“I have over a month to figure that out, and if we delay long enough with the wedding, perhaps I can convince him otherwise. But for now, this will offer me some small security in my future.”
“And what are you offering in exchange for my help?”
She threw him a withering glare. “I will tell my brother whatever you want with regard to the brides sent by Brian. I assume you aim to have him wed Sláine, in which case I will become her greatest champion.”
“Deal.”
“Excellent.” She straightened in her chair.
Cormac knew the conversation wasn’t finished when she started worrying her bottom lip. He didn’t prompt her, though, as his brothers no doubt would. Instead, he waited.
“Youcanwin theleikmót, aye?”
Cormac nearly chuckled at the ridiculous question, but then he noted that the color had drained from her face. Her voice had quieted, and she still bit her bottom lip. Gormla was right.
Astrid was afraid.
“Aye,” he assured her. “I can win.”
Chapter Seven
This was allhis fault. She tugged hard on her cream underdress, the neckline doing its best to make a mess of her braids. Shoving her arms through the sleeves, Astrid reminded herself that she couldn’t best Cormac in a duel, and therefore couldn’t unleash her anger in that specific way. She doubted any of her men, or even her brother, could beat him, unfortunately. Sighing in resignation, she pulled on her sage green apron dress and fastened the bronze brooches.
She may not be able to punish him properly for his actions, but Astrid wouldn’t soon forgive the warrior. She had played nice last night to secure his cooperation, but she blamed him entirely for this disastrous turn of events. Even with their bargain, Astrid’s situation remained precarious.
Aye, she had a plan but, as Cormac had pointed out to her, ’twas a faulty one. On top of the threat of an unwanted marriage, Astrid had dug the hole deeper with regard to her brother’s arranged marriage. And, as though that weren’t enough, she had to manage the planning of these ridiculous games whilst ensuring that Cormac won.
The potent combination of her worries and responsibilities destroyed any appetite she might’ve had. Instead of breaking her fast in the family’s hall, she hurried over to the guest hall in search of Cormac. She had but a fortnight to turn him into a model Ostman.
When she stepped into the hall from the icy mist, Astrid found it empty, save for Niamh sorting herbs on one of the trestle tables.
“Where is everyone?” she asked, approaching the table and inspecting the array of freshly picked plants. “And whatever are you doing?”
The golden-haired beauty paused in her work. “The men run through the bog every morn, then they train in the yard, then they bathe, then they study. Cormac and Illadan keep them busy, even when they’re at their leisure.”
“Study?” Astrid repeated. The rest she understood, but that hardly sounded like something expected of a warrior.
“The Fianna must be able to play and perform music and poetry,” Niamh explained. “Finn is teaching them the histories of the people, and as a whole they discuss politics and strategy.”
“I see,” Astrid mumbled, still not understanding in the least why that was a concern of warriors. “And these?” She gestured at the plants covering the table between them.
“Dallan told me the games are quite violent, so I’m making extra salves and tinctures. No one’s dying on my watch if I can help it.”
“We have healers, you know,” Astrid smiled, picking up a sprig of greenery and smelling it. Her nose wrinkled at the acrid scent.
“I know.” Niamh caught her gaze. “But I’m better than them.”
Astrid chuckled. “I always liked you.”
As much as she wanted to linger and watch Niamh’s process, she had plenty of her own work waiting. Cormac wouldn’t be available until that evening, so she sought out her mother and brother to get started on this ridiculousleikmót.
They met in the family’s hall, not caring to venture out into the downpour that descended shortly after Astrid left Niamh.Settling into one of the cozy corners, they were left to meet in peace, with naught but the servants passing by on errands.
“I’ve already dispatched messengers to deliver the invitations to the guests,” Sitric began. “Our focus for the next fortnight must be constructing theleikskálar.I doubt tents will be sufficient protection from the chill this time of the year, so we’ll need to start building the halls as soon as possible to have them ready.”
Leikskálar,gaming sheds that housed participants much like miniature halls, were the standard for hosting extended games. It took a great deal of both wood and manpower to see them built, and it sounded as though they were building several.
Astrid narrowed her eyes at her brother. “This is going to cost a fortune. Is it really worth spending all this just to try to get rid of me?”
