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That same afternoon, Kieran succumbed to the flirtatious wiles of a charming widow. With Madi shunning him, he was more than willing to be seduced. Fiona had never made any secret of her passionate nature, and it was widely believed to have hastened her husband’s demise. Kieran, however, felt invincible that day and harbored no fear that bedding her would shorten his life.
Fiona was tall, curvaceous, and so fair that her flowing tresses shimmered with an ivory gleam. She was as lusty a lover as any man could ever hope to find, but best of all, she bore absolutely no resemblance to Madi. Kieran had not wasted a moment in conversation, but had immediately sought to satisfy their mutual cravings.
It was a diverting game, but eventually Fiona became sated and fell asleep. Kieran, however, quickly shook off the remnants of their bliss and left her bed. Fiona was a pretty thing. Not that he would have wed her, for a king has to have heirs, and since her appetite for men had brought her no babes, clearly she was barren.
He left without waking her and whistled a favorite tune as he moved with a careless swagger to his own chamber. He was eager to make ready for the night’s merriment and quickly rinsed away Fiona’s cloying perfume and dressed with meticulous care.
His cousins welcomed him into the great hall with loud whoops and cheers, but his mood remained restrained until it became obvious Egan was too severely injured to appear. He had concealed only a slender blade in his waistband and had feared it might prove too small to be effective.
Luck had been with him, however. If his good fortune held, that desperate swim would be the end of the challenge. His chest swelled with pride as he silently proclaimed himself the new ruler of the Dál Cais.
Garrick had spent the afternoon nurturing support for Kieran, and he had been gratified by the response he had received until a ridiculous rumor reached his ears. He had been astonished, but with several young men gazing up at the tapestries, he could smell the threat in the air.
He waited impatiently for Kieran to leave Bevan’s sons, and then strode to his side. “Where have you been?” he scolded under his breath, and turned away to smile confidently at those standing nearby.
Kieran took a long sip of wine before he replied, and a mischievous light brightened his dark eyes. “It was a strenuous morning. I needed a rest.”
“You weren’t in your chamber,” Garrick observed pointedly.
“The fortress has many beds, and I found another,” Kieran said with an amused chuckle. “Have you tasted the wine? Tonight’s seems especially sweet.”
Garrick grabbed Kieran’s wrist before he could down another drop. “Stay sober. You’ve not yet won the challenge, and it’s much too soon to celebrate.”
Kieran stiffened, and responded with such an icy glare, Garrick promptly dropped his hand. Still insulted, the young man chose his words with care. “Egan isn’t here, and I doubt he’ll be able to leave his bed on the morrow. If I want to celebrate that promising fact, I’ll do so with as much wine as I please.”
“The cellar does not hold enough wine to please you,” Garrick was quick to argue. “But while you’re still sober, we must make our plans. If we can count on Egan to do anything, it’s the unexpected, and while he might not be able to fight long tomorrow, he’ll fight hard. After the way you wounded him today, he’ll have no reason to temper his blows with any restraint either.”
Kieran glanced away to wink at a comely lass and continued to search the hall for Madi. That she was petite made her easy to miss, but she could not remain in her chamber all evening. “I thought you’d merely warn me not to humiliate him too badly,” he replied with a careless smirk.
Kieran was obviously in no mood to heed the wisdom of his words, but Garrick had invested far too much time and energy in tutoring him to allow him to fail. He knew precisely how to catch his attention and stepped close. “There’s talk of reviving the wings,” he confided.
Greatly intrigued, Kieran straightened to his full height. He took note of those gathered below one of the tapestries depicting an ancient flight and could barely contain his excitement. “It’s not just a legend then, such a contest is actually possible?” he asked.
Kieran had always been brash, a fault Cadell had tolerated if not encouraged, while Garrick had endeavored to rein in his charge’s youthful vigor. “Aye, it is possible, but at too great a risk.”
“And facing Egan with a broadsword poses none?” Kieran replied before breaking into another burst of chuckles.
As Ula joined them, she slid her arm around her son’s waist. She noted a lingering trace of perfume beneath the fresh scent of soap and immediately recognized its source. While she heartily disapproved of Fiona, the day had gone too well to dwell upon a brief liaison with an unsuitable companion. She had raised Kieran with an eye to the crown, but had never lost sight of the value of an occasional indulgence.
“Bets are being placed on the manner of the next contest,” she revealed. “We must appear to give credence to all suggestions, even the absurd notion of wings, but let us confer in my chamber later to weigh the value of each possibility and make the wisest choice.”
“I’ll listen with a keen ear as always, Mother, but I’m betting with my life, and the choice will be mine alone.”
Ula’s cheeks colored with fury as Kieran left them to study the tapestries on his own. “How dare he speak to me in such a disrespectful fashion?” she hissed.
Feigning tranquility, Garrick guided her toward the hearth, where he intended to ply her with wine. “You must not allow a frown to cross your brow, my lady,” he chided. “The secret of the wings has been lost, and even if Kieran is so foolish as to choose it, after a few bungling attempts to revive the art, he’ll realize his mistake. Then he’ll come begging for our sage counsel.”
“You’re overlooking the rip in Egan’s side,” Ula responded sullenly. “He’ll be unlikely to pose a threat in any manner of challenge, but there will be no excuse for a careless choice.”
“I agree, my lady,” Garrick assured her, but he refused to underestimate Egan.
Skell circled his lovely daughter. Her gown was deep blue, and with her black hair and fair skin, the effect was magnificent. “You are the most beautiful young woman in all the Dál Cais. Now come with me to the great hall, and all the men will compete to impress you. What does it matter that Kieran is behaving badly? Once he is named king, he’ll value you highly as a bride.”
Longing to be valued now, Madi’s lips were set in a childlike pout. She had always loved Kieran, and the dashing young man had been enough in himself, but she was newly intrigued by the prospect of becoming his queen.
“What if he should lose the challenge?” she asked petulantly. “Will you be so eager to have me wed him then?”
Skell paused at the doorway to give her question the consideration it deserved. Because Kieran would most likely be dead if he lost to Egan, he could see only one real possibility. “Egan is also handsome. Have you never harbored amorous feelings for him?”
