Dawn Of Desire - Page 61

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.

Tags: Phoebe Conn Historical
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