Oriana thought better of discussing how each had slept, but she was enjoying the morning more than she had thought possible. The sun lent Egan’s hair a glossy blue sheen, and striding through the meadow with his gyrfalcon on his arm, he was breathtakingly handsome. It was a memory she longed to keep, but as they neared the fortress on their return, she grew alarmed.
“Where’s the guard?” she asked anxiously.
Undaunted, Egan rode on through the gate, but he swiftly drew Raven to a halt, for it appeared his whole family had gathered in the bailey to await
his return. Their expressions were darkly forbidding rather than welcoming, and grasping for a necessary advantage, he remained seated astride his stallion. When Garrick left the crowd to approach him, he swore under his breath.
“How good of you to make such a swift return,” the Druid greeted him.
“Was there some doubt that I wouldn’t?” Egan replied.
Garrick laughed and gestured toward the waiting crowd. “You have wandered in the past, and the habit has inspired a challenge.”
Egan sent Albyn a quick sidelong glance, but his old friend just shook his head, clearly as dumbfounded as he. “What sort of challenge?” he asked.
Kieran broke free of the crowd to approach his half brother. “There are those who believe that I’d make the better king.”
“You?” Egan responded incredulously. He thrust his chin toward the crowd. “Do you need our whole clan for the courage to confront me?”
“I need no one but you, and I demand the ancient trials.”
Egan shook his head sadly. “You are no match for me.”
“The trials will prove who’s fit to be king. Let them begin.”
Egan regarded Garrick with a menacing glance. “This is your doing. Do you really want Kieran’s blood on your hands?”
Garrick slid those same pale hands into his flowing sleeves. “Once made, a challenge can not be refused. Do you wish to begin now, or do you require a day to prepare?”
Oriana said a silent prayer that he would demand at least a day for whatever the ancient trials entailed, but just as she had feared, Egan threw his leg over his saddle and jumped to the ground.
“I’ll not waste another minute,” he shouted. “Let the trials begin.”
Oriana had seen Egan fight and was confident he would win, but she hated for it to come at the cost of his brother’s life. She searched above for a sign Lugh was still near, but the cloudless sky was unnaturally still, and her heart beat louder than the restless crowd’s murmurs.
Chapter Eleven
“Wait, my lord!” Garrick shouted.
Egan turned but continued to back away toward the fortress. “Has Kieran withdrawn his challenge?”
“No. I wish only to remind you that if the man who triumphs is himself severely wounded, he will forfeit all hope of becoming king.” Garrick paused to shift his icy gaze toward Albyn. “Should it be necessary to end a wounded man’s suffering, I will hand Albyn the ritual dagger.”
Egan accepted Garrick’s conditions with a careless shrug, but Oriana was horrified. She watched the color fade beneath Albyn’s deep tan, and knew he was equally sickened by Garrick’s threat.
“Can’t you stop this?” she begged.
Unable to meet her anguished gaze, Albyn drew in a ragged breath. “Unless Egan steps aside to allow Kieran to rule in his place, which he will never do, the challenge must proceed.”
Desperate for help, Oriana’s glance swept the restive crowd, and she swiftly took note of the many dark-robed Druids. Their spacing was curiously even and formed as well-ordered a pattern as a clan’s plaid. Noting the watchful glances passing between them, she thought it more likely they were there to incite trouble than to prevent it.
Unlike last night, she was the lone woman present. Where were Ula, Madi, and all their pretty relatives now? she wondered. Were they napping to restore their beauty? Were they bathing in water scented with perfumed oils? Could they be plaiting their hair with flowers? Perhaps their absence merely foretold the bloodshed she had been unable to predict.
Without so much as a wave for her, Egan had entered the fortress, but Kieran stood rooted in place, hands clasped behind his back. Even turned at an angle, he bore an eerie resemblance to his elder brother. Oriana thought it a great pity their hearts held no similar accord.
“Where has Egan gone?” she whispered anxiously.
“To fetch his weapons,” Albyn replied, “but the challenger has the first choice.”