Chapter Thirty-Eight
Diarmid, Cormac, Finn, and Illadan rode hard out of Dyflin the following day, heading for Brian’s fortress at Caiseal. Diarmid had spent the entire day in that cabin with Cara. An entire, incredible day. It had been nothing short of a gift, and he would always treasure it as such. He’d helped her improve her skills at knucklebones through powerful motivation, a learning method that had proved both fun and effective.
When they stopped to water their horses and take a small meal of waybread and salted pork, Diarmid went out of his way to catch Cormac alone. He’d made amends with Sitric. He was en route to make amends with Brian, hoping this wouldn’t cost him his place among the Fianna. But Cormac had hardly spoken a word to him since they’d sat together at The Broken Oar. And after having his brother in his life, Diarmid refused to give up on him.
“You’ll have to speak to me eventually,” he said, handing Cormac a waterskin. “I’d prefer it was sooner rather than later, if it’s all the same to you.”
His brother’s dark look told Diarmid a humorous approach was not the way to go. “I’m sorry that I let you down,” Diarmid tried again, this time aiming for honesty. “I should have told you before I spoke with Sitric. I shouldn’t have risked the mission. I knew you’d be disappointed in me again, and I was enjoying getting to spend time with the version of you who didn’t see me as a failure.”
Cormac considered his brother, drinking deeply from the waterskin and handing it back to Diarmid. “I was trying to show you that you could trust me,” Cormac replied reluctantly. “It hurt when it was clear you still couldn’t.”
Diarmid placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, not looking away from Cormac. “I was doing much the same myself,” he admitted with a smile.
“Shall we try again?” Cormac asked.
Diarmid grinned at him. “Absolutely. Let’s start with you telling me what’s going on with you and Astrid?”
“I already told you,” Cormac growled. “She’s the devil’s mistress, sent here to torment me.”
Diarmid barely contained a snort of laughter at his eldest brother. Never in his life had Cormac said something so outrageous, especially about some poor, innocent woman. He stopped prodding him for now, but he could not wait to see what happened next with that.
They rode for three days, the weather a miserable sheet of rain for much of it. When they reached Caiseal, Dunla, Brian’s wife and Diarmid’s eldest sibling—a full four years older than Cormac—rushed out to greet them. She hugged Diarmid and Cormac, greeting Finn and Illadan and ushering them all to the hall.
Brian’s feasting hall was an immense, round building, constructed in the style of the ancient kings of éire. Much like Sitric’s hall, it had a central hearth and seating scattered about. The Fianna followed the queen into the hall to find Brian seated by the hearth. Diarmid noted that more often than not, as the king aged it was the spot he favored. Brian, still a tall man though his hair had long since greyed, stood to greet them.
“What news?” he asked, his shrewd eyes taking in the men before him.
Diarmid stepped forward. “It’s rather a long story,” he began. Then he proceeded to tell the entire course of events to Brian, who listened without a hint at his thinking. When Diarmid finished, he explained that Cara had offered to gift Sitric a portion of her lands in recompense for the broken engagement, and so that he might have access to better resources for his kingdom.
“I’m beginning to wonder if Finn Mac Cumhail required his Fianna to marry for love as a test to his own patience,” Brian muttered, bringing a hand to his impressive grey beard.
Diarmid apologized again, not knowing what else to do as his king deliberated his fate.
“The oath was clear,” Brian began, “the Fianna must marry for love. If you love her, I must allow it. Cara will remain queen of Thurles, but Sitric will be king by law, not marriage, and entitled to one half of the resources from those lands. I realize it is an unusual solution,” Brian said, “but it’s also quite an unusual problem. I will consult with my advisors before I send you back.”
“Back?” Cormac asked, sounding horrified. “You mean to deliver the news to Sitric and return with the princess?”
“Oh, no, you’ll be in Dyflin a good long while yet, if my instincts are correct. Sitric won’t be getting away without a wife, though I’m certain he’d hoped as much.”
Illadan raised a brow. “Do you have someone else in mind?”
Brian flashed them a devious smile. “Two someones, in fact. And you’ll be staying until he’s wedded and bedded one or both. I don’t care. Just get him married.” He turned to Dunla, who sat quietly embroidering beside them. “Wives are one of life’s great joys,” he declared. “And it’s time Sitric takes one.”
A sennight later,the Fianna returned, their numbers twice what they’d been when they set out from Dyflin. Brian had chosen two women, who’d each brought a lady’s maid, to present to Sitric. As much as Diarmid wanted to watch Sitric’s reaction to Brian’s new orders, he couldn’t take his eyes off Cara.
Before he’d met her, he would have laughed at the notion that he’d fall in love and be betrothed to a woman in less than one turning of the moon. That he’d happily and willingly bed only one woman for the rest of his life. The moment the reception had ended and the new guests were taken away to see their rooms, Diarmid lifted his princess into his arms.
He kissed her until she gasped for breath.
And the smile she gave him as he carried her into their cottage told him this was only the beginning.