlines of Egan and Raven.
They were standing outside a wide iron gate that was embedded in a high stone wall. In another few steps, she would have led Brute right into them. Relieved and yet anxious still, she hung back as the gate was raised with a squealing clang. There was still time to retreat unnoticed, but she watched in rapt fascination as Egan was quickly surrounded by six torch-bearing guards.
For an instant, they appeared to dance around him in a welcoming circle, then reversing direction to uncoil, they led him through the gate. The instant Egan again disappeared from view, Oriana’s decision was made. She urged Brute forward. Because of her flowing cloak, she was immediately mistaken for a servant Egan had acquired on his travels. She kept her head low, pressed close to the huge gelding as she untied her travel bag and went unnoticed as Egan questioned the men.
Egan shouted at each in turn, yanked them forward and then shoved them aside as he sought a reasonable explanation for his father’s sudden and totally unexpected death. Nothing he heard satisfied him, and he began a second round of insistent questioning. In the flickering torchlight, his expression was as harsh as the raw edge of his voice, and his gaze as dark as his grief.
Oriana caught only snatches of the disjointed conversations, but heard enough to understand Egan’s father had fallen ill rather than suffered a fatal accident. Others had also contracted the same grave illness, but clearly Egan cared only about the man the guards referred to as Cadell.
In an anguishing quandary, Egan did not catch sight of Oriana until he turned to hand Raven’s reins to one of the guards. His eyes widened slightly, as though her lingering presence was an additional dreadful shock. He raised his hand to point accusingly, and his lips curled in a menacing snarl.
Oriana straightened to face Egan squarely, and heard more than one gasp of surprise as the men who had greeted him now recognized her as a woman rather than a helpful lad. The abrupt arrival of darkness had brought a chill, and it was all she could do not to shiver pathetically. She watched Egan’s hand as his gesture took form, but there was no dread in her expression. She smiled slightly, as if to remind him that he had been the one to seek her out and bring her there.
Egan stared at Oriana, more furious with himself than he could ever be with her, but he could not understand why she had followed him when the sight of her sickened him so. Perhaps all she wanted was the gold he had promised, but she had been a fool to risk his continuing wrath when the price could very well be her life.
Who’s the fool?
Egan heard the softly voiced question clearly but when he glanced over his shoulder, no one stood behind him. Indeed, the guards at the gate had pressed themselves back against the wall to escape another taste of his anger.
He had never heard voices and could not even imagine who might have spoken now. His father’s ghost, perhaps, he agonized. Then the melody Oriana had claimed belonged to Lugh brushed by his ear in a gentle hush, and its sweetness filled his heart with an aching sorrow. Confused and bewildered, he swayed slightly, then turned his palm upward to beckon Oriana to come forward.
Even in her patched cloak, she moved so gracefully she seemed almost to float, and though Egan was certain it was a trick of the mist, he was still moved by the sight. Shaking off that unwanted distraction, he gave the guards a quick order.
“Care for our horses, and one of you should show my lady to my chamber. I’m going to find Ula.”
Egan turned away, leaving Oriana surrounded by men too awestruck to carry out his commands. There was no hostility in their eyes, but simply undisguised amazement. She was equally astonished that Egan had referred to her as his lady, but there had been no time, nor was he in any mood, for her to debate the curious label now.
Striving valiantly to assure respect for Egan’s orders, she cleared her throat. “I doubt the horses are any happier than I am to be kept waiting out here in the cold, but Egan will scarcely be pleased to learn how slowly you do his bidding.”
After an embarrassed jostling, one of the men was shoved forward by his companions. He made a perfunctory bow, then raised his torch and led the way across the open bailey to the inner fortress. A small door cut into a much larger wooden entrance swung open as they reached