Page 134 of Ironling
Aislinn stood beside her father’s seat and folded her hands behind her back.
“Baron,” she said coolly.
Bayard stepped forward and bowed.
“I’m not a dog you can summon,” she admonished quietly.
“And yet here you are,” he whispered back.
A growl, suspiciously orcish sounding, caught in her throat.
“I’m told you wished an audience with me?”
“Indeed. I find I am impatient for your answer, Lady Aislinn, and my poor lover’s heart can’t be made to wait any longer with the threat of battle looming.” Dropping into an even deeper bow, Bayard spread his arms wide. “I declare my right to call a Choosing.”
Surprise sounded through the hall.
Aislinn’s was silent, her stomach dropping to her toes.
A Choosing was an ancient Eirean custom, unpopular nowadays but still sacred. At a Choosing, the suitor who called for it, as well as any other in attendance, could lay out their suitability, declaring why they were the best choice as they knelt before the intended.
The intended, often a noblewoman or princess, would then have to choose from the suitors. At least, in ancient times, she’d been forced to choose. Later Choosings allowed her to choose no one. However, once the suits were denied, they could never be made again. It forced chieftains to commit to an alliance or not, intractable children to marry, and scheming mamas not to string suitors along. There were also ballads and folk tales of how otherwise doomed lovers had used the tradition to plot theirunion.
If the potential bride chose a suitor, she sat upon their knee, and that was that. They were handfasted in promise to each other that very day.
Choosings were old-fashioned but legally binding. As a suitor with a provable history of pressing his suit, Bayard was allowed to call for a Choosing.
All eyes fell upon her, wide with morbid curiosity.
There was only one thing she could say. “I acknowledge your right and accept. But I invoke my right to a day to consider. And give any other suitors time to appear.”
A tick jumped in Bayard’s cheek, but he nodded in agreement. “Of course, my lady. We must do this right.”
She nodded back, sealing their pact. “Very well.”
Aislinn descended the steps numbly, mind whirring.
Fia rushed to her side. “Milady—”
“I must speak with Captain Aodhan. Now.”
Hakon waited as long as he was able, gleaning what he could from the whispers and gossip. The news was all over the castle within the hour, how the baron had called for a Choosing and Lady Aislinn had actually agreed. Preparations were underway amid all the current chaos of a castle soon to be under siege, and Hakon could hardly fathom the turn of events.
She’s run out of time—and so have I.
A forge left to burn became too hot, and so Hakon was all morning.
Finally, late in the afternoon, when he could stand it no longer, he went in search of her.
Hakon found her in her father’s study. He bit back his annoyance at the guard who stopped him and called inside, “My lady? The blacksmith wishes an audience.”
“Yes, let him in.”
Hakon pushed past the knights, relieved to find Aislinn alone.
She nodded behind him. “You may close the door.”
He did, theclickof the latch signaling they were alone. As alone as they ever were.
