Page 6 of Princess of Elm (Warriors of the Fianna #4)

T hat woman was trying to kill him. No, not woman.

That felt far too generous a term for the infuriating, conniving, irrational creature who insisted on following him about and thwarting his every move.

Loudly. Like one of those shrieking creatures from the stories that Cara so loved. What were they called?

Ah, yes.

That harpy was trying to kill him.

The warm bath waters felt incredible. The luxury of a hot bath, unshared with his companions, did not go beyond Cormac’s notice.

The harpy might be intent on shutting down the marriage negotiations, but it impressed him that her bitterness didn’t impact her hospitality.

If you could call constant confrontation hospitality, that was.

Cormac had already stayed in Dyflin for over a fortnight before they’d traveled to Caiseal and back, so he’d grown accustomed to Astrid’s antics.

For whatever reason, he served as her main target, though he and Illadan shared leadership of the Fianna with Broccan.

It was a pity her temperament matched her fiery locks, for Cormac always held a weakness for red-haired beauties.

He needed to speak with Sitric privately, before his sister could poison his thoughts further. The King of Dyflin was a reasonable man, though capricious. If Cormac could explain the situation calmly and privately, ’twould be easily resolved.

Though the steaming water tempted him to linger, Cormac hurried to wash and dress so that he could hunt down Sitric before Astrid did.

All of his men enjoyed their time in the Ostman settlement, the games plenty and their cares few.

But Cormac could never truly relax, knowing that he need but step around the next corner and the red-haired devil would accost him.

She didn’t intimidate him as much as she unnerved him.

More than anything, Cormac hated losing control of his sensibilities—a thing that happened nearly every time he encountered her.

After his bath, Cormac found Sitric in the family hall, speaking with his mother and sister.

The king’s holding in Dyflin consisted of a scattering of buildings ringed by a tall wooden fence and gate.

Two halls, one for the family and one for guests, stood proudly in the center of the enclosure.

Stables, kitchens, servants’ quarters, and the like lay beyond the halls.

The two halls were identical in design, each consisting of a long rectangular room flanked by individual rooms on the two longest sides.

Doors took up the two shorter walls, and a hearth crackled night and day in the center of the hall.

Pillow-covered chairs and benches formed seating areas, neatly tucked into each corner and littered with furs and blankets.

Trestle tables and benches filled the rest of the space.

In one of the cozy corners of the family hall, Cormac interrupted a lively conversation between Sitric’s family. “Apologies for the intrusion,” he began, looking to Sitric, “but I’d like to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”

With a sharp look in Astrid’s direction, Sitric rose, his smile smaller than it had been when they’d first arrived. “Of course. Let us find a quiet space.”

Out the back of the hall, they hurried through the pouring rain and into a small building that served as Sitric’s study.

Though modest in size, the lush fabrics draped over chairs and the crackling braziers gave it the same comforting quality as the halls.

Cormac waited for Sitric to sit, then took his place in the seat opposite.

Reclining in leisure, Sitric assessed him from afar before breaking the silence.

“I know what you would say.”

“Aye, you do,” Cormac agreed. “But I know not your thoughts.”

With measured words, Sitric turned to him. “I understand that Brian wants me wed to a bride from his kingdom. But I don’t want either of the ones he’s sent.”

Cormac nodded, playing the part of the sympathetic friend. And, for Cormac’s part, it wasn’t entirely an act. “He’s concerned that you intend to break the truce.”

“I have no such intentions,” Sitric asserted. “But sending me the choice of a pup or his own daughter—tell me you see the manipulation, Cormac.”

“Many a king has asked for Sláine’s hand. A man could do worse than become a son of Brian Boru. Perhaps he intended it as a sign of respect, an invitation to become family.”

“Or he trusts me so little that he must leash me like one of his hounds,” Sitric shot him an apologetic grimace. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken. The Hound of the Ulaid was one of the fiercest warriors in all éire. To be likened to him is an honor.”

Sitric’s chuckle gave Cormac hope, but his words quickly dashed it. “My oath is not enough for him, so he must shackle me into obedience. For how could I make war on my wife’s kin?”

“Easily, as it turns out.” Cormac couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “Brian wed my sister when I was no older than Catrin, yet both continue to invade one another. Believe me, Brian knows better than any man how little the bonds of kinship can dissuade violence, for either party.”

“Then why give the illusion of choice?” Sitric groaned. “If it was meant as a gesture of friendship, why not send only Sláine?”

Damn. Sitric had him there. “I speak only what I see,” Cormac told him. “His intentions are as unknown to me as they are you.”

“Astrid remains bitter over our defeat last winter,” Sitric began, surprising Cormac, “yet it is hard to deny the truth of her words.”

Of course. Cormac sat perfectly still, giving no outward sign of his feelings on the topic.

Inside, he wanted to hit the training yard with Conan.

Of course she’d wasted no time in turning her brother against them.

Brian should find a way to recruit her to their cause and sic her upon his other foes.

Cormac had no doubt she’d wear them down.

“And what are her words?” Cormac asked evenly. He’d mastered any outbursts of temper long ago. Except, apparently, where Astrid was concerned.

Sitric looked upward, then spoke as though recounting her phrasing exactly.

“It’s bad enough that we’ve spent this long entertaining Brian’s hounds.

The last thing you should do is join them.

” He laughed. “She also told me that should I marry either woman, I will be little more than a puppet to a king gone mad with ambition. Oh, and—my personal favorite—submitting to his demands will rob me of what honor I have left after that horrendous routing.”

“That sounds about right.” Cormac smiled, deliberately making light of her words. “And you believe her?”

“I believe she’s correct, that it isn’t really a choice and that nothing about it bodes well for me or my kingdom. But, it was her solution that caught my attention.”

Cormac sat up straighter. “She proposed a solution?”

“Aye. She thought I might find a suitable bride of my choosing, to marry with Brian’s approval.”

It wasn’t terrible, Cormac had to admit, but it wasn’t the mission. He’d sworn to Brian to see Sitric wed Sláine, and he wasn’t leaving Dyflin until he fulfilled his oath.

“Your silence concerns me,” Sitric remarked. “You don’t think it’s a good plan? Either that, or you are withholding information from me.”

Cormac sighed. He hated threatening people, especially people he’d come to consider friends. “He made it clear that should neither woman be chosen, the treaty would be void.”

Sitric’s grin fell from his face. “I remain undecided.”

And Cormac remained unsurprised. “Take your time,” he offered. “It’s an important decision, and I’ve no desire to travel again until the weather improves.”

Brian hadn’t given the mission a time limit, so Cormac held no concern on that front. Nay, his concerns about staying rested solely on how long he could survive the harassment of a certain redheaded princess.