Teague peeled himself away from the group of men surrounding her. It didn’t take Astrid long to understand his intent. Though he wove his way around through the thick crowd, it was clear he drifted toward his brothers.
All other distractions melted away as she watched him approach Cormac and Conan. She couldn’t see Teague’s face until he took a position behind the two warriors, leaning down and speaking to them. She couldn’t tell what was said, except that it was malicious, based on the sneer that crossed Teague’s lips and the fury that filled Conan’s face.
True to his patient nature, Cormac sat still, unflinching against the verbal assault. Teague’s narrowed eyes and the quick movements of his pursed lips told her exactly the nature of what he said, even without her hearing any of the words. Astrid hadwitnessed enough men posturing over one or another to know it when she saw it.
Up until that point in the evening, Astrid had been mildly irritated. Constant interruptions were one thing, but watching someone accosting Cormac elicited quite a different reaction in her.
The blood in her veins boiled.
She knew Cormac would say nothing. He would simply sit and take whatever drivel Teague spewed at him. That was how he always reacted or, rather, didn’t react, when she gave him a piece of her own mind. Cormac’s nose flared, his gaze hardening as his brother leaned further down to whisper directly into his ear.
That was the moment Astrid snapped. Enough was enough. Cormac may be just fine sitting there taking it, but Astrid couldn’t watch this happen. She stood, turning to the men surrounding her and clearing her throat to get their collective attention.
“I will begin meeting each of you this night to determine whether we might make a good match, should you be skilled enough to win this tournament. You will leave me be until you are summoned.”
Astrid didn’t wait for their reaction, instead marching around the end of the table by the same route she’d seen Teague use only moments earlier. She blew in like a storm, interrupting the conversation between the men. She stepped in between Teague and his brothers, crossing her arms and doing her best not to simply hurl insults straight at the man.
“Were you planning to actually try to win this contest?” she demanded. “Or did you come here simply to insult your own kin?”
Teague’s brows rose and his eyes widened, though he didn’t redden at the cheeks as Astrid often did when provoked.
“You will escort me to one of the quieter seating areas in this hall, and you will explain to me why I should even consider marrying a man who would treat his brothers in such a manner. Taunting an opponent is one thing, but seeking out and attacking your own kin is quite another. I should like to hear your justification of such behavior during a holiday celebration.”
Properly chastised, Teague quietly followed Astrid, though she caught the parting glare he left with his brothers. Cormac stared at her intently as Conan fought a fit of laughter.
They moved to the quietest of the four corners of the room, where her brother had set up areas perfect for conversation or gaming, or even working on embroidery. Furs covered a circle of couches and chairs, with extra blankets piled up so that one could be comfortable to the point of laziness. Two unfamiliar women occupied the space, but left without argument when Astrid requested privacy.
“My apologies, my lady,” Teague opened, taking a seat opposite her in the corner. “I swear to you it won’t happen again.”
His immediate apology and promise of improved behavior did a great deal to pacify Astrid’s bubbling fury. “Why would you do such a thing in the first place?”
“Years ago, when the three of them were fostering with Brian, my father had a falling out with him.” Teague shook his head and took a deep breath, as though fortifying himself. “It happened when he married Dunla, the night of the wedding feast. Brian and my father argued in the middle of everyone, shouting and making a show of it. After that father and I left, but Cormac and the other two stayed. We remained loyal to Malachy, the true high king. They chose to support Brian in his efforts to usurp that throne from him.”
“But until the argument, your father and Brian had been friends?” Astrid hadn’t heard this particular tale. All she knewwas that Brian and Cahill were enemies. He was the staunchest supporter of Brian’s rival Malachy.
“Aye,” Teague answered. “Good enough friends that my father offered my sister to Brian when he was in need of a wife, and sent all four of us to foster with him until we came of age.”
“Divided loyalties can cause great difficulty in a family,” Astrid observed, “but I would ask that you keep your family feud out of this tournament.”
“Of course, lady,” Teague agreed. “But I’m not the one you’re going to need to mind. It’s my father who’s bitter over it.”
That bit of information didn’t surprise Astrid, though she worried about the disruption it might cause in the future. If Cahill proved problematic, she or her brother or even her mother could speak with him. For the time being, she was pleased with her pacification of Teague, who had been far more civil than she expected considering how she’d approached him. Many men raised their hackles the moment a woman challenged them. She tried not to do it often but, as her brother liked to point out, keeping her thoughts to herself was one of her greater struggles.
Standing and following Teague back toward the rest of the merriment, Astrid hoped that her announcement encouraged the gaggle of suitors who’d been following her like goslings to disperse. Instead, she found every one of them standing there, staring at her expectantly.
Waiting for their turn.
Astrid sighed. This was going to be a long night.
Chapter Sixteen
The following morn,a storm broke out over Dyflin. Clouds as black as his father’s soul rolled in, darkening the skies and bringing sheets of rain, forcing everyone indoors.
Early in the day, before the tournament was set to begin, the Fianna met in their guest hall to discuss the appearance of Cahill and Teague. Cormac had ground his teeth through the entire conversation, but was glad of his companions’ willingness to help him and his brothers address the issue. Everyone agreed that Cahill had come to seek an alliance. They needed to know the terms of his proposal, and whether Sitric was inclined to accept them. By the end of their brief discussion, Diarmid promised to speak with Sitric and attempt to learn his feelings while dissuading him from the alliance. Cormac and Conan would speak with Teague and Cahill to discover what they could about their aims in Dyflin and do their best to deter them from allying with Sitric.
Undaunted by the prospect of a day trapped indoors, Sitric declared the beginning of thehnefatafltournaments. Servants produced a collection of boards that they set up at the long feasting tables in the center of the hall. Eight boards, four to a table, afforded the men space to pair off and battle one another in wit as opposed to strength.
Though guests came to watch the matches, the hall wasn’t filled to bursting while they waited out the weather. Grateful that he had room to breathe and think, Cormac had little difficultybesting his opponents. Most of the men hadn’t played the game before and had to spend time learning and practicing before their skill could truly be measured. Sitric recruited Astrid, Finn, Dallan, and several of his warriors to take a man and teach him to play the game properly.
