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Obviously insulted, Oriana replied with a threatening glance, but Egan was not intimidated. From one moment to the next he was never certain what to expect from her, but still, she appeared especially anxious this night.
“There’s something more you’re not telling me,” he insisted. When she looked away, he was certain he had hit upon a secret worth hearing, and after peeling off his shoes, rose to confront her.
Oriana refused to look up at him. If he did not realize the threat she posed to every Druid’s power, she would not hand him that weapon to use against her. She would never endanger his life, but doubted he would continue to be a faithful champion should the Druids condemn her.
“I’ve never known you to be this strangely quiet,” Egan complained. “If you’ll not share any additional worry, share whatever you can about Albyn. I doubt he needs to select one of your Stones of Tomorrow for his future to be revealed. Come on, now. You needn’t cling to your shy pose when we’re alone. Tell me what you can.”
Oriana raised her chin proudly. “I’ve no wish to see into a Druid’s future.”
Egan offered the chair, and when Oriana refused, he eased himself down into it. “Are you admitting that you’re unable to do so?”
“No. I simply won’t. There’s a vast difference between the two.”
“I’ll concede the point, but Albyn might have greater need of your advice than even I do, so I’m begging you to give it.”
“A king does not beg,” Oriana reminded him.
Egan doubted a more stubborn wench had ever been born. “There are times when I regret allowing Duncan to live. Perhaps if I’d left his headless body twitching in the road, you’d be more eager to do my bidding.”
“Perhaps,” Oriana agreed absently, but she did not enjoy his grisly image and dropped to her knees beside him. Eager to soften his stance, she was
forced to risk trusting him with at least a partial truth.
“You must understand, to tell a Druid’s fortune is to challenge his own abilities in that regard. When it might provoke a furious response, I dare not do it—not even for you.”
The fear in her eyes was so real that he was surprised her true predicament had eluded him. Her glossy curls caught the fire’s churning light, and he stroked her hair gently. “We may have a strange pact, but I’ll not break it. If you won’t tell Albyn’s fortune, then tell me instead if I can trust him.”
Oriana tipped her head, unconsciously leaning into his caress. “You won’t tell him what I’ve said, nor repeat it to any of the others?”
Egan had already given her his word and found this additional request merely annoying. “What? And risk having them kidnap you to serve them?”
Oriana had been terrified of a swift death rather than being held captive, but she nodded as though being forced to tell fortunes for another were her sole concern. “You must swear it,” she insisted.
Egan had to shift in the chair to raise his right hand. “I promise, yet again,” he said, but she was so very lovely in the firelight that it was impossible for him to be cross with her. When she rose and moved a step away, he nearly cried out, and he reached out to brush his fingertips along the hem of her tunic.
Completely unaware of Egan’s change in mood, Oriana stared into the leaping flames to focus her mind. She called upon the knowing to speak of Albyn’s fate, but rather than the calm reply she had always heard, this was a mere whisper above the crackling fire. She had to strain to catch it all.
After a long moment, she spoke softly. “You were right; Albyn is deeply troubled. He’s chosen the wrong path in life, and his heart longs to begin a different journey.” She saw glorious things for him but limited her response to satisfy the minimum of Egan’s request.
“Before Albyn departs, he’ll prove his worth to you a dozen times over. He is more brother than friend, but when the time comes, you must bid him farewell without argument.”
Egan had fiercely opposed Albyn’s desire to forsake the fortress, and their friendship, to pursue a Druid’s quest, but Oriana’s prediction offered little satisfaction that he had been right years ago. “How will I recognize that crucial moment?” he asked.
“It will be as clear as your own reflection in a placid lake,” Oriana assured him.
“Are you thinking of that magical lake where your mother met Lugh?”
The impatient edge had returned to his voice, but suddenly weary, she refused to argue. “Yes, but any lake will do.”
Egan stared up at her, as much to memorize her delicate features as to study her closed expression. She had accurately described Albyn’s dilemma when he had given her no real clue as to its origin, but he wanted still more.
“What if I were to refuse and instead insisted that he remain here with me?” he asked.
It was his very nature to press for every advantage, and because she had given in to him once, he would be merciless in seeking more. Oriana was sorry she had deigned to confide in him.
She had the true advantage, of course, because she could read Albyn’s future, if not Egan’s, and knew Albyn would be gone before spring. That allowed her to be creative and indulge in a bit of dark fantasy.
“Should you dare to oppose his departure,” she reported with mock dread, “you will create a more powerful enemy than even your bloodthirsty imagination can devise. You must not even consider defying his need to seek his own fate separate from yours. Now you must excuse me, my lord. It has been a very long day, and I can no longer remain awake.”
