The rest of the men had the wild, dark hair so prevalent amongst the native people and shared a similar size and build. Unsurprising, as they’d all managed to perform the same feats of strength and skill to become Fianna in the first place. Squinting against the glare of the midmorning sun, Cara finally identified Diarmid when he stood to change posts with someone.
Diarmid had not been himself since their discussion. He didn’t make jokes or laugh. He’d kissed her plenty, and then some, but it felt—different. As though he held back something that he hadn’t before. Cara knew something was wrong. And she knew it had to do with her.
A frigid breeze blew across the sea, puckering the colorful sails that filled the harbor. Cara pulled the wolfskin cloak that Sitric had let her borrow tighter about her shoulders. Though the sun beat down—a rare occurrence in Dyflin, Sitric had told her—midwinter fast approached, and the weather had a biting chill that crept further in from the edges of each day.
As the longship rushed across the waters toward the horizon, Cara recalled the tales of the Myrmidons, led by the fearless Achilles. She wished the men before her the same prowess in battle as those mighty warriors of old. They’d always captured her imagination, these great kings and warriors and their tales of adventure and battle. Though she’d seen many a warrior in her father’s army, nothing brought to mind her beloved stories like watching the Fianna train.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Sitric plopped down onto the ground beside her, his arms resting on his bent knees. “Astrid complains of the smell of the harbor, but all I see are blue skies and opportunity.”
“The wind makes certain that you mainly smell the sea anyway,” Cara replied, breathing deeply of the briny breeze. Then, unable to contain her curiosity, she asked, “Why opportunity?” It seemed an odd choice of words.
“Because you could meet anyone here,” he explained. “You could see anything, learn anything. It provides an opportunity to expand both my kingdom’s wealth and my understanding of the world.” He pointed at a large cargo ship grounded on the far side of the harbor. “That cog is captained by a man who speaks fifteen languages. Fifteen. I’ve made a point of speaking with him every time he makes it back this way, solely to hear the stories he tells.”
“Where is he from?”
Sitric chuckled. “He made me swear I’d never tell anyone, since I butcher the language so badly. I can’t say he’s wrong. Buthe tells me that where he comes from there are serpents as long as two tall men that can swallow a deer whole.”
Cara’s eyes went wide. “What!”
“I know!” Sitric shivered in a mockery of fear. “And cats as large as a man, covered in orange and black stripes that prowl through the forests. He’s been to places that I couldn’t have imagined in my dreams.”
They sat in companionable silence for a time, Cara alternately watching the longship as it turned about back toward the harbor and contemplating a place where such creatures as Sitric described might exist. It was the first time she’d felt truly comfortable in his presence, Cara realized.
“I wanted to speak with you about the betrothal,” Sitric ventured as the Fianna’s ship neared the shallows.
Cara looked over to him, his pale hair streaked with auburn—the only nod to his mother’s fiery locks. Guilt stabbed at her gut. She hadn’t given a thought to the terms he’d delivered—a kiss for a betrothal. Lord, what if he meant to kiss her right now?
She glanced at the longship, just approaching the shoreline and preparing to land. Diarmid had wanted to tell Sitric after the raid, worried his friend would be too distracted otherwise. How could she put him off without making a denial outright?
And then there were the political ramifications to consider, which they had only briefly discussed. Was Cara prepared to give up her land and title, her sister’s home, and possibly the last shreds of her family’s reputation for Diarmid? He felt so distant these past days, perhaps he regretted it already.
What if she refused Sitric only to have Diarmid decide she wasn’t worth the trouble?
“I have given it much thought since our last discussion,” Sitric began, “and I will agree to a betrothal as Brian has asked.”
Cara swallowed. “What of the kiss?”
Sitric grinned. “By all means, offer it if you wish. But after spending more time together, I don’t think it would be as miserable as I once believed.”
“May I ask why?”
“In part, I feel that you are finally showing more of yourself as the days pass. And though we are quite different, we have more in common than I thought.” He paused to gauge her reaction before continuing. “Mainly, if I’m honest, it’s that the lure of land in Mumhain is terribly tempting. We have some farms here, in the countryside outside the settlement, and they send us what they can. But we spend a good deal of coin importing crops that we could grow in your kingdom far better.”
Cara appreciated the blunt honesty in his words. “The countryside there is dotted with a patchwork of productive farms,” Cara agreed, her nerves gaining ground. Of course, he decided the marriage based upon what was best for his kingdom. That he’d even take his personal feelings into account at all should have struck her as odd. “I imagine it would be beneficial to you as well to hold land within Brian’s kingdom.”
Sitric looked at his hands. “I suppose that sounds terribly heartless, doesn’t it? That my final decision came from political gain?”
“On the contrary,” Cara replied. “It sounds much more like you’re a wise king who puts his people before himself.”
“I try to be, on occasion.” He offered her a playful half-smile. “But I never forget that I am also a man, else how can I relate to my people?”
She wished, more than anything, that she could tell him the truth in this moment. He spoke in measured tones of things that truly mattered to him. If there were a time to offer him the truth, this was it.
But Cara had promised Diarmid that he could be the one to broach the topic with his friend. She understood now, even morethan she had when she’d seen them partake in companionable revelry, how they’d become friends.
“What say you?” he asked when she made no reply. “Shall we have the contract drawn up before I go?”
“Could we wait until your return?” Cara schooled her features into the same neutral look she’d worn much of her life.
