The smile that held permanent residence on Sitric’s bearded face faltered. “You’re cleverer than that, sister,” he said gently. “Don’t let your temper hinder your judgment. You were the one who wanted to move against Brian sooner rather than later, were you not?”
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. How had she missed it? “You mean to buy an army through marriage.”
“As Brian appears intent on preventing my own marriage from accomplishing such a feat, it falls to you.” His smile reappeared, bright as ever. “And the beauty of the games is that it won’t seem to Brian that I am deliberately choosing a man who would ally against him.”
“And what if a man not of your choosing should win?” Astrid’s plans had not changed, not yet at least. But this certainly made a muck into a proper mess.
Shedidwant her brother to escape servitude to Brian and become a king unto himself alone. Marrying a man who could give them an army would add speed to the long process, but itwouldn’t solve all their problems. And, most importantly, Astrid would still be leaving behind her culture to move to a fully Gaelic kingdom. Alone.
“The only men competing will be those I’ve invited, and all have advantages to our cause, even those who nominally ally with Brian.”
The blood raced through her veins, her mind reaching a conclusion she doubted Cormac would like any more than she did. If Sitric handpicked the men, Cormac would have to convince Sitric to let him join theleikmót.
Keeping her features carefully guarded, Astrid pretended irritation to hide her growing concerns.
They spent the next few hours compiling lists of the rules and games, discussing the logistics of feeding so many guests for so long, and debating whether or not they could even get the housing built in time. Astrid doubted it. Gormla thought they might manage it. Sitric saw no problem whatsoever.
Come dinner, Astrid had more to tell Cormac than she thought could fit into one evening of conversation—especially since she’d have to wait until after dinner to corner him. And, somehow, she had to work with him and not attack him at every opportunity. Instead of trying to pull him aside publicly, she decided to retire for the evening and wait for him in his room.
Tonight, she planned to teach him to playhnefatafl, a game of cunning much like chess, and an excellent opportunity to thrash him, as Astrid won nearly every game of it she played. She moved the small bedside table to the foot of the bed, setting the board and pieces for a match atop it and looking forward to exacting some revenge upon the warrior, small though it may be.
The interlude felt interminable as she sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the gaming and laughter in the main hall. She’d brought some mending to work on while she waited, but she couldn’t sit still.
Just when she worried he may have gone into town with Sitric and some of the men, the door opened and Cormac stopped dead when he spotted her. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder before stepping in and closing the door behind him.
His sea-blue eyes took in the repositioned table and the game board before lifting to meet Astrid’s stare. With a sigh of resignation, he strode to the bed and sat on the edge nearest the other side of the little table. “I’m not doing this every night.”
“You’re doing it until I’m certain you can win.”
His lips tightened into a wicked smirk. “I can win already.” He picked up one of the white wooden warriors from the edge of the board and moved it toward the king in the center.
“You know how to play?” She moved one of the black pieces to better defend the king, her hopes sinking like a rotten longship.
“Have you already forgotten that both your cousins live with us? Dallan and Eva have boards of their own. And Finn and his sister are the children of an Ostman, both of whom live with our number as well.”
“It never occurred to me that they had brought their boards with them,” she grumbled. So much for thrashing him. “That’s just as well. It gives us more time for you to practice other skills.”
In his next two moves, he’d forced her to place one of her warriors into a vulnerable position.
“What other skills will I need?” He didn’t look up from the board, making his next move as he spoke.
“Many.” She countered his move. “Most of which I doubt you have.” She provoked him deliberately, trying to break his concentrated attack on her king. Cormac was trouncing her.
“If you doubt my skills, then why beg for my aid?”
“Beg!” Astrid screeched in protest. Remembering that she sat in a man’s room in secret, she lowered her voice to continueberating his poor word choice. “I do notbeg. You were fortunate that I offered you any sort of truce in the first place.”
“Which reminds me,” he added smoothly, as though she hadn’t just lost her temper. “Have you spoken with your brother?”
Astrid tsked at him, as much to buy her time to contemplate her next move in the game as to forestall the conversation. “Of course I spoke with my brother.”
Cormac narrowed his eyes. “About choosing Sláine as his bride?”
“If I change my mind overnight, he’ll be suspicious. We have weeks. Let it sit for a while and then I’ll pretend I’ve gotten to know her better.”
“Or you could actually get to know her better.” His men advanced again, surrounding her king and claiming the victory.
Frowning, Astrid reset the board. Though he’d convinced her that he could play the game, she liked having something to occupy them while they spoke. She took the first turn this time, moving one of the white pieces along the edge toward his king.
