Fyskar

Chapter 18

Seonaid and Fearchar's heads spun into the inky blackness.

"Ye bloody well could'a died, ye eejit!" Fearchar screamed at his employer.

Eoin snorted. "You think that was a one-time occurrence." He smiled sardonically.

"You did that again!" Seonaid protested.

"I've lost count of how many times I've had to taste the prince's food and lost consciousness. You might not know it, but I take most of what I've got in that box back there to make sure I can survive his feasts when I return. Reason why I carry a poison and antidote pack on my person." He relaxed onto a stool, feeling better.

"How long have you been with Mirza?" Seonaid eased onto the other stool.

"It is, as of Hogmanay, 1693. I took four months to travel from the prince's kingdom in Persia to get here. I'm not sure if these seven months count, though the bracers are still here, so..." He held the bracers up to contemplate the gleaming gems. "The Daleroch massacred my people in mid-spring of 1682. Callum and Albin were born during the last vestiges of winter or early spring of that year. So, I guess they're about ten years of age, then?

"The children are reaching into manhood. The prince released me to come back for them. They had lost their bottom teeth when Egret Nest was destroyed. I've been with the prince for five, six years now?" A soft smile trailed across his lips. Images flashed around them of the children now growing taller, learning to fly a massive golden eagle.

The prince took him into the royal aviary and discovered his ability with the birds of prey. Fascinated with this knowledge, the royal had taken Eoin on hunting trips, gradually eking out methodologies from his physician. With a bit of prodding, and to the consternation of his father and brothers, Mirza convinced Eoin that the physician should have his own bird for the hunting parties. His physician had been sceptical of the royal's ambitious interest.

"Your technique with the birds, my little White Bird. You do not see yourself, do you? They obey you. Is it not that you controlled the creatures in your past life that you gained the name White Bird? I have yet to see lightning from you, but the eagles obey you like you were born in their nest.

"Go. Fetch one and raise it in the aviary. I wish you to fly with me." Mirza stood in the shade of an alcove, fingers keeping up with his spoken words as he talked with Eoin. Several men of similar features and garb to the prince stood across the courtyard, watched the interchange, and chuckled amongst themselves.

Eoin dropped his focus to the carefully embroidered silver and green leather shoes so close to his own simple brown leather wraps. Prince? I must refuse. It's not my place in the palace, and to keep a bird is for the royalty.

"And yet your technique puts to shame the rules. It would be a waste of talent and good sport not to have you join our hunts with your brethren." Mirza's manicured nails and lotioned hands flowed through signs with minor stops and stutters.

Eoin tucked into a corner of the alcove to avoid Mirza's brothers. They aren't going to be happy about this.

"They have no say over you. They would face His Highness's wrath if they ever did. That is the protection of the name of Niloofar. My father has given his blessing, and I want to fly with you. Get yourself a bird. It's the time for hatching. Take the week. I will have supplies furnished for you to go find yourself a nest. Bring back a bird." Mirza's demands were clear by the rigidity in his shoulders.

Why is this important? I fix your lust and make your stomach stop hurting. An eagle is not essential to my position here.

Mirza twisted to cast an eye over his shoulders at his brother while he kept his hands hidden from them. Then count this toward my lust. I like watching you, and this gives me an opportunity outside of my rooms.