The sixteen competitors paired up, throwing stones to determine which men were of comparable strength. Cormac was paired with a man a hair shorter than him but just as broad. Tall, with sandy blonde hair that reminded Cormac of Finn’s,the man clearly knew his way around a sword. They stood about ten yards apart, his opponent holding the stick and preparing to hit the ball to him when another group of horses rode into the settlement. Perhaps he’d misunderstood Astrid when she said fifteen men were invited. Or perhaps Sitric had later invited another competitor. The men around Cormac were entirely focused on the game; not one seemed to notice.
Cormac’s attention was divided between the game and the horses. He couldn’t quite make out the features of the men, but he could tell there were no women with them. Astrid rose, presumably to greet the newcomers, but something about the entire situation felt wrong, setting the hairs on the back of his neck on end.
Sitric’s men began the count. His opponent raised the stick, drawing Cormac’s attention sharply back to the game at hand. And at the same moment that the stick cracked against the ball, Cormac heard a sound that he’d hoped never to hear again. His stomach dropped as he caught the ball.
And his father’s voice rang out across the field.
Chapter Eleven
Astrid’s irritation flaredas she watched a group of horses stop behind their seats at the edge of the field nearest the housing.
“Did you invite someone else?” Astrid asked Sitric under her breath.
“No,” he answered. “No one else should be here.”
“Then who is that?” She motioned with her head toward the men now dismounting.
Sitric turned, his pale brow furrowing. “That looks—it can’t be.”
“Who? It can’t bewho?” she demanded again.
“It looks like the King of Connachta.” Sitric nudged their mother beside him, turning her attention also to the man walking toward them. “I’ve only seen him once, but I recall he had the same scar over his left brow.”
“Why is he here?”
He shrugged, turning back to check the progress of the game in front of them. “He shouldn’t be. He knows he’s not welcome after the battle last winter.”
If her brother guessed correctly and the man was, indeed, the King of Connachta, he’d been one of the kings who fought alongside Brian to defeat her brother and sack Dyflin. Though the man’s alliance with Brian had been temporary, the damage to her opinion of him was permanent.
Astrid rose with a huff to greet the guests. She needed to pay attention to Cormac’s performance in this match in order tooffer advice and insight on his opponents and how he might beat them in the next challenge. In the few minutes Astrid had seen, Cormac appeared distracted and confused, which surprised her. By all accounts he was a man of great skill and athleticism, and such a game should be easy for him.
Concern over her choice of champion threaded her thoughts as she went to discover the identity of this uninvited guest. Her mother and her brother followed on her heels, both seeming as irritated as she felt.
“Greetings, great King Sitric of the Ostmen of Dyflin,” the man with a scarred brow called.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” Sitric replied, his signature grin nowhere in sight, “for I am not privy to your name and title.”
“It’s been many years and you were but a boy when last we looked upon one another,” the man said gruffly. “I am Cahill, King of Connachta, and this is my eldest son, Teague, my successor. I wish for him to compete in your games, that he might win the hand of your sister and our two great kingdoms can unite.”
Her brother went on to reply, but Astrid missed most of what he said when her mother nudged her from behind. Astrid turned her head ever so slightly as her mother whispered in her ear.
“Cahill is an enemy of Brian still,” she told Astrid. “He would ally with us when we rebel again. Teague might not be a terrible choice of husband for you.”
Astrid nodded her understanding, but did not much care for that insight. The thought of marrying a man who’d attacked Dyflin barely a year ago felt as much a betrayal of her people as marrying a Gael—and Teague was both. Though, she realized with horror, Cormac and his brothers had likely numbered among Brian’s men in the battle. Allegiances on this island shifted like the winds.
It took her several moments of not really listening to the conversation to reach a second, equally unwelcome realization of Cahill. If Cahill was the king of Connachta, and Cormac and his brothers were princes of Connachta, then this must be their father and brother.
Perhaps that was why he’d been so distracted. Maybe he’d caught sight of them just as the game began. That must be it, she decided, unwilling to believe anything else could cause trouble for her champion. The thought that Cormac would be competing against his own brother, and that she could potentially end up marrying Teague instead of Cormac made her squirm in discomfort. She didn’t like that one bit.
The more she considered it, the more she realized that yet another factor tallied against Teague as a potential husband: the location of his kingdom, deep in the heart of Gaelic Éire. There were no nearby Ostman settlements. She would have virtually no contact with her own people. In the Kingdom of Connachta, Astrid would be in complete and utter isolation, and likely unwelcome.
“We’d be happy to have you join us,” she heard her brother say when she finally turned her attention back to the conversation with the king. “Please, this way.”
Cahill must have said something important and convincing for her brother to change his manner so swiftly, and to welcome to the contest a man who’d battled against them so recently. Once again, her brother proved himself too kind a soul to be king. Astrid would’ve turned the lout out before he could draw breath.
Sitric called one of his men to go and join the game alongside Teague, so that the numbers were still even on each team. In Astrid’s mind, it mattered nearly as little as the teams themselves. The game was more a test of each man’s individual strength more than it was any sort of effort at unity.
With the business of the uninvited guest settled, Astrid returned with her mother and brother to their seats atop small wooden chairs on the side of the field of play. Most of the household had come down out of the holding to watch the first match of the tournament. The game tested strength and stamina, a method to measure each man on his own amidst chaos, and lasted until Sitric called a halt. Not knowing when the match ended would put the men’s strength of will to the test as much as their physical might.
