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Afew days passed. Fiona tried to avoid Varrik as much as she possibly could because she didn’t want to let slip about the betrothal. She also thought it was better to stop herself from seeing him because she didn’t want to be reminded of the life she was being taken from. The Vikings would immerse themselves in this life, in this clan, and she would not be there to witness it. She wondered if, in a few years when she returned to this place, it would be recognizable at all.

There was an awful feeling of dread in her stomach. It twisted into knots, and it felt as though her entire body was going to fold in on itself as she waited for Laird Fletcher to arrive. He came in a black carriage. Stepping out, he was as thin as a winter tree. His dark cloak billowed around him, and he walked with a hunch. His eyes were as big as an owl’s, and his slender cheeks gave his face the appearance that it was entirely out of proportion. It didn’t bode well for Fiona, as she imagined the son would resemble the father.

Laird Fletcher was welcomed in turn. He saved a special embrace for Lotta, and then when he reached Fiona, he cupped her hands and kissed her on the cheek. His lips were thin, his breath a whisper against her flesh.

“Ye are lovelier than Lotta described. I’m sure ye will make my son a happy man, and ye will bring lots of joy tae the Fletcher clan,” he said before he caught himself. “Oh, but I am getting ahead of myself. There is much tae be discussed yet,” he said, taking his seat beside Laird Callan.

Wine and food were brought in as the men discussed the terms of the arrangement. Fiona hated sitting there, unable to do anything, not even to speak up because her words wouldn’t have made any difference. In Highland law, the father and the laird held all the power.

“Now, what exactly are ye proposing?” Laird Callan asked.

“It’s my hope that ye will allow yer daughter tae come and live with the Fletcher clan, tae marry my son and strengthen the alliance between our two people. Our families hae lived here for generations. We are as much of this land as the rocks and the trees around us, and yet we hae both seen much change already in our lifetimes. If we are nae careful, we will get left behind by the winds of time. Other clans are getting stronger, and Vikings continue tae come from Norway. It is just a matter of time before we are swallowed up and there is nae land for any of us. When that time comes, it’s important for the old clans of the Highlands tae stand taegether as one. We can protect each other, defend each other. We will be stronger taegether than we are alone,” Laird Fletcher said.

Fiona groaned inwardly. Her hands were in her lap, and she stared at them, wishing that somehow the floor would open up and swallow her whole, taking her away from this nightmare. Laird Fletcher knew how to say what her father wanted to hear, and she wondered how much forewarning Lotta had given him. Laird Callan was paranoid about the strength of the clan, and Laird Fletcher’s words only spoke to this feeling.

“And I’m assuming that along with my daughter, ye would expect tae share resources?” Laird Callan asked.

The only hope Fiona had was that Laird Fletcher would become too confident and ask for too many things, but sadly, that hope was dashed quickly. “Of course, because the stronger we are, the stronger both of us are, and the agreement would gae both ways. I would always want tae help out my ally with whatever I could. And, in time, if our territories expand tae the point where we hae tae join taegether, I would be willing tae accept becoming a part of yer clan. It’s only fair that the bigger clan should retain superiority,” Laird Fletcher said.

Even Laird Callan raised his eyebrows at this, and Fiona knew it was far too big a carrot to dangle in front of him.

“Well, it’s clear that ye hae thought about this a lot. Everything seems tae be in order. Indeed, times are troubled in the Highlands, and we must stick taegether if we are tae prosper. I am happy tae agree tae yer proposal,” Laird Callan said.

There were cheers all around the small room as the witnesses clapped. The two lairds shook hands and smiled at each other, as though they had each come away winning something from the bargain. In a sense, they had. It was only Fiona who had lost. She had lost her liberty, her future, and there was nothing she could do about it. But there was one other person there whose smile was widest of all: Lotta. She and Fiona had always been opposite to each other, and the same was true now. Where Lotta was grinning, Fiona was sinking into despair.

The worst was yet to come.

Fiona had to sit there as everyone congratulated her and each other on this most joyous news. She forced a smile and tried not to make things difficult for her father, although all she wanted was to rush out of there and run far away into the depths of the forest where she could do as she pleased.

