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Oriana’s close attention inspired Albyn to embellish his tale. “Now, the young woman who became our first queen is always described as a farmer’s daughter, who was not only lovely and fair, but quite strong. While our king used his ax to fell several trees, she gathered stones, and together they built a house that was remarkably sturdy. Despite the biting cold of the wind and rain, they passed a safe night in each other’s arms.
“It was such a splendid house, it is told, that the pair could not bear to leave it and so remained here in the valley. As they prospered, this fortress gradually grew up against the mountain. The wood of the original house rotted away, and the stones became part of our walls, but it is still remembered as a magnificent dwelling.”
“That is an entertaining story,” Oriana mused aloud, “but Garrick said only that we’d have to build a ‘proper shelter.’ He made no mention of our having to construct anything everyone would regard as magnificent.”
Albyn’s grin grew wide at the reminder. “I noted that too, and he can’t now insist that you build more than a sound shelter from the elements.”
“I still fear a trick,” Oriana complained.
“This is the eve of Samhain. At summer’s end, there is always drinking and feasting long into the night, but if Garrick dared to send someone out to harm you, they would also have to brave the treacherous weather on Mount Royal.”
Oriana recalled the thick fog that had made it so difficult to follow Egan into the fortress and refused to imagine what the night might bring. “He’d send Druids,” she proposed. “While they’d not dare use knives, they could attack us with stones, and try to shove us off the mountain. At dawn, those who found our broken bodies lying on the rocks would simply blame the mountain for our deaths, wouldn’t they?”
“Aye, they would, but I plan to keep watch at the gate,” Albyn promised. “This is a poor way to welcome the peace of Samhain.”
Egan brought the only peace Oriana had found in the forbidding fortress, but she had caused him far too much pain. Blinking away tears, she took the precaution of glancing up and down the corridor before she spoke.
“There is another choice. If I don’t wake Egan, he may sleep for hours. In that time, I could take both of the mares he’s given me and travel a very long way.”
Albyn had never met another woman with such a lively mind, nor with such distressing thoughts. “If you believe Egan would welcome your departure, you’re very badly mistaken. Even if it put his claim to rule at risk, he’d go after you. You’ll have to remain here and do all you can to prove yourself a worthy queen.”
Oriana did not even know where to begin such an arduous task. “I’ve survived on my wits, not by physical strength,” she countered. “And Egan has surely seen better days. I hate to put him through yet another trying ordeal when the people here may never accept me. It would be far better for me to leave him now than to risk turning his people against him.”
Albyn saw another truth in the shimmer of tears brightening her gaze. “How could you bear to leave him?”
Oriana closed her eyes briefly against the overwhelming pain. “It would break my heart, but I’ll not force him to choose between me and his people, for that would surely break his.”
“Then to spare him that anguish, you must help him build a sturdy shelter and pass the night safely. Take other clothing so no matter how wet and dirty you get, in the morning you’ll look your best.”
He was providing such practical advice, that despite the darkness of her mood, Oriana felt compelled to agree. “That’s an excellent idea. Thank you. We’ll need food, bread, smoked meat, cheese, apples, nuts, perhaps a skin of wine or ale. Can you arrange it?”
“Aye, it will be my pleasure to serve you.”
While Albyn’s comments were always respectful, the yearning in his gaze revealed the depth of his regard. She reached up to brush his cheek with a light kiss. “Another path would have led me to you,” she disclosed sweetly, “but we were meant for separate destinies. Thank you for reminding me of mine.”
She had returned to Egan’s chamber before an astonished Albyn could reply, but while inspired to do her bidding, he felt only a great emptiness rather than a welcome promise of love.
When Albyn returned with their supplies, Oriana gave Egan’s foot a playful shake. “It’s time to go, my love,” she coaxed.
Egan responded with a low moan and failed to stir.
Oriana sat down beside him and ran her hand over his back. “Garrick did not imagine that I’ve constructed all manner of snug shelters. You’ve seen for yourself what a fine tent I raise.”
That unlikely boast was enough to startle Egan from his stupor, and he sat up meaning to grab his bride, but he saw Albyn by the door and contained his enthusiasm. “Aye, we are indeed fortunate that you’ve fashioned a tent or two. What do you have there?”
Oriana had already transferred the provisions to her travel bag, and pulled it open to display the contents. “Food, so we’ll not go hungry, and a change of clothes for each of us. People are so easily fooled by a fine appearance, and after a night on the mountain, we might need to improve ours.”
Egan rose to his feet, and taking care not to move too quickly, he yawned and stretched his arms wide. “Has any man ever had a finer wife?” he asked Albyn.
Albyn made no pretense at indifference. “Nay, she is a fine queen by any standard. Now let’s be away, so that darkness doesn’t arrive before we do.”
“I believe my tent is still in the stable. It would be good to sleep on if we don’t need it for anything else.”
Egan grabbed his cloak. “I’ll need my knife, an ax…. What else, Albyn?”
The pair were conversing easily, as though they were planning an afternoon outing rather than an adventure that carried considerable risk. “Nothing, when the ax will also serve as a shovel. Find a place where the rock is loose and dig a cave. It will not be elegant, but it will at least keep you dry.”
“What about flint for a fire?” Oriana added, and she moved toward the door.
