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9

Lotta was waiting for Fiona when Fiona returned from patrol. Fiona was enjoying a secret smile after she had parted ways with Varrik. The patrol had been most enlightening for the young woman, who had gained a new and deeper insight into the Viking, who was proving himself to have more layers than the initial savage brute she had thought he was. His tale of his dream and his fears spoke to something in her heart, and she realized that she was sensitive to him. She wasn’t quite yet sure what to do with these feelings, but she was convinced they would work themselves out in a matter of due course. It also pleased her to know that Varrik didn’t have any designs on Lotta. He seemed like a man who appreciated someone like Fiona, and when he said that she was akin to a Viking, she glowed with pride, knowing what high praise it was coming from him.

Before she and Varrik had parted, she had told him that arrangements had been made for him and the other Vikings to live in the village. People had opened their homes to the newcomers, and it proved how kindhearted the people of the Callan clan were. Fiona realized that she had been coldhearted and too averse to new opportunities. She told herself that she needed to change her way of thinking as it was unfair to keep assuming the Vikings were no-good savages when they were going to be staying in the village either way.

While these thoughts were rolling through her mind, she returned home. Lotta was sitting at the table with a smug smile on her face, as though she was a cat that had just gotten some cream. Her father was there as well, leaning forward with an intrigued look on his face.

“Ah, Fiona! I’m glad ye hae returned. Lotta haes some important news or sae she says. She will nae tell me without ye being here,” Laird Callan said.

“That’s because it concerns Fiona,” Lotta said.

Fiona pulled out a chair slowly and sat down. There was a feeling of dread in her heart, and the look on Lotta’s face didn’t give her any reason to vanquish this feeling. Lotta tilted her head and smiled at Fiona, but in her eyes was spite, as though she had won a game that Fiona hadn’t realized they were playing. Fiona tried to maintain her composure and laid her palms flat out on the surface of the table to keep herself steady.

“Well, then I think Lotta should share it with us,” Fiona said, attempting to drive the truth out of Lotta so the agony would not have to be prolonged.

“I’m happy tae, my darling sister,” Lotta began, and the way she spoke only added to Fiona’s feeling of dread. “I paid a visit tae my old family friend taeday, Laird Fletcher, and he was most intrigued tae hear about the recent arrival of the Vikings. I think he was surprised that the Callan clan would hae tae turn tae these men in order tae be strong, and he was quite concerned that the clan could be in danger if more people realized how many people we hae lost in recent battles. Laird Fletcher’s clan is nae the biggest, but his people are hardy, and there hae been many fine warriors in his clan over the years. His son is no exception.

“Laird Fletcher and I were talking, and the conversation turned tae ye, Fiona, and I mentioned how old ye were and how ye are at the age of being married. He asked me tae bring back a message for ye and Da. He asked if Fiona would consent tae being married tae his son, tae bring the clans taegether in a formal alliance that would be of benefit tae both clans,” she said, dropping the last word as though it was a thunderclap sent down from the heavens.

Fiona felt a sinking feeling grip her heart. Nausea swam in her stomach and sweat beaded on her temples. If this had been a duel with a sword, she would have been able to triumph, but Lotta was skilled with her wits, and Fiona struggled to think of a way to break free.

“I’m sure that while that’s a flattering proposition, there would be a greater match for me, perhaps from a clan that could offer even more resources or men tae defend us?” Fiona said in stammering words, looking at her father. Her only hope was that Laird Callan would refuse this request out of hand, but it troubled her that he was taking his time to think about it.

“I’m nae sae sure,” Laird Callan said, tapping his finger against his lips. “I hae tae admit that it is time we should find ye a husband, Fiona. I hae been willing tae indulge ye a great deal in life, but it is time we move forward as a clan. We all hae tae dae our part, and forming alliances is yer duty as my eldest daughter. We cannae be tae ambitious. The Fletcher clan does hae a good standing in history, and their men can always be counted upon when times of battle come. They are also quite near tae us, allowing us tae pool our resources. Ye did a good job of bringing this tae my attention, Lotta. I shall hae tae think on this matter a great deal.”

“I thought ye might, Da, which is why Laird Fletcher is gaeing tae arrive here in a few days tae make a formal proposal. I hope that ye will be able tae see the wisdom in accepting this arrangement. I’m sure that we will all end up better off because of it,” Lotta said, flashing a dark glance at Fiona, along with a wicked smile.

