Page 14 of Ironling
When the meeting adjourned, she rose with her father to bow and thank the council for convening. Hands were shaken, pleasantries were exchanged, and the vassals left in what Aislinn considered decent spirits, considering the tone of the meeting when she’d arrived.
“They need to speak and be heard,”her father had explained when she’d questioned him on this, after attending her first council meeting.“Sometimes that’s all they need. Think of it as a lid being taken off a boiling kettle; some of the steam is released and the water is allowed to boil peaceably.”
Her father had a way with metaphors that Aislinn found invaluable.
Merrick settled back in his seat once the last vassal had left, so Aislinn rejoined him at the table.
“Well, let’s see what you were doodling,” he said.
Aislinn threw him a mock scowl before sliding her notebook over the table to him. “These are my initial ideas for the bridge.”
Her father looked between the pages of her models andmeasurements and notes, and Aislinn held her breath. She enjoyed immersing herself in her projects. The castle was littered with them, failures and successes both. She’d engineered a more effective irrigation system for the castle gardens, worked with the blacksmiths and draftsmen to create a more efficient mechanism for the drawbridge, drawn up plans to reroute the chimneys to help keep smoke out of the kitchen, and much, much more.
This bridge, though. It would be her biggest endeavor yet and would affect many of the people of Dundúran. She wanted it to be for the better. She wanted to help wherever she could. She might not be a beautiful, graceful noblewoman like her mother or Queen Ygraine, but she could and would use her talents and skills to better the Darrowlands however she could.
“Wide enough for three carts abreast?”
“Into town, out of town, and passing. Several guild-masters and merchants have complained about how it slows everyone getting across, not having that additional width.”
“Already spoken to the guild-masters, have you?” His hazel eyes, so like Aislinn’s own, flicked to her over the notebook, crinkling at the corners.
The knot in Aislinn’s stomach released.
“Yes, I wanted to get their input before committing to a design.”
Merrick took another look through the plans before handing them back to her. “Well, you know what I’m going to say, kit. Brilliant as always.”
Aislinn bit her cheek trying not to smile too widely. Making her father proud still felt as good as it did when she was a girl showing him her first clumsy wooden models of the catapult she wanted to make for getting rid of kitchen scraps.
“Thank you. I’m sensing ahowever,though.”
Merrick sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “You know full well thatwe’ll be accepting designs from several architects. The king is sending his own from Gleanná eventually.”
“If we have a plan, one based on the needs of the people who will use it, why wait for outside opinions?”
“Because it’d be rude otherwise. The king wants to seem magnanimous, so we must let him.”
“But…” Aislinn let out an annoyed huff. It was sosillyto delay plans just for the king’s feelings. Although, she wasn’t naïve enough to dismiss that if anyone’s feelings were important, it was a king’s.
“I know, kit. If you had your way, we’d have broken ground last week, no doubt.”
“And be well underway, yes.”
Merrick shrugged his wide shoulders in a tired heave. “I’m afraid you’ll have to humor me on this. We’ll get our bridge built—just not as quickly as you’d prefer.”
They spent a while longer discussing ideas and who should be brought into early discussions when it was finally time to begin building, and Aislinn hid her disappointment well, she thought. In truth, this bridge project promised a challenge, one she was anxious to take on. At least in this sort of duty, she was assured in her abilities to complete it well. Without any awkwardness or long-winded speeches.
She left her father outside the council chamber with the promise to continue their discussion over dinner tonight.
Skirts swishing around her ankles, Aislinn headed for the kitchens. The stress from attending the meeting and disappointment over not moving forward with her design had emotion welling inside her, uncomfortable, ugly feelings that she knew needed to be dealt with.
Her outburst in the rose garden had taken her aback and left her shaken. She couldn’t allow herself such a fit again, certainly not with so many of the vassals in residence still. She was keenlyaware that they all thought her an oddity—bookish, unmarried, informal, and lacking the social graces of her beautiful mother. It was one of her many duties now to instill confidence in them for her eventual position as Liege Darrow, and crumbling into a puddle of frustrated tears certainly wouldn’t do that.
One of the ways she controlled her emotions was helping in the kitchen. Cooking and baking made sense. Food, meals, were a sum of parts. Add this and that together, heat for a certain amount of time, and out comes food. She enjoyed the routine of chopping, the methodology of cooking.
Hugh, the surly head cook, hadn’t exactly enjoyed her presence in his kitchen at first, but he’d eventually been won over when Aislinn proved an unobtrusive help. That, and she’d never been the demanding type of noblewoman requesting braised swan an hour before dinner.
Walking with her notebook, Aislinn distracted her spinning thoughts with the golden views through the arched windows of the castle corridor. Late afternoon sunlight spilled through the diamond-patterned mullions, making the stone of the floor appear a quilt of gold. She loved this castle, especially at this time of day, the sky a saturated azure, the late-summer afternoon pleasant and vibrant.
