He crossed his arms over his chest, his mail rattling. “Explain it to me,” he ordered, his tone measured. “From the beginning.”
Diarmid told him everything, trying not to show how much more anxious he grew with each word. Sitric stood motionless, listening. His eyes, fixed on Diarmid, gave nothing away.
“Well,” he let out with a heavy breath. “That poses a few difficulties.”
“It does,” Diarmid agreed. “You have my sincerest apologies. But I imagine that is the cause of her unexpected hesitation.” When Sitric didn’t reply, Diarmid forged ahead. “I count you among my friends, Sitric, but I understand if this has set a rift between us. I swear, I will make it right.”
“Gods, man, it’s not as though I’m in love with her,” Sitric snorted. “I want her land, her resources. If we can figure a way that I still get them, bed her all you’d like.”
“That would be up to Cara and Brian,” Diarmid replied.
Sitric nodded. “Aye. I suppose we’ll have to start with Cara, then. I’ll send a messenger to Brian when we return. He won’tcome visit himself of course. He’s too afraid of seeing my mother,” Sitric laughed.
“A truly terrifying woman, indeed,” Diarmid joined in. “I’m sorry to have let you down.”
Sitric waved a hand. “Think no more of it. Though I wish you’d have told me before I made a fool of suggesting to her that we draw up the contract.”
“What will you do next?” Diarmid asked. They’d agreed the decision would lie with Cara, but not upon how to present it to her.
“We let the runes decide,” he replied, as though that were the most reasonable solution.
“What? No, Sitric,” Diarmid protested.
“I have a plan, never fear,” he flashed a grin, though Diarmid would hardly call it reassuring. “We will let the princess choose. If she loves you, she’ll choose you. If she won’t lose her family’s kingdom, she’ll choose me. Everyone wins. And once she’s made her choice, we can decide on the particulars.”
“And how, exactly, do the runes play a part in this?” Diarmid was almost afraid to ask. He walked over to the door, book under his arm.
Sitric leaned in close, wrapping his giant arm about Diarmid and squeezing him into a hug. “I’m glad you asked. It’s going to be great—it will be just like in those stories she loves so much. Here’s what we’ll do…”
*
Cara had madea huge mistake. When she sat up in bed the morn the men set sail, it felt as though she’d woken from a fever dream, seeing the world as it was for the first time since she’d met Diarmid.
The world was a disappointment. It was growing close to people only to watch them let you down over and over until you’d had enough.
This morn, as Cara watched the longships approaching the harbor, she’d had enough. Diarmid had left. He’d disappeared after bedding her, not even returning to say farewell. Just like Torna, he’d gotten what he wanted. He’d used all the same words, all the same seductions and games. How she’d missed it, Cara couldn’t fathom.
But it mattered not, for she saw it now.
She’d, once again, given him the benefit. She asked after him, to see if one of the maids saw him leave. She had, as it turned out—the one he’d shamelessly pursued at dinner. Cara pieced together information from several folk who’d been up and about when Diarmid left. And every one of them agreed—he’d gone to the alehouse. And folk who lived near the alehouse or who had been there that night all agreed—he’d spent the night with one of the serving women.
Cara hadn’t even let herself cry. Such a man wasn’t worth a single tear.
And she’d nearly sacrificed her family’s future for such a rogue. She shuddered even now as the thought intruded.
The ships made record time into the harbor, and Cara wondered if they’d made yet another wager. She was sick of those as well. The white tips of waves crashed about the smooth wooden hulls, foaming and seething like spirits rising from the grave. Three ships, two pulling ahead of the last.
As they neared the shore where Cara stood waiting, she spotted Sitric at the bow, grasping the dragon’s head that reached up from the spine of the ship. He leaped into the shallows before the ship made berth, splashing through the frigid water, and produced his leather rune pouch.
“Fair princess!” he called dramatically. “The runes shall decide our fate!”
Cara hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about, but she assumed the raids had gone well based on his theatrics. “And what fate is that?” she asked, when he was near enough she needn’t shout.
“I hear tell that you love a prince but are to marry a king,” he replied. “The runes shall decide who will win your hand.”
“But—” she protested, feeling the heat flush her cheeks.
“Ah,” Sitric held up a hand. “We let fate decide. What the runes say, we shall obey.”