Panic surged through Fiona’s heart, as though a raging tide was sweeping through her.

“Da, please, ye cannae dae this! I thought I would be given the chance tae find my own husband? I thought I was gaeing tae wait until I was ready tae be married?” She was unable to hide the tone of desperation from her voice.

Laird Callan sighed. “If things had remained as they were, then perhaps I could hae stayed true tae that promise. But my efforts tae find a bride hae been fruitless, and I cannae deny that ye are an asset tae this clan, an asset that we hae yet tae exploit. Getting married is just the way of the world, Fiona. It was always gaeing tae happen sooner or later, and if this can help the clan, then I dinnae feel it’s tae much tae ask of ye.”

Fiona started to speak again, but Laird Callan raised his hand to stop her abruptly. “I will hear no more of this. It is my decision tae make,” he said, and strode out of the room.

After he left, Lotta began to chuckle. The laughter rose from her like a plume of smoke from a fire, and soon enough, it filled the whole room. Fiona glared at her sister and pushed herself up from her chair. She circled the table, and like the wolf she had encountered earlier, she lunged at Lotta, slamming her hands onto the table.

Lotta stopped laughing.

“What kind of monster are ye that ye would dae this tae me?” Fiona spoke in a harsh voice, the words rushing out of her mouth like a torrent of fire.

“I merely haed a conversation with my friend. It was he who proposed the idea, and I thought it would be a good thing for the clan tae hae another ally. I mean…I would hae gotten married to the lad myself, but I am nae the eldest. Unfortunately, it relies on ye tae get married first. As Da said, this is just the way of the world,” Lotta said, still with the same smirk on her face.

Anger bristled through Fiona. It poured out of her eyes, and she was trembling, as though a storm was beginning to rage around her. If she had been more Viking, she might well have grabbed Lotta by the throat and thrown her to the ground, throttling her until Fiona had rid herself of this turbulent emotion that whirled inside her.

“Ye did this for yerself, nae for anything else. Dinnae lie tae me and pretend that ye did this for the clan,” Fiona said.

Lotta’s face twisted into something cruel and hard. “Fine. Aye, I did it for myself, and can ye blame me? I am nae gaeing tae sit around and wait for ye tae get married on a whim when I’m ready now. It’s nae right that ye should get tae indulge yerself. Either marry someone ye want or marry Laird Fletcher’s son. Just get married, and then I can get on with my life. I dinnae ken why ye are sae opposed tae it, Fiona. After all, ye always boast about how ye are willing tae fight and die tae protect the clan. Are ye gaeing tae stand there and tell me ye are nae prepared tae marry someone tae protect it?”

The question cut deep, and Fiona felt as though she had been slapped across the face. Lotta retreated away from the table, leaving Fiona alone in the room, with candles flickering all around her. Perhaps Lotta was right. Was Fiona just a hypocrite and only willing to protect the clan on her terms? Didn’t she have some sense of duty to the clan? And yet, it still seemed so wrong for her to get married to a man she didn’t even know, to live in a place she wasn’t fond of. She hadn’t traveled to the Fletcher village for a while, but from what she remembered, it was small and barren, with sparse forests and a cold wind that blew through it. She wanted more than this, but was it too late to find another way out? If things were in motion and her father was already considering the decision, then what else could she do?

Fiona was up bright and early training to try and clear her mind, although it wasn’t helping at all. When she struck her sword, she imagined that she was fighting Lotta and the rest of this cruel world. Why did she have to be consigned to marriage just because she happened to be the daughter of the laird? She wasn’t usually one to lament her fate, but in this instance, she found herself wishing that she was the daughter of a common man because then it wouldn’t have mattered who she married or when.

There was a special guest who arrived in the village, though, which caused some excitement. Emmel Hoffstad had traveled from his home on the islands to come and check up on how the Vikings were settling in. Fiona was called to greet him, as was Varrik, for Fiona had been put in charge of helping them to find a place to live.

“I hope that ye are settling in well,” Emmel said. “Ye are certainly looking well.”

“Thank you,” Varrik said. “It has been a nice change of scenery, although I have to admit that things have not exactly been as I thought they would be,” he said.