“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.