Svanna returned the sceptical look with a steady one. ‘Technically, you are my foster-mother and, under Gaelic law, it makes us kin.’
Colour infused Astrid’s cheeks. Her good hand plucked the fur which covered her, sending it slithering to the rush-covered floor. Svanna bent to retrieve it.
‘He hasn’t formally asked.’ The Queen’s words were barely a whisper. ‘I doubt he ever will. Unlikely to. He may need…a peace-weaver, someone who can give him an heir.’
‘You do him a disservice.’ Svanna tucked the fur more firmly about Astrid. ‘He maintained a vigil beside your bed, shooing me away.’
Astrid’s eyes widened. ‘He did? I treated him badly when Agthir fell, you must understand. I couldn’t make any other decision for my country or my daughter. For both my girls.’
‘Marriage between you two is something both Maer and I desire.’ She gave Astrid a hard look.
Astrid struggled to sit up. ‘Are you proposing this marriage of convenience for my benefit?’
Svanna clasped her hands together until her knuckles shone white. ‘Rand is correct—an alliance with Tara will help in the present circumstances and the high king demands a kinship alliance. Only a fool would deny that.’
‘But you as a counter again? I thought you wanted to leave that behind.’
‘My choice is to be useful instead of merely existing.’ And she would be useful. She’d have a chance to have her own household and to raise a child, but she didn’t dare admit such dreams aloud when Astrid was so ill.
A single tear trickled down Astrid’s cheek. She wiped it away, muttering about potions. Svanna struggled to think of the last time Astrid had openly wept.
‘The smoke was stronger yesterday than you might think,’ Svanna said, handing her a clean cloth to wipe her eyes. ‘My eyes have been streaming off and on ever since.’
Astrid’s lips turned up into a watery smile. ‘This Randolfr who saved my life. The one you say you will be marrying. Do you like him rather than tolerating him?’
Svanna carefully rearranged the fur. Astrid was coming around to her way of thinking. ‘You live, thanks to him. The life debt needs to be repaid. He requires a kinship alliance to satisfy his king. The calculation is that simple. But yes, I believe we can forge a productive partnership. As you did with the late king Thorfi and the king before that.’
Astrid made a cat’s paw again and batted the remark away. ‘We are speaking of you, Svanna, not my compromises. You’ve spent a lifetime doing others’ bidding, including mine. Your mother wanted more for you than fetching and carrying for someone like me.’
‘Rand understands the necessity of a political marriage. He buried his heart with his wife, but he has a daughter who must need a mother. I can be that mother.’
‘I’m fond of you, Svanna. I, too, know what a political marriage entails. The loneliness can eat into your soul. My first marriage could be hard. Harder than my second one.’
‘Maer is the rash one. Always I pride myself on being sensible and taking a long view. Feelings of mutual regard can develop with time and effort.’ Internally, her heart screamed that she was settling too easily for far too little, but she silenced it. Love was far too expensive a commodity and she’d settled for a friendship of sorts. With Rand’s heart buried, he would agree to her suggestion to make the marriage platonic. It would satisfy both their purposes.
Astrid’s nearly bloodless lips turned up. ‘The stories we tell ourselves when we are afraid to face the truth. Even you—no, especially you, my dear. Remember I didn’t raise you to be a coward.’
‘We will speak later.’ Svanna forced her feet to turn and walk away. The one thing she wasn’t was rash. She knew what it was like to live a lie, where every heartbeat offered the possibility of betrayal. She’d learned to dart about like a salmon in a river, seeking to evade the hook, flashing colour here and there but always turning at the final instant. She’d accepted long ago that love and passion happened to other people, people like Maer, not sensible people like her. She considered passion untrustworthy, and she had no expectations of that from Rand. Right now, she’d settle for a purpose, even if the purpose was raising another woman’s daughter while assisting in ensuring her own country’s security. Lacking in romance maybe, but worthy in its way.
After speaking briefly to the priest, she went out of the hospital and filled her lungs with fresh air. Even in the short time she’d been in with the Queen, things had altered.
The charred remains of the hall were being dismantled. In the square, a small platform for this afternoon’s ceremony was rapidly being erected. It was amazing how much could be accomplished in such a short span of time if people were properly directed.
An ever-dwindling number of petty kings and their entourages stood gossiping in small huddles. She suspected that they would stay until after the ceremony, but probably no longer than that. She made a point of lingering briefly near each group.
Their faith in Sigmund’s invincibility was badly shaken, or that was what she seemed to make out from the unguarded snippets she overheard.
The kings made the error that she could not understand Gaelic and forgot to guard their tongues while she was in earshot. She might not be able to speak it very well, but she could understand far more than she let on. Keeping her ears pricked for any more gossip, she made her way slowly towards the kitchens to ensure that enough food remained for everyone. All the little tasks that ensured no one had cause to complain about the hospitality on offer and use that as an excuse to depart.
If this chance slipped away from Sigmund, she suspected much would change and there would be no need for a political marriage for her.
‘Did you speak to Queen Astrid? Does she approve of your scheme?’ Rand asked from where he lounged against the wall in the hazy sunlight when she emerged from the kitchen.
The midday sun caught his forearms, making them dappled in gold. Despite her promises, the warm place in her middle began to curl about her. She hastily averted her eyes and tried not to think how strong they had felt around her when she’d woken up this morning.
Theirs was to be a marriage of political necessity, not one of carnal lust, she reminded that little insistent voice in the back of her mind. Despite their lingering kiss, he wasn’t interested in such things, not with her. Her value lay in the kinship alliance she brought, rather than in lust or burgeoning affection. It was the subtext of the discussion they’d had about his late wife. And he did need a mother for his little girl. She knew she could take Astrid’s foster-mothering as a guide and improve on it. Ensuring he understood precisely what was on offer was her immediate task.
‘The Queen and I conversed at length. Given time, I think she will make a full recovery. That priest’s ability to heal almost makes me want to believe in their Christian God.’
