Alarr sobered as he realised what they were asking. They wanted him to stay at Clonagh with Breanne. Only a man of honour and strength could rule over a small kingdom. He held Breanne close, and though he had never imagined such a life would be possible, he would do anything to remain at her side.
Four days later
Breanne stood beside her father, the immense joy swelling up within her. Feann’s expression held a tight emotion and he ventured, ‘You’re certain that wedding this man is what you want.’
She nodded, and smiled, feeling as if her heart would soar out from her chest. ‘It is.’ Her only regret was that Alarr’s brother Rurik was not here, though she had sent a message to Killcobar. Likely, he was on a ship already, journeying to Northumbria, in search of answers. But she hoped he would return to visit.
Breanne wore a gown of deep green with a golden torque around her throat. Her hair was braided back with flowers, and the thought of her wedding brought a surge of emotions brimming up within her. Alarr meant everything to her, and she could hardly believe that they would be married this day.
‘King Cerball will not like this union,’ her father warned. ‘He wanted you to wed an Irish ally.’
‘But you will intercede for me, won’t you?’ She met his gaze with her own fervent hope.
‘I will speak with him,’ Feann promised. ‘But I cannot say that Cerball will approve. If you allow his soldiers to stay for a time, he may relent and call them back, once he is certain there is no threat.’
Breanne didn’t like the thought of the ringfort remaining occupied by Cerball’s guards. And yet, she also understood that it was a means towards peace and a compromise was necessary. In time, perhaps she could convince the king to send them away.
‘I hope that will not take long. The people feel uneasy with so many outsiders.’
Her father nodded with understanding. ‘It will take time for them to accept the changes. But so long as you remain queen and appoint a small council of advisors, it will suffice.’ One of the terms of their marriage contract was that Alarr had sworn to let her rule over Clonagh. He had admitted to her privately that he agreed with her father. It was easier for the people to accept an Irish queen than a foreigner. In the meantime, Alarr intended to oversee their defences and protect the ringfort from harm.
Breanne reached out to take her father’s hand. Feann walked with her from the small dwelling and led her outside. Alarr was waiting for her, but she could see the apprehension on his face. Not from the marriage, but likely from memories of his previous wedding ceremony. His gaze shifted around the ringfort as if searching for invisible threats.
He wore his Lochlannach attire of a woollen tunic, leather armour and dark leggings. She was not at all displeased, for she was about to marry a warrior. This was his custom, and she was proud of his physical form. His dark hair was wet, and his face held the stubble of a dark beard. Around his throat, he wore a bronze necklace with small hammer pendants. It gave him a wild appearance, and a rush of desire filled her up inside. Later this night, she would welcome the chance to feel his hardened muscular form against hers.
But when Alarr caught sight of her, his expression transformed. There was wonder in his eyes, as if he could not believe she was standing there. She smiled at him, and he gave an answering smile. When he took her hands, she squeezed his in reassurance.
‘I love you,’ she whispered.
‘I love you,’ came his answer. ‘And Freya herself could not be more beautiful.’
Before the ceremony could begin, there was the sound of an approaching horse. To their surprise, the gates opened, and a single rider drew near.
He dismounted and pushed his hood back. Alarr’s face held surprise and happiness when he caught sight of his brother Rurik. The younger man hurried towards them. ‘Did I miss the wedding?’
‘Not yet,’ Breanne answered. ‘I am so glad you were able to be here.’
‘As am I.’ Alarr gripped his brother’s forearms and smiled.
‘Your bride sent a message, and I could not refuse.’ He drew back and nodded. ‘I wish you both joy in your marriage.’ Then Rurik returned to stand by the other guests.
Happiness overwhelmed her with emotions, and she struggled to hold back happy tears. The priest began the words of the marriage rite, and at last, Alarr spoke his vows. ‘In the sight of the gods, I take you as my wife, Breanne. I grant you my protection, and I will provide for you and our children. With Freya’s blessing, I swear to honour you.’
The tears did fall, then, although she was smiling in the midst of them. The thought of Alarr becoming her husband brought a tender ache to her heart.
Breanne met his gaze and spoke. ‘In the sight of the gods, I take you as my husband, Alarr. I will make a home for you and give you children, with the blessing of your gods and my own.’
He gripped her hands tightly, and when she finished her vow, she could see the intense love in his eyes. He would never abandon her, and she had complete trust in him.
The priest gave his blessing and then instructed Alarr to give her a kiss of peace. He did, and she embraced him fully, so grateful to be wedded to this man. But more than that, she was thankful that he had turned aside his vengeance and had learned to live in peace with Feann. She turned to her foster father, and whispered, ‘Thank you.’
Alarr led her to the centre of the
