“We had to outrun a pursuer through thick foliage without being injured or breaking any branches.” He looked at her askance, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “It’s harder than it sounds.”
Astrid rolled her eyes. “No need to defend your masculinity. It sounds plenty hard.”
A rumble of laughter escaped Cormac’s lips. “There’s the Astrid I know,” he teased. “After the spear throwing, the most difficult challenge for many men was that of movement.” He leaned forward, speaking with his hands as much as his voice. “We trained until we were able to leap over a tree of an equal height to ourselves, and then crawl beneath a branch shorter than our knees without touching it.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Every man that came with me to Dyflin can do it,” Cormac grinned, “and I wager they’d be thrilled at repeating the experience.”
His grin was infectious, and Astrid returned it in spite of her best efforts. “And what other unbelievable feats have you all done?”
“We ran through the forest with all speed, until stepping on a thorn. But you must then remove it without slowing down.”
Astrid rolled her eyes again at that one. “What purpose could that possibly serve?” she challenged. “Even if you could accomplish it without falling straight on your face, why is that a skill you need to prove that you have?”
“The test is of speed, but also endurance. Imagine you’re being chased through the forest and you can’t stop until nightfall, but you become injured. Somehow being able to attend to it without being captured could save your life and your foot.”
“Fine, fine,” she allowed. “It’s a bit far-fetched, but I can see that one perhaps. What are the last two?”
“A test of bravery, where we must fight outnumbered but not falter or flee.”
That one made sense, at least, though she found it unsettling that he’d done that already. The image of him fighting a battle outnumbered and unable to escape made her stomach drop. She’d have to ask him more about that later.
“And the last one?” she asked.
“To marry for love, of course.” His voice fell softer than a spring rain. “But you knew that one already.”
A flush warmth overtook her, despite the chilly evening, gone as soon as it came. “Those are all impressive feats. I find it difficult to believe that anyone could do those things, let alone enough men to create a band of warriors.”
“There’s a reason we number only eight. We lost a lot of men during the spear throwing and in the battle. And a good manymore were discounted for their inability to perform the other tasks.”
“How many did you begin with?”
“Over fifty.”
They sat a few minutes in silence once more. Astrid still didn’t want to leave just yet, but the cold threatened to overpower her desire to remain out by the river with Cormac. She shivered, rubbing her arms with her hands and trying to warm herself so they could sit a bit longer in peace. It felt different when she was alone with him, comforting and exciting all at once.
“Odin’s bollocks!” she swore when a violent shiver set her teeth to chattering.
Cormac chuckled at her outburst. He turned to her, his thoughtful eyes assessing as a softness overcame his face.
Astrid felt herself pulled toward him as though by a string.
His hand lifted, reaching for her.
Butterflies shot through her stomach. Was he going to pull her into his arms to warm her?
Did she want him to?
Their eyes met, and Astrid’s breath caught as his hand neared her. Had he gone mad?
But he changed course before he reached her, his hand shifting from her waist to float in front of her as an offering. “We should get you to a warm fire.”
Disappointment flooded Astrid. An odd thing, since it wasn’t like she wanted him to touch her. She took his hand, allowing him to help her up from the soggy ground, and they began the long uphill climb to Sitric’s hall.
“Tell me of Odin.”
She couldn’t have heard that correctly. “What?”
