Page 28 of Princess of Elm (Warriors of the Fianna #4)
C ormac handily bested Cairell in the first round of wrestling, and then his brother in the second.
It didn’t shock him in the least, for he’d bested them numerous times over the course of the games already.
His fate with Astrid was of far greater concern to him than his opponents in the tournament.
He was terrified that she would deem him just as inadequate as his father had.
He hoped that she’d choose him because she actually loved him, and not because he was the best option she had at present.
Halfway through slamming Teague into the muddy ground, he realized the entire affair was out of his hands.
He’d moved his pieces on the board and now he awaited her decision.
When all the matches had finished, Sitric called the men over to where he and Astrid, along with Sláine and Gormla, sat on the sidelines.
“It seems we have finally run out of ale!” he shouted, pausing while the crowd roared in laughter. “And as you all know by now, that means it’s time for our games to be at their end.
“First and foremost, I would like to thank you all for making this such an enjoyable Jól holiday season.”
A round of applause followed that, and many in the crowd mirrored the king’s sentiments.
“I would also like to thank you for traveling so far and fighting so hard to win my sister’s hand in marriage. Unfortunately, I can only marry her off once, but each and every one of you deserves a happy life with a beautiful wife for your efforts.”
Another round of applause and shouts of agreement rippled through the crowd.
“For this tournament and this wife, I have decided upon the victor. Cormac O’Conor, champion and foster son of King Brian Boru of Mumhain, son of King Cahill of Connachta, congratulations on your victory.”
Cormac’s head spun. It took several moments for Sitric’s statement to sink in and become rational thought. In front of Cormac, the Fianna cheered louder than anyone else. They made a ruckus that shook the heavens, but Cormac couldn’t celebrate. Not just yet.
For it was no victory at all if it didn’t come with Astrid.
He could hardly breathe as he watched her walk across the field.
When her eyes met his, a smile brightened her face.
He didn’t know what to expect; his skin tingling like the pricks of a thousand needles.
When she reached him, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace that elicited another round of cheers from the Fianna and from a good many of the onlookers in the crowd, too.
“A well-earned victory,” she congratulated him softly. Pulling away, she cupped his face between her hands, running her thumbs over his cheeks. “I will marry you, and I am so sorry that I didn’t say as much yesterday.”
Cormac’s cheeks stretched across his face, completely beyond his control.
She loved him. She actually loved him.
He knew her well enough now to know that she wouldn’t have agreed if she didn’t really want him. Astrid never had trouble standing up for herself and speaking her mind.
She pulled his face to hers, kissing him like no one else was there. Her lips pressed hard against his as her arms entwined around his neck. Cormac drank her in, running his hand through her silky red hair.
Cheers rippled through the crowd, only this time the raucous didn’t bother Cormac in the least. If his lips weren’t otherwise occupied, he’d have cheered right along with them. Because he’d won the heart of the woman he loved, and that was worth celebrating.
“Congratulations!” Cahill shouted over the noise of the crowd. “What a fine showing, and what a well-earned victory indeed!” He stepped forward, so that he stood halfway between Sitric and Cormac, looking between the two of them as he spoke.
Cahill’s suspicious behavior set Cormac on edge. His father had hoped for an alliance, by marriage if necessary, and he wasn’t getting one now. Why was he putting on such a good-natured show?
“Thank you,” Cormac answered him. “It was well-done by all.”
“You’ll be married soon, I imagine?” Cahill asked. “A wedding seems the perfect ending to the Jól festivities.”
“We hadn’t—” Astrid began, but Sitric strode over to take up the conversation.
“I agree, it would be perfect. What say you, sister, shall we end the tournament with a wedding?”
“You’ll have to wait a few days, won’t you?” Cahill turned to Sitric. “For the family to arrive.”
“Why are you being so nice?” Astrid asked, stealing the words from Cormac’s mind.
He’d never ask them aloud, of course, but he appreciated her boldness.
“Astrid,” Sitric tsked. “Cahill has been nothing but pleasant this past month.”
Astrid didn’t look the least bit remorseful, still glaring openly at Cahill.
“I am grateful to have had the opportunity to meet with my sons again,” Cahill told her. “I hope that this tournament has gotten us started on the path to a better relationship.”
That was absolute drivel, and yet it made Cormac’s chest swell with hope. He had no love lost for his father after all these years, but it would be good to put the past behind them.
“A midwinter wedding it is!” Sitric declared. “I’ll send a messenger to Caiseal to inform Brian and Dunla. I’m certain they’ll want to attend.”
Cormac couldn’t help but smile at that. “Aye, they certainly will.”
Even after exchanging something dangerously close to a pleasant conversation with his father, Cormac couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. As they walked back to Sitric’s holding, he chewed on his worries until he’d narrowed it down to the wedding.
More likely than not, he was anxious at the prospect of a wedding where his father and Brian were both guests. The last one had not gone well at all.
Aye, that was it, he decided. It was just his own nerves threatening to get the better of him. Putting the matter to rest, he pulled Astrid into a hug while they walked.
This was everything he had worked for, more than he had hoped for, even. How could he be so lucky? He squeezed her tighter against him, letting his cheek rest on the top of her head and forgetting that the rest of the world existed. Now that he had Astrid, what could possibly go wrong?