‘One of those promises was to speak with Sigmund Sigmundson personally and deliver the message for his ears alone.’
‘Why should I grant this request? The high king of Eire’s writ does not rule here. Nor is it ever likely to.’
‘But Islay does trade with Eire. Islay wants to remain safe and at peace.’ He gestured to the coracles and willed her to stop being stubborn. He would speak to Sigmund Sigmundson one way or another. ‘Several petty kings in Islay, including the king of Gruinard, claim kinship to my king and would be distressed to hear how his emissary was mistreated, particularly by a member of Northern nobility. Do you wish to cause a rift within Islay, my lady the Queen’s daughter? Is your position with Lord Sigmund that secure?’
She worried her bottom lip, turning it the colour of an Irish autumn dawn. She was truly lovely in a marble statue sort of way, which made her unmarried state all the more interesting. Why? What was wrong with her that no man had won her hand? Did she fancy capturing Sigmund herself? Rand was tempted to enlighten her that Sigmund had confided that he intended to remain single for the rest of his days. Apparently, his heart belonged to a woman who had betrayed him. But Rand also knew this Svanna would learn soon enough.
‘Islay wishes to remain at peace,’ she said at long last. ‘Lord Sigmund will ensure that this happens.’
‘Good to know, but you are asking the wrong question.’
Her brow knitted. ‘The wrong question?’
‘Not if Islay is at war with anyone, but does anyone wish to make war with Islay and Tara? And if so, will the kings require a strong commander to lead the men of Islay or will they give up without a fight, seduced by promises of golden treasure from Dubh-Linn?’
‘Peaceful trade is beneficial to both Islay and Dubh-Linn,’ she said, tilting her nose in the air. ‘Why should it be in peril if you do not speak directly with Lord Sigmund?’
He could feel the conversation slipping away from him. Perhaps she truly did not know who was now in charge of Dubh-Linn and why they bore the new nickname the Dark-Foreigners or Dubhghaill. It had nothing to do with their appearance and everything to do with the black-hearted brother Drengrson. Turgeis had been particularly ruthless in his dealings with some of Tara’s people, including a suspected poisoning of one of Rand’s closest friends at court, a few months back.
He knew he had to give her part of the king’s message and hope that she wasn’t already aligned with the trio who had given him much trouble in recent months.
‘You know about the Dark-Northmen, the ones who have taken over Dubh-Linn? The ones we call the Dubhghaill, or Dark-Foreigners. They have no love for Gaels of any sort.’
‘The need for trade remains. The great whirlpool swirls to the North, making passage difficult, particularly in the winter months. Islay controls the safest route.’ She sent him a condescending smile, confirming Rand’s suspicion that she knew little about what had happened in Dubh-Linn and cared less. She was the sort of woman he generally loathed—ice-cold, complete with an exaggerated sense of self-importance and political acumen.
‘A far more serious and ruthless threat to peace than any Northmen before.’ He willed the Ice Maiden to comprehend the danger that would descend on them if they ignored this threat.
‘You wish to unsettle me.’ She gave a firm nod. ‘Dark-Foreigners indeed. Who are they, precisely?’
‘The Sons of Drengr is what they call themselves.’
She swallowed hard and put her hand to her throat. ‘The three sons of Drengr?’
‘The very same. Turgeis is reputed to be the brains and the other two the brawn.’
‘I…we all…had assumed they had gone east to make their fortune,’ she whispered.
‘Obviously not.’ He paused, allowing her to absorb the news. ‘My king considers the news vital for Sigmund Sigmundson’s prospects.’
‘He does?’
Rand carefully shrugged. ‘Máel Sechnaill sent me to warn him. A personal message from me, someone Sigmund once knew intimately.’
‘Why don’t you trust me?’
He looked her up and down, allowing his gaze to trace her curves. ‘Do you expect me to answer that?’
Her cheeks flushed, proving that she was human after all. ‘I suppose not, but Halfr—that is to say Sigmund Sigmundson—will be busy for a long while yet.’
The fact that she had nearly called Sigmundson by another name intrigued him. Unsettled, she had made a mistake.
He put his hands behind his back and concentrated on breathing. One mistake often led to another, and he needed an advantage, given the debacle of the elopement. ‘We’re in no hurry and are prepared to wait.’
‘Some of the petty kings have cause to fear the Northmen.’
Rand swallowed the obvious answer, pointing out that Sigmund was from the North and had been elected high king. ‘We are not asking to attend whatever feast is planned. We can wait elsewhere.’
‘You could always leave. Return in a few days’ time.’
