Page 149 of Ironling
If he was honest, though, the thought of her so close to danger was driving him to madness. His beast paced inside him, restless and unhappy. Hakon’s unease crawled just beneath hisskin, and he’d no patience for the other smiths when they told him the cuirass was good enough, to leave it.
Nothing could be justgood enoughfor his mate.
She had to be protected, safe. As safe as he could make her.
Although he wasn’t a master fighter himself, he would stand with her. He would be her shield, and if all else failed, all other defenses breached, at least she would have some plate and mail protecting her. They could stop a stray arrow and a glancing blow—he had to pray that was the worst she’d face.
His innards clenched painfully at the thought of even that.
She shouldn’t be in battle. She should be in our bed, safe and content. She should—
A soft hand lifted his chin and routed his stampeding thoughts.
He looked up to see her gentle gaze upon him.
“I can hear you thinking,” she said. Leaning down, she whispered against his lips, “It’s going to be all right. I know it.”
Hakon pulled in a long breath tinged with her sweet scent. He received her soft kiss, trying to let it calm him.
Fates, she was too good for him, for all of this. She deserved only good things, and after tomorrow, Hakon would ensure that’s all she received.
The threat to his mate ended tomorrow. Jerrod, his mercenaries, any who would question Aislinn’s position as heiress, they would meet his war hammer or fall to their knees. Nothing would be allowed to threaten or endanger or sadden her again. Instead, the Darrowlands, Eirea herself, would see just what Aislinn Darