“Must you?” Cormac glared at his younger brother.
Diarmid shrugged. “It’s the truth. It’s not my fault Broccan struggles with his temper. Illadan will support me in this—”
“I will do no such thing,” Illadan grumbled.
“No?” Diarmid countered. “You, who is newly wed to a woman who wanted naught to do with you? You would disagree that kindness wins hearts? Or what of Finn, hm? He spent countless hours paying attention to a woman who’d fallen between the cracks,showing her kindness. Now look at them, married and all that nonsense.”
The silence that followed his argument told Diarmid he’d claimed the victory, for the night at least. He stood, throwing back the rest of his ale and checking his sword before heading for the door. “I’ll take first watch.”
The following morn,Diarmid could hardly wait to get into Dyflin and stop this incessant traveling. Though he certainly made the most of his time on the road, he grew weary of riding from dawn to dusk, hardly fighting and not training at all. But as he sateating porridge with the other Fianna, Diarmid realized it would be long past midday by the time they reached Dyflin.
“They’re not ready to leave yet,” Dallan reported again, returning from the room where the women had slept.
“What could they possibly be doing that would take this long?” Broccan grumbled.
“They wouldn’t let me in to see,” Dallan replied, taking a seat beside Diarmid. “But my sister always took hours to get her hair braided.”
“How long do they require?” Illadan asked, eyeing the window to gauge the hour. “Sitric will want us before they dine.”
“She said they were nearly finished, but I couldn’t get anything more precise than that.”
“It won’t take that long to get into Dyflin,” Diarmid pointed out. “Once we leave, that is.”
“We cannot delay too long.” Ardál stepped in from outdoors. “Rain is coming. Unless the princess has a woolen hood, all their hard work will be for naught when she gets soaked.”
Diarmid stood, grabbing Dallan’s arm as he strode past. “Come on, if we threaten rain they may hasten.” Dallan muttered an oath in protest but stood to follow Diarmid all the same.
They hurried to the ladies’ door, at the far end of a corridor that ran the length of the common room. Diarmid rapped his knuckle loudly several times. “Ladies, we come bearing news.”
The door flew open, revealing an exasperated Niamh. “Well?”
“It will rain soon,” Dallan told his betrothed as Diarmid craned his neck to peek around Niamh. “She’ll be a drowned rat instead of a royal prize if we don’t get out of here soon.”
“What did you say?” Cara appeared beside Niamh, her dark brows furrowed against moon-pale skin.
“Did you apply powder?” Diarmid asked, reaching a finger to brush some of the white dust from her cheek.
She batted his hand away. “Of course, I did. Should I not dress my best before meeting the man I’m meant to impress into marriage?”
“Aye, but,” Diarmid began, considering how to explain without it seeming an insult. He took in her carefully powdered and painted face, the pink dusting on her high cheeks, the red tint to her full lips. She looked bewitching as ever. No, her powders weren’t the problem. It was her hair.
Those shimmering, blue-black locks were braided and pinned up, not a single strand left to hang about her face or shoulders.
“Well?” Cara pressed, folding her arms across her chest. Her full, rounded chest. Diarmid had to force his focus back to her face.
“I did my best,” Niamh said softly. “I’m not trained as a lady’s maid.”
Diarmid dove in, against his better judgment. He was here to see her married to Sitric, after all. “It’s just that I don’t think Sitric is the sort who appreciates such a formal appearance. You’d be better off leaving your hair down.”
Cara’s blue eyes blazed, those tempting lips tightening into a thin line.
Beside him, Dallan choked on a laugh. “Are you actually giving a princess advice on how to present herself?”
“I spent several nights with Sitric when last he visited,” Diarmid defended. “He and I have a good deal in common, and he always went after the women who appeared more…”
“More?” Cara demanded, her eyes looking about to burst into icy flame.
Dallan shook his head. “You’ve done it now.”
