Page 108 of Ironling
“If only word would come, one way or another.” This waiting was its own kind of madness. Since learning of Jerrod’s plans almost a fortnight ago, nothing had been heard from either Connor Brádaigh or Lord Merrick.
The strain of so many unknowns was carved in the lines on Aislinn’s face and echoed in the whispers of the castle. The merriment had largely disappeared from the staff, meals much more hushed and eyes downcast. Many took their cues from Aislinn herself, and although she carried out her duties with determination, they all saw the growing concern that hung about her. It was a miasma that followed her from one part of the castle to another, almost visible when she attempted to smile but it never reached her eyes.
“It’ll take Liege Darrow time to get his party turned around.”
Hakon grumbled. “Doesn’t mean he can’t send word ahead.”He didn’t need Orek’s sense or agreeableness. His mood was darker than the rainy skies, and everything was wrong and nothing was right.
None of this is right. I should be with my mate.
His mood toward his friend wasn’t improved by Orek getting to lay with his own human mate each night.
Jealousy was an ugly thing, but it was amongst good company inside Hakon.
Still, he appreciated Orek’s steadfastness as he tried to let the rain dampen his temper and frustration. For now, there was nothing to do but wait.
When his mate needed him, Hakon would be ready.
The rain pattered against the windowpanes, an auditory distraction that Aislinn just couldn’t ignore. Sighing, she sat back in her seat, abandoning the letter she’d been crafting for days. Rain usually offered a pleasant rhythm to work to, but Aislinn would take any distraction she could.
She scowled at the growing pile of correspondence that needed her attention. From reports to orders to letters, it seemed like everyone in the Darrowlands needed something from her.
Aislinn spent most of her days sequestered in her father’s study, trying not to drown in paperwork. She ate and slept when she could, and even visited the bridge site to finalize plans with several of the guild-masters, but much of her life had condensed to that room.
She missed her study.
Her father’s was large and comfortable and befit the work she did and meetings she conducted. Fia had helped move over her most pertinent papers and notebooks, but still, she missed her space; how it smelled of parchment, how the light streamed in around midafternoon and filled it with a golden glow.
She missed her father himself, too. It should’ve been him sitting in that chair, writing those letters. There was still no word from him, nor Connor, and each day that passed without news frayed the delicate strands of her sanity a little more. She worried it wouldn’t be long before she was weak enough to snap.
So far, her fits had threatened but not manifested. There was always something to distract her. This needed doing, that accomplishing. Completing even a little task gave her some sense of control, and she was able to wrest herself back from the precipice of panic as she stroked the whittled rose with her free hand.
At least during the day.
At night, her mind had nothing to do but wander. Down the corridors of the castle, to his door.
She missed Hakon most of all.
She longed to write to him, to at least have one correspondence to look forward to, but he neither read nor wrote Eirean. With her guards, there was no question of going to him unseen. She knew her knights were discreet, but she didn’t know if Hakon would want such exposure.
Their separation was a dark chasm that grew with every day, and Aislinn worried that the wider it grew, the less likely it was that they could bridge it.
Externally, there was no lasting proof of their affair. She’d been dutiful in taking the silphium Fia brought her and had already had her monthly courses. Other than the marks on her heart, nothing betrayed that she’d begun to fall in love with thehalfling blacksmith.
She thought she could claim some of his affections—she’d no doubt that he cared for her, but what this distance did to such budding feelings, and what it meant as far as potentially being his mate, she couldn’t say. Since learning of the orcish mate-bond, the idea had stuck like a splinter in her mind, breeding doubts and worries.
There was a soft part of her, in her heart of hearts, that wanted to be Hakon’s mate. The one bonded to him. The sole recipient of his devotion.
If she only knew how he felt, whether it was a possibility at all…
What would I do?she asked herself, not for the first time.
She didn’t know if there was any possibility that she might be or become his mate nor if he even wanted that. And, perhaps most importantly, she didn’t know what she would do if she was. Could she give him that devotion and commitment in return?
If she was just Aislinn, yes. In a heartbeat. Without question.
But no matter what they said to each other in the soft darkness, she wasn’t just Aislinn.
She couldn’t say she would accept the mate-bond if it was offered to her, but she also couldn’t bear to decide that she’d deny it, either. The thought of giving him up was a dagger between her ribs, a sharpness that only abated if she turned her thoughts away.
