Page 29 of Princess of Elm (Warriors of the Fianna #4)

A sennight later, Brian was due in Dyflin and Cahill had overstayed his welcome.

Unfortunately, neither could be changed.

Cahill stayed for his son’s wedding, a privilege no one could argue over.

And she couldn’t avoid Brian forever. She knew all along that she would have to face the reality of marrying a man sworn to Brian.

She understood that would be the next bridge for her to cross.

She had simply not anticipated facing it so soon.

Knowing that Brian could arrive at any time created tension for Cormac and his brothers, who worried over what might transpire between him and Cahill. They’d formed something of a truce with Teague, who appeared interested in getting to know the three brothers he’d left behind in childhood.

Astrid hardly spent a moment apart from Cormac. Even when he trained with the Fianna, she would sit beside Niamh and Cara to watch the men spar in the field they’d taken over for their training. Catrin joined them once or twice, now that it was clear Sitric favored Sláine for his wife.

Late one fog-filled morning, Brian arrived with an entourage fit for a king.

Looking upon the line of horses and carriages and carts that made up the king’s retinue, Astrid wondered if he’d brought the whole of Caiseal with him.

Even at his advanced age, Brian rode atop his horse instead of inside the carriages which bore some of the women of the court.

On horseback beside him was a young man—a boy, really—whom Astrid didn’t recognize.

His hair was cut short, not even reaching his shoulders.

He had pale brown locks and a thin, though not displeasing, face.

Just as Astrid wondered who the boy might be, her mother shot like an arrow from a bow straight toward him.

Astrid chuckled aloud at the look of horror on Brian’s face when Gormla charged them, but it was gone as quick as it came, softening when he realized where she was headed.

The boy must be Astrid’s half-brother, Duncan.

Her mother had seen Duncan many times since she’d left Caiseal all those years ago.

Even Sitric had met him on the occasions when he’d gone to visit Brian, but Astrid had never made that particular journey and therefore had not yet met her brother, who must be at least fourteen summers.

Duncan beamed at their mother, hopping off his horse and straight into her waiting arms. The two of them bent their heads together like a pair of thieves, ready to go sneaking off.

Without even sparing a glance at Brian or any of the other guests, Gormla whisked young Duncan off to the feasting hall.

The only words that Astrid caught of their conversation involved bread and ships.

The doors on the first carriage opened and a tall woman, thin with dark hair and a round face, stepped out. She wore a regal dress of red and gold, leading Astrid to believe that she must be Queen Dunla, Brian’s most recent wife and Cormac’s elder sister.

After Dunla, a woman Astrid hadn’t dared expect to see alighted from the carriage—her cousin Eva. All sense of propriety fled. Astrid and Eva squealed like children, rushing toward one another and embracing.

“Are you trying to steal my wife?” Finn teased, waiting patiently for Astrid to release Eva into his waiting arms.

“She’s always been mine, bard,” Astrid shot back with a smile. “I knew her first.”

“Aye, but I know her better.”

Eva blushed bright pink, smacking Finn on the arm and shaking her head.

“I see that I’m all but forgotten now.” Dallan walked over pulling his sister into a gentle hug and releasing her. “You look well,” he smiled. “The journey must have agreed with you.”

Eva worried her bottom lip. Everyone stared at her, and the longer they waited for an answer, the more Astrid suspected that her cousin had a secret.

“Eva,” Astrid demanded.

“I need to speak with Niamh first,” she blurted out.

“Wait.” Finn placed a hand on her shoulder, clearly putting it all together.

“You’re with child?” Dallan shouted.

Astrid couldn’t tell if he was shocked, happy, or horrified. Likely he was all of those and then some.

Eva couldn’t keep the smile off her face or the glow off her cheeks. “I think so,” she laughed. “Either that or I’m dying. I’ve hardly been able to keep anything down for weeks now.”

Finn fell straight into the role of protector. Before Astrid could even congratulate her cousin, Finn took Eva’s hand and started hauling her toward Niamh. “Let’s go get you some herbs. Niamh will know what to do. Niamh!”

