He would make it worth their while.
For a moment, they drank in silence as the hall bobbed with life around them. Soldiers came and went on various tasks, and food was eaten as soon as it was brought, pulled off trays by celebratory soldiers.
“So, we send her off and settle in for a fight,” Cormac concluded comfortably. “Keep your balls and pretty arse safe.” He grinned and lifted his mug in toast.
Aodh returned the gesture but didn’t drink. “Send who off?”
Cormac hooked a thumb at the ceiling. “The lady.”
“Ah.”
Cormac stilled, much as Ré had earlier, then turned his bearded face to Aodh and blew out an ale-gusted breath. “Christ on the Cross, you’re planning something, aren’t you?”
Aodh sighed. “When I have a plan, do I not tell you?”
“’Tis precisely what I’m sitting here wondering: ‘What in God’s holy name is he about to tell me he’s planning?’”
Aodh drank. “I asked her to marry me.”
Cormac opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, then flung out a hand in wordless astonishment and fell back in his chair. It rocked under the impact.
“Only the saints could persevere in the face of you, Aodh,” he muttered. “How your mam did, I’ve no notion.”
Aodh looked away, across the room, into the hearth. “She did not. She died when I was nine.”
Cormac eyed him darkly. “You killed your mam,” he muttered, then downed his entire mug in silence. It took three swallows. Aodh wondered idly how many it would have taken Katarina.
“Ré is not going to be happy,” Cormac warned darkly.
“Nay, he is not,” agreed Aodh, just as Ré himself appeared at the top of the stairs.
“I’m not telling him,” Cormac said peevishly.
“You won’t have to.”
The Scot snorted. “Aye, he’ll see the madness in your eyes himself.”
They looked across the bustling hall at Aodh’s second-in-command. Companion in intrigues that covered the map from Paris to Cadiz, Ré knew Aodh’s predilection for mayhem better than anyone. Surely, if anyone would be prepared, it would be Ré.
Now, dirt-stained, sweating and smiling, Ré came to them, grabbed one of the mugs, and sat facing them, straddling a small bench. He drank deeply, then wiped his mouth with his forearm and grinned.
Neither of them returned it. Aodh kept looking at the fire.
Ré’s grin faded. He squinted into the silence. “What?”
Cormac gestured across the table with his elbow. “Aodh’s lost his bleeding mind.”
“How this time?”
A beat of silence. “Says he’s going to wed her.” This, despite his earlier vow.
Ré continued to stare at Cormac for a moment, then turned his clear gray eyes to Aodh. “I understand the lady holds certain…charms.”
Aodh dragged his gaze off the fire.
“But can we not focus on the battle at hand?” Ré finished, his words and gaze hard.
Aodh smiled grimly. “You are not paying attention. She is the battle.”