“No, but then I eat scraps from the kitchen, rather than dine at his table.”
“So, you do believe that he was poisoned,” Albyn observed.
“I’ve accused no one!” Quill sent an apprehensive glance toward the door, but feared Albyn would surely block his way if he tried to flee. He felt trapped, and hoping to escape, pointed out the obvious. “If someone did poison Cadell, it wouldn’t have been in the great hall where others would have witnessed the deed.”
“Of course not,” Albyn agreed. “But you have no suspicions?”
Again, Quill looked away quickly. He did indeed harbor a few dangerous thoughts, but so did many others at the fortress. His life had been good there, however, and he wanted it to continue in the same fashion. But he did feel he owed Cadell more than strained silence.
“I wrote a song for Cadell that he cautioned me to sing only for him,” Quill reluctantly revealed. “It was of Adelaine, whom he had adored. Often in the evenings, he would pretend to listen as Ula spoke at length on whatever caught her fancy, but his gaze was filled with the same longing as when I sang of his beloved Adelaine.”
That Cadell still dreamed of Adelaine was a valuable piece of information, and Albyn doubted he would get more from the unkempt bard. He reached to open his door. “I look forward to hearing your new verses tonight, Quill. If you should think of something more, whether it be a casual comment you overhear, or a careless gesture that brings to mind something important, come straight to me. I’ll find a way to reward you, and I’ll not reveal the source.”
Quill nodded, but he wanted no part in talk of murder and vowed to keep the rest of his thoughts to himself.
Albyn knew he might lack Cadell’s wisdom, but he was smart enough to recognize how easily Ula could have poisoned her husband. She was a demanding woman, and it must have torn at her heart to have had to vie with the memory of a dead woman for her husband’s affections. She had ample opportunity to be alone with Cadell, and his untimely death would not have diminished her circumstances in the slightest.
He knew precisely where she would have gotten a villainous brew: from Garrick, who never strayed far from her side. Albyn had no interest in mixing potions himself, but many Druids took great pleasure in creating everything from love charms to poisons for the damned, and he considered it likely that Garrick was such a man.
An old Druid had died. Had that merely been a test, or a mistake in dosage? Ula could have sampled the potion rather than feign an illness, and then when Cadell cared for her, given him a lethal dos
e. It was a horrible possibility that completely sickened him, but if a fine man like Cadell had been murdered, he deserved to be avenged.
Depressed by the fortress and its dark intrigues, Albyn left for a long stroll along the sea. He welcomed the change of scene and the tiring exercise, but not the first faint chill of winter in the air.
When he returned to Egan’s chamber and found it empty, he panicked and raced down the corridor to find Oriana. She answered his knock promptly, but then raised a fingertip to her lips to plead for silence. Gazing past her to the bed, Albyn was so relieved by how peacefully Egan was sleeping that he wanted to shout.
Unwilling to disturb Egan, he drew Oriana out into the corridor. “I’m surprised Egan got this far on his own,” he said, “but this is where he belongs.”
“None of us belongs in this dreadful place,” Oriana countered, and she hugged her arms against the perpetual chill. “I long for the peace of the forest.”
“The forest is a cold and forbidding place in winter,” Albyn said, recalling it from bitter experience. “You’ll be far more comfortable here.”
“If we are here,” Oriana whispered apprehensively.
The sadness in her eyes tugged at his heart, but she was not his woman to comfort. To avoid that temptation, he folded his hands behind his back. “I’ve never known Egan to fail.”
“You are a true friend to have such unshakable faith in him, but he’s never tried to fly, has he?”
“He’ll fly. There are a great many on his side, and we’ll make certain he has the superior wing and the better flight.”
“I know you’ll try, but I’m still sick with worry. I’ve never cared for autumn,” she confided. “With Samhain, winter begins with its freezing rains. Families gather around their hearth to reminisce or plan for long summer days, but it’s a trying time for wanderers.”
That she had yet to accept how greatly her life had changed puzzled Albyn. “The queen of the Dál Cais doesn’t wander,” he reminded her.
Oriana paused to look in on Egan before she replied. “I can’t think of myself as queen when nothing has gone well for Egan since the afternoon we met. Should he win the challenge and become king, I fear another calamity will swiftly befall him. And then another and another until he throws me from the wall walk just as—”
Horrified by the image that had flashed in her mind’s eye, Oriana sagged back against the doorway. She had never met Cadell, but it had been his name she had nearly spoken.
“Forgive me,” she begged, and in a rush to escape him, she turned toward her chamber.
“No, wait.” Albyn reached out to catch her arm. “Are you thinking of Adelaine? If she didn’t fall to her death, then who killed her?”
Oriana was now desperate to avoid him. “I’m tired. I’ve not slept well, and you mustn’t give my wild ravings any credence.
“Egan will surely be hungry when he wakes,” she hastened to suggest. “Please send a servant with food for him. Then find Yowan and determine what progress he’s made today. He needn’t come here to speak with Egan himself. You can convey his report on the morrow.”
They had talked easily for a short while, and Albyn was sorry she had become so anxious to be rid of him. “It must be very difficult for you when disturbing thoughts of others intrude so unexpectedly,” he mused aloud.