But as it turned out, not everyone was indeed happy. Varrik came thundering into the room, and his presence was enough to give everyone pause for thought. Even though he was a part of the clan, technically speaking, everyone reacted as though he wasn’t welcome. Laird Fletcher recoiled at the sight of him, which gave Fiona some amusement at least.

“Is there something I can help ye with, Varrik?” Laird Callan asked.

“Actually, there is,” Varrik said. “I have heard about this betrothal, and I want to know what it means for my people. We were brought here to make your clan strong, but you now seem to be forming an alliance. Are we not needed any longer?” he asked.

It was hardly the storming, rousing speech that Fiona had hoped from him. A part of her had held out for something a little more passionate, something about how she deserved to marry who she wanted, and perhaps even a sign that he had feelings for her. But that had been too much to ask, evidently. She couldn’t blame him, really. It wasn’t as though she had done anything to encourage such feelings, although now she wished she had. It would have been nice to offer her father a choice of suitors.

“There are more ways tae be strong, Varrik. I can assure ye that this changes nothing between our arrangement,” Laird Callan said.

“Nay? What about if the clans join and Laird Fletcher’s people come to live here? There aren’t enough houses. I can guess at who would be the first people to be asked to leave,” Varrik said with impassioned words. “I don’t want to cause trouble, Laird Callan, and I’m grateful for the hospitality you have shown us so far, but it seems as though there are some lack of assurances regarding our future in the clan.”

Before Laird Callan could respond to Varrik’s concerns, Lotta rose from her seat.

“I believe I hae the solution tae yer problem, Varrik,” she said, striding out confidently, as though everything had worked out as she had foreseen. “I am half Viking myself. I know how difficult it can be for Vikings and Highlanders tae mix taegether, although my parents made it work. Now that Fiona haes been betrothed tae Laird Fletcher’s son, I would like tae propose another marriage, between myself and Varrik. It will tie the Callan clan and the Vikings taegether and will ensure that the Vikings dinnae get neglected in changing circumstances.”

Fiona let out a dry laugh. It was as though everything had been wrapped up in a pretty bow for Lotta, while Fiona was shackled to a future she didn’t want. To her dismay, everyone seemed to think Lotta’s notion was a grand idea, and it was met with rapturous applause. She was the only one who wasn’t smiling, although that wasn’t quite true. Varrik turned to face her, and his lips were not curled either, but she found it impossible to discern the look in his eyes.

The dry laugh wasn’t noticed by anyone around her because their spirits were all too light, each one of them only seeing happiness and paradise where Fiona felt nothing but dread. She wanted to rise up and rally against this grim turn of events, but she knew she was powerless. She was but a pawn in this game of alliances.

And then there was Varrik. When she looked at him, she saw a glimpse at a future that would never be. A lump formed in her throat as he turned his gaze away from her, and still, she did not know what stirred within his heart. Should she have been more forward with her emotions? Perhaps then he would have stood against this, and the pressure from the Vikings might have been enough to give Laird Callan pause for thought. Fiona had held herself back, though, and kept her feelings to herself.

“I suppose I have no choice but to accept to protect the needs of my people. It’s a very generous offer, Lotta,” Varrik said, bowing his head out of respect for the young girl. “I’m sure you will make a good wife, and it will be pleasing to have someone who understands the Viking ways.”

Lotta almost burst with happiness at this. She rose abruptly from her chair and rushed over to Varrik, making a show of clasping his hands and kissing him on the cheek. The sight of her lips brushing against his cheek was almost too much for Fiona to bear. She felt her nails digging into her palm as she curled her hands into tight balls. Lotta then turned to Fiona and flashed her a gleaming smile.

“Isn’t this wonderful, Sister? We can even hae a joint wedding!” she said.

Everyone, especially Laird Callan, seemed to like this idea. They clapped and cheered. Fiona wondered how her life had reached a point where she was condemned to a life with a man she did not know and did not care for and how everyone seemed to think it was a fact that should be celebrated. The thunderous applause created a cacophony within her mind, and she closed her eyes, wishing that when she opened them again, she would find herself in her bedchamber, having woken from a terrible nightmare.