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Rather than release her, Kieran wound a hand in her hair and bent her head back for a bruising kiss. He punished her with his lips until she was breathless. Then he strode off the bluff intent upon finding Fiona, who would welcome him with gentle laughter and eager kisses rather than tedious arguments over pride.
Albyn had set out early in the day to speak to Quill, but he was unable to find anyone who could actually swear to having seen the bard in the bailey that morning. When he finally found the poet asleep in the stable, he had to bend down and shake him awake.
Quill yawned and stretched, but as he took in his unexpected surroundings, he could not imagine why he had spent the night with the horses. He only dimly recalled a buxom lass who had begged him to sing after they had made love, but doubted he had bedded her there.
His harp lay at his side with nary a string broken, but his clothes were wrinkled, and one foot was bare. He rose shakily, and after waving Albyn aside, searched for his missing shoe. When at last he found it buried beneath the straw, he slipped it on and carried his harp out into the sunlit afternoon. He smelled more like a horse than he cared to, but with the fortress so crowded, he thought he would be lucky to find a bucket in which to bathe.
“I’ve need of you, Quill,” Albyn confided.
The name rang with a painful echo in the bard’s head, and he raised a hand to plead for silence. “It matters not at all what you need, Druid. It is an inopportune time.”
Albyn rested his hands on his hips. Quill appeared to be a few years older than he, but that might have been due to a hard night that had left his fair hair tangled, his face puffy, and his eyes bloodshot and weary.
“My name is Albyn. I’ve not seen you so disheveled. I’ll walk you to your chamber, and we’ll talk while you prepare for the evening.”
“The two of us won’t fit in my humble chamber. Indeed, I can barely turn around when alone.” He covered a wide yawn and shoved his hair out of his eyes. A man of medium height, he had to squint to avoid the sun’s glare as he looked up at Albyn.
Albyn gestured broadly. “Then you must come to mine. While modest, there is ample room for the discussion I require.”
Puzzled, Quill frowned unhappily. “Is this about the lass? If you want her, we’ll have no quarrel. She is yours.”
Albyn had to laugh. “The lass I want would not leave me at risk of being trampled while I slept. Now come along.”
“Is it a song you want?” Quill asked as they climbed the stairs.
Albyn waited until they had entered his chamber to answer. Its size was more suitable to the lad he had been, but it was still adequate for his needs. “I want more than music. Sit on the bed if you like,” he invited. “You’ll find it far softer than the straw clinging to your hair.”
Quill sank down on the bed, and then had to fight the temptation to stretch out upon it. He felt stiff and sore. Worse yet, the gap in his memory made him wonder if he would even recognize last night’s companion when she next appeared. Because he greeted every pretty lass with a smile, he hoped he would not offend her.
Albyn leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “Your rhymes are clever and everyone is humming your tunes. How long have you been here?”
Quill was far too smart not to recognize a compliment often preceded a curse, but he bowed his head as though he were extremely flattered. “I’m pleased you appreciate my talents. This will be my fourth winter at the fortress.”
“Good. You’re present at most gatherings. I’d like you to recall the time before Cadell fell ill. Were there any unusual visitors? Had he settled any violent disputes? Had he been involved in any bitter arguments himself? What of Ula? What was her mood this last summer?”
Quill came fully alert. He listened attentively to each of Albyn’s questions and grew increasingly frightened by their direction. “What are you seeking?” he blurted out.
“The truth. What do you recall?”
Quill clutched his harp tightly on his lap. “Cadell heard all manner of disputes, some serious, some silly. Most involved stray cattle or lambs whose ownership was questioned. One man accused another of seducing his wife. But Cadell always listened to each complaint with a thoughtful frown, and he settled every argument with admirable wisdom.”
“What did he do with the unfaithful wife?”
“The couple had no children, so he advised her to divorce her husband and return to her father. The husband was glad to be rid of her, and the second man eager to pursue her. All were happy.”
“Aye, Cadell created remarkably peaceful times,” Albyn murmured thoughtfully.
“Prosperous as well,” Quill added, but his glance quickly shifted toward the floor.
“Speak. It will go no further,” Albyn encouraged.
“Do you take me for a fool? You are Egan’s friend.” In a flash Quill’s expression filled with dismay. “Did I sleep right through the final challenge?”
“Nay, wings are being built so that Kieran and Egan may fly on the eve of Samhain.”
Quill could barely contain himself then, and his fingers played nervously over his harp. “They mean to fly? Then I’ve verses to compose and must go.”
Albyn just shook his head. “I heard that along with Cadell, many fell ill. Were you among them?”