They all had a good laugh at Finn’s antics and the excitement of a baby.

It occurred to Astrid then that now that she was marrying Cormac, she’d be able to see her cousins regularly.

She’d be there for the birth of Eva’s child.

One day, perhaps, their children would play together.

Smiling to herself at that happy thought, Astrid helped everyone settle into their guest rooms before heading to the hall to discuss the terms of the betrothal.

It was the part of the wedding she looked forward to least, as it provided the greatest opportunity for something to go wrong.

Astrid entered the feasting hall to find Cormac, Brian, Dunla, and Sitric waiting.

Cormac introduced her to Dunla, a warm, likeable woman with poise and a quiet sort of strength.

Astrid could tell from the few words they shared and the way she carried herself that it took a great deal to shake the Queen of Mumhain.

She reminded Astrid of Cormac in that way.

They had just sat down to begin when the doors opened and Cahill entered the hall.

Brian stood right back up, his face outraged. “What’s he doing here?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t be a part of my own son’s marriage contract?”

Oh, Gods. Astrid felt in her bones that this would only get worse, but like a runaway horse with a cart, all she could do was watch.

“You disowned him fourteen years ago!” Brian shouted. “Now that there’s money involved, suddenly you’re his father again?”

“Is it true?” Sitric asked calmly, stepping in as mediator. “Did you disown him?”

“Publicly,” Cormac declared.

Astrid exhaled. There, that should put the matter to rest.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave, Cahill,” Sitric told him.

“You would side with him after all our discussions?” Cahill pressed.

Uh oh. Astrid’s pulse quickened. This was taking a very bad turn.

Brian turned on Sitric. “ Discussions ? Have you been meeting with this traitor behind my back?”

“No!” Sitric cried, glaring at Cahill. “He entered his son in the tournament we just held. That’s all.”

“That and our discussions of alliance.” Cahill took a step backward toward the door. “You were open to speaking of it, even if you weren’t ready to commit.” Turning on his heel, Cahill strode angrily from the hall, leaving chaos in his wake.

“You hosted my enemy,” Brian hissed. “You met with him to discuss an alliance, against me, no doubt. You allowed him the chance to make an alliance of marriage through his son.” The king’s face reddened more with each statement. “You are a traitor.”

“Take care with your words,” Sitric warned. “I will not stand to be called a traitor when I have betrayed no one.”

Everything was falling apart before her eyes—her greatest fears come to life.

Beside her, Cormac looked just as uncomfortable as she felt.

He stood, but didn’t interrupt. It wasn’t their place, and they both knew it.

This argument was between her brother and Brian, and nothing they said or did would end it until it had run its course.

“No?” Brian narrowed his furious eyes. “You allowed one of my greatest enemies to remain in your city when you knew I was coming here. How do I know this isn’t a trap set to rid you both of your shared burden of the King of Mumhain?”

Sitric’s fists came down on the table, sending the cups of ale clattering. “I will not be called traitor. I have hosted your men. I have given my hostage. I have given my oath. And I have sworn to marry your daughter. You will pay the honor price for slander.”

“I am finished coddling you like a child,” Brian growled. “Either you are my oathsworn or you are a traitor.”

“I already swore my oath!” Sitric roared. “And you continue to slander me, in public, no less. You owe me the honor price.”

“I’ll not be fined for telling the truth,” Brian countered, taking a dangerous step toward her brother.

Astrid shot from her seat. “Sitric!” she shouted, trying to get his attention. It was of no use.

His eyes fixed on Brian. “Then I demand an honor duel. We will know then who is telling the truth.”

“Sitric, this is madness!” Astrid cried. “There’s no need—”

“I accept your duel.”

This could not be happening. Curse these men and their inflated senses of honor and ego.

“Excellent,” Sitric replied more calmly. “Name your champion. I fight in my own stead, to prove to you the veracity of my claim.”

Brian turned toward Cormac, his intent clear.

Astrid forgot how to breathe. This could not be happening. It couldn’t.

Cormac grimaced, giving Astrid a pained look. “I will fight as his champion, as my oath demands.”