Page 34 of Princess of Elm (Warriors of the Fianna #4)

T he following night Sitric hosted a wedding feast that Cormac would remember for the rest of his life.

He and Astrid were to be wed in the Ostman tradition, as it was important to her and he didn’t have strong feelings on the manner of the marriage.

In truth, he’d never attended an Ostman ceremony and was excited at the idea.

The tables in the hall were laden with the most decadent feast Cormac had seen yet: roast ox, buttered carrots, honeyed salmon, a hearty stew, fresh oat bread, and a dessert made of spiced apple preserves and ground hazelnuts. And, of course, enough mead, ale, and wine to drown them all.

He stood with Astrid in the center of the hall, holding her hands before the roaring hearthfire, and wondering how he could be so lucky. Conan stood behind him as his groomsman. Eva took up the post of bridesmaid beside Astrid.

And Astrid stole the breath from his lungs.

She wore an apron tunic of brightest blue, hung with strands of gems in every color. On her arms were golden bands she’d earned throughout her life, most gifted to her by her brother, he later learned. And on her face she wore the smile that had captivated him from the start.

They swore their oaths to one another, invoking the goddess Vár, who safeguards the oaths between men and women. Finn, Dallan, and his brothers all worked with him to write an oath appropriate to the ceremony, though it still took all his effort not to let his nerves get the better of him.

Once they were oathsworn, Conan passed him a ring of brass keys to gift her and a delicate golden armband he’d bought for her. She tied the keys to her belt, then took off all her other armbands. Cormac slid the gift over her slender wrist and up past her elbow until it fit snugly.

Astrid took a similar golden armband from Eva, placing it on Cormac’s arm in return.

“Kiss her!” Someone shouted from the men’s table. Cormac guessed it was Diarmid, but couldn’t be sure. He had trouble taking his eyes off his wife.

The rest of their guests clamored in agreement to the suggestion, which worked just fine for Cormac. He planned to kiss his wife as often as possible, and this seemed as good a time as ever to start.

Unable to keep a grin off his face, he kissed her until they were both laughing, until the cheers of the crowd faded into the distance.

Until she knew, without a doubt, that she was home.

*

The next weeks were bliss. Astrid and Cormac stayed in Dyflin for a fortnight following the wedding so that they could spend time together before Cormac had to leave on another mission for Brian.

Sitric gave them use of one of the guest houses, and Astrid was happy to spend most of their days in there working toward those children she’d always wanted.

When they left, they went to Cenn Cora, the Fianna’s fortress in the far west of Mumhain. Astrid hadn’t realized that they didn’t live in Caiseal, and she was pleased when Cormac told her Cenn Cora was near to Luimneach—a settlement with many Ostmen, much like Dyflin.

The fortress at Cenn Cora sat upon a wooded hillside, with a sleepy lake hugging the valley below.

Though they were an hour’s ride from the sea, the presence of a large lake comforted Astrid.

Patchwork farm fields and a smattering of cottages dotted the surrounding countryside.

She hadn’t imagined a place could be so peaceful.

They rode up the hill and through the palisade to the courtyard, stuffed to bursting with well-wishers waiting to greet them. Eva and Finn. Niamh and Dallan. Cara and Diarmid. Conan pulled them into a warm hug as well, followed closely by Illadan.

“I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Ethlinn,” he said, gesturing to a tall, beautiful brunette standing beside him. “She’s Finn’s sister.”

“And our daughter.” A woman of a size with Ethlinn stepped forward, smiling. She was older, with greying braids falling about her shoulders, delicate features, and sharp gaze.

“We hear you come from Dyflin.” A man taller than most of the Fianna stepped up beside the woman, with a grey beard and a wild smile. “I’m Ulf Thorsson. This is my wife, Elan.”

It took Astrid a moment to realize he’d spoken in Norr?na . She knew that Finn’s father was an Ostman, but she hadn’t expected to move somewhere with so many of her kinsmen, and so many folk who spoke the language besides. Something embarrassingly close to tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

Beside her, Cormac squeezed her hand. “They have kin in Luimneach,” he told her, also speaking the language. His grasp of it had grown much in the weeks since he began learning.

“My brother would love to meet an Ostman princess,” Ulf said cheerily. “Arne travels much and has many tales to tell. We will visit him when the men leave again.”

“I would like that very much,” she replied in the same tongue, fighting those damned tears. “Thank you.”

As Cormac led Astrid to their quarters in the keep, she couldn’t help but marvel at the irony of it all. She’d married a Gael. She’d moved to the heart of éire.

And somehow, she’d ended up exactly where she belonged.