Foxmask Read Free Page B

complicated look. Eyvind took his arm away from Creidhe’s shoulders and clasped her hand instead.
    â€œDid you talk to Margaret about this, Creidhe?”
    â€œNo. She told me to wait until Thorvald was ready to tell me. But . . .”
    â€œBut you couldn’t wait.” Nessa’s tone was dry, but not unkind. “Creidhe, this is Margaret’s story, and Margaret’s secret. It was her choice to wait and tell Thorvald when she judged he was ready. Those were terrible times. To dwell on what had happened was to set a barrier between your father’s people and mine that would keep us at enmity all our lives, and would be passed on to our children and our children’s children. There had been enough hatred and cruelty. We made the decision, in those early days, to put it behind us. We didn’t forget; one carries such memories in one’s mind forever. But we chose to move on, all of us. I suppose now it will be discussed more widely. Thorvald is sure to talk to his friends, you included.”
    â€œEanna knows what happened, Creidhe,” Eyvind said quietly. “One cannot follow the calling of priestess without the knowledge of history. She has kept it to herself, as we promised Margaret. That was for Thorvald’s sake.”
    Creidhe said nothing. It hurt, sometimes, to be nobody special, even though she had no great ambitions for herself. It hurt even more that her parents hadn’t trusted her to keep a secret.
    â€œI had an interesting talk with a man called Gartnait at the Thing on Sandy Island,” Eyvind remarked, apparently changing the subject completely. “A chieftain from the Northern Isles, a fine-looking young fellow ofaround two-and-twenty, very well-mannered and courteous. He asked me about you, Creidhe. It seems talk of you has spread quite far.”
    â€œTalk? What talk?”
    Eyvind smiled. “Nothing bad, or I’d not have spoken so fair of the fellow. You were described as a model of young womanhood, highly skilled in all the domestic arts, and far from ugly into the bargain.”
    â€œEyvind!” Nessa frowned at him.
    â€œHis exact words were a good deal more complimentary than that. In fact, your virtues were enumerated at quite some length, but I won’t repeat them for fear of giving you a swollen head, daughter. It was clear the young man’s interest had been sparked by what he’d heard of you. He’s looking for a wife.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œYou’d have liked him, Creidhe,” her father said. “He was an honest, open sort of man, with a ready smile. And handsome—did I say that? You will need to start thinking of this some time soon. You know how important this is, not just for yourself but for all of us. For the islands.”
    â€œThis is not the first such inquiry your father has had,” Nessa put in.
    Creidhe stared at her mother, sudden hope making her heart race. Had Thorvald said something at last?
    â€œCreidhe,” Eyvind said quietly, “we wondered how you would feel about going away for a while, perhaps with your Aunt Margaret to chaperone you. A stay in the Northern Isles would do you good, expose you to a wider circle, allow you to mix and give you some respite from your domestic duties here. You work yourself very hard, my dear. A visit over the summer would be easy to arrange. We have friends there. I’m not pushing an alliance with this Gartnait; you’d meet many folk. It would enable you to be seen, and put you in a position to get to know both him and others. You could make your own judgments then.”
    â€œYou know the importance of a good choice,” Nessa said. “If we do not nurture the blood line, the identity of the Folk is quite lost. It is your children, as well as Brona’s and Ingigerd’s, who will carry forward the royal line.”
    Creidhe did know; one did not grow up in such a family without an understanding of the royal