This was madness. Absolute, utter madness.
Cara watched in horror as Sitric tossed the runes, catching them in his hand and reading them.
“I’m curious,” he said. “What did your heart want them to say? Who do you wish to wed?”
So that was his game. He used the runes as a ruse to divine her feelings on the matter. Well, Cara knew precisely whom she wished to marry.
From the corner of her vision, she saw the other two boats slam against the dancing shore. She didn’t allow herself to look too closely.
“You,” she declared, her voice unwavering. “I wish to marry you.”
Sitric’s brows rose for just a moment, but he quickly returned to his usual expression. He looked down at the runes once more, then back at Cara. “The runes agree.”
“Good.” Cara’s attention moved to the man standing a few paces behind Sitric.
Diarmid.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Diarmid stood, kneedeep in the rising tide, wondering what he’d just witnessed. For several breaths, he was too stunned to do anything. Then it hit him, harder and sharper than the icy waters roiling at his feet.
She’d chosen Sitric.
What hurt even more was that she’d not hesitated, not paused or considered at all. She hadn’t looked for him as he jumped ashore. And when her gaze had finally found him, all he saw was solid ice. A look that froze his heart and then shattered it.
In one look, he knew she wasn’t going to give him a chance to explain anything. No matter how many times he proved himself, it would never be enough.
She’d chosen Sitric.
He strode through the thick tangles of seaweed, until he reached her. She watched his every move with that frigid glare. When he reached her, Diarmid thrust the sack he was carrying into her arms, the one he’d filled with a book, wrapped in a strip of leather—as safe as he could keep it from the salty sea.
Then he walked away.
“What just happened?”Cormac sat down across from him at the alehouse, where he’d been drowning his sorrows since he left the harbor.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Diarmid grumbled. He knew he owed Cormac an explanation, but he needed time first. He wasn’t ready yet.
Cormac politely waved off Maeve when she came to set down an ale for him. “I’m afraid we must.” His gaze bored into Diarmid’s, forcing him to catch his eye. “Why did Sitric offer to let her marry you?”
“Because I told him I was in love with her.” The words forced him to take another swig.
Cormac took away his tankard. “You’re going to trip all the way up the hill at this rate.”
“Can’t think of a better way to get there.”
“Diarmid.” Cormac’s sharp tone sobered him. “Are you telling me that you seriously contemplated letting our mission fail so that you could marry the bride sent from one king to another? To further peace between kingdoms?”
Diarmid blew out a breath, running a hand through his sea-soaked hair. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds a lot worse.”
“That’s because it is a lot worse,” Cormac grumbled. “I thought you’d changed, brother. I thought you’d finally grown from a child to a man, who stands by his oaths and friends.”
He hadn’t thought it possible, but Diarmid felt even worse as he listened to his brother speak naught but the truth.
Cormac rose, his lips taut. “I know you’re unhappy with the lady’s choice,” he said under his breath, “but she just did you a favor. If you had actually prevented that marriage, Illadan would’ve made certain you were no longer counted among the Fianna.”
For the first time in his life, Diarmid felt too depressed to drink. Once Cormac was far enough away that he wouldn’t risk running into him, Diarmid trudged back down the road towardSitric’s holding, wondering how this day could possibly get any worse.
He didn’t have to wonder long.
