“That’s not true. All along you’ve had friends who’ve loved you and eased your way.”
“Perhaps,” Albyn conceded, “but their kindness scarcely eases the ache in my soul.” He hesitated briefly, then asked what he truly wished to know: “Can you teach me how to divine the future? Whatever it is you do, will you explain it, or show me the steps? You have my word I’ll not pass along your secrets. This is something I want for myself alone, not for all Druids.”
Oriana did not doubt his sincerity, but she could not comply. “It isn’t something I learned or can teach,” she explained. “It is, just as you described Egan’s survival, a gift from the gods. When someone comes seeking their fortune, I hear a voice not unlike that of a friend whispering secrets, and it tells me all I wish to know. It wasn’t until I met Egan, however, that I encountered anyone whose path lay hidden from me. It took me a while to understand why.”
While disheartened, Albyn refused to abandon the subject. “Would you teach me if your gift could be taught?”
Oriana thought his question ridiculous, but he was a loyal friend and deserved a sympathetic response. “Because it can be more of a curse than a blessing, I’d have to consider the question and more carefully weigh the advantages and disadvantages.”
Completely dissatisfied with her evasive reply, Albyn returned to the chair. Oriana had such a persuasive manner, he feared she could convince him of anything, but he could not help but wonder if the voice she heard did not exist solely in her head.
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?”