Cara didn’t have time for foolish games. “What’s to become of Aodh?”
A smile played at one corner of his mouth. “Charming fellow, isn’t he?”
“I asked you a question,” she shot back, no longer able to hide her irritation and far too tired to care. “Is he to be spared?”
“Aye,” he finally answered. “Brian has granted him clemency in light of your family’s crimes.”
“Good.” Cara took a deep breath, praying for patience as she forged ahead. “And what of me? Will I return to Thurles?”
His deep brown eyes, the same hue as the blackthorn tree behind him, softened. “We’re to escort you to Dyflin, that you might marry Sitric.”
“Very well.” Cara had long ago accepted that her marriage would be an act of strategy, not love, a fact that more than suited her. At least Dyflin was close enough that she could visit her sister from time to time in Thurles.
“That’s it?” her irritating rescuer asked as they began walking back toward the camp. “You don’t even look upset.”
“Should I be?” she asked. “I’ve heard that Sitric is a kind and reasonable man, and I know this alliance is important for Brian. I don’t see what there is to be upset over.”
“It’s been my experience that most women, even those who are prepared for marriage alliances, have some misgivings initially.”
“Misgivings won’t change my responsibilities or my future,” Cara replied matter-of-factly. “I don’t see the need to waste my time on them.”
He regarded her with a curious look before extending an arm, as men often greeted one another. She took it, surprised at how warm his arm felt beneath her hand.
“Diarmid,” he said, finally introducing himself. “Let’s get you to Dyflin.”
Cara fell into step beside Diarmid, thanking the stars above that it wasn’t him she was going to be marrying.
Chapter Three
“Niamh!” Relief washedover Cara like the bath she so desperately desired. “It’s so good to see a familiar face.”
“Brian sent me along to act as your lady’s maid,” Niamh explained, walking over to where Cara and Diarmid had entered the encampment. “And in case of injuries. Are you well?” Niamh’s eyes narrowed as she inspected Cara. Though she wasn’t close to Niamh, Cara had been acquainted with her for the past six years.
“I’m just fine, thank you,” Cara assured her. “Tired, but hale.” Looking about her, she could just make out the faces of seven men, other than Diarmid, who stood about a reinvigorated fire. The band of warriors, apparently so talented they were sent without an army to retrieve her, were all giants. She realized, taking them in one after the other, that her original comparison of the men to Myrmidons was quite apt. “Who is the leader of this unit?”
A man to her right stepped forward. Tall and broad, as all of them were, he held an unmistakable air of command. “Illadan mac Mahon mac Kennedy, Princess Cara. I am leader of the Fianna.”
Those names she recognized. “This is Brian’s personal warrior band? And you are a prince of Munster, yes?” Illadan’s father, Brian’s brother, had been king before Brian, if she recalled her father’s lessons correctly.
“Aye,” he replied simply before gesturing to each of the men as he introduced them. “This is Finn Ulfsson of Ath Dara; Dallan mac Murrough, former prince of Laigin; Broccan mac Lorcan, commander of the king’s army and my cousin; and Ardál mac Shay.” Then he pointed to the last three men. “Diarmid, you’ve already met. These are his brothers, Cormac and Conan. All three are the sons of Cahill mac Conor mac Teague and princes of Connachta.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” she told them, shocked at how many princes stood before her. Brian’s cause had truly roused the kingdoms to action. Or perhaps he’d specifically requested royal blood. Either way, Cara was outranked by almost all of her companions. And she was a princess. “Thank you for delivering me from an unpleasant betrothal.”
“I’m afraid we’re simply swapping one betrothal for another,” Illadan replied gently. “We’re not to take you back to Thurles. You will marry Sitric, King of Dyflin, and we are to escort you there and see the betrothal formalized.”
“Yes, Diarmid mentioned that.” Cara felt the weariness deep in her bones. She knew she wouldn’t sleep well after such an eventful night, but she needed rest. “Will we be camping here for the remainder of the night?”
Illadan, as well as half the men before her, looked at her as though she’d grown a second head.
“What is it?” she asked, already guessing at the answer.
“It’s just that we expected you’d take the news a bit harder. Need more time to think it through.” Illadan repeated Diarmid’s prior comment.
Perhaps she needed to appear more put-upon, if only to get them to stop worrying over her. “I admit, I’m not terribly fond of the idea of marrying one of the foreigners who has killed so many of our own people,” she told them, trying to inject more feeling into her words and knowing that she failed miserably.It had been a long day, after all. “But I’m prepared to do what I must to help salvage the situation and prevent further bloodshed.”
“Sitric is a good man, though he can be a bit difficult at times,” Dallan, who stood with his arms about Niamh, offered.
“Aye,” Diarmid agreed. “He’s a handsome fellow who knows how to have a good time. You could do a lot worse.”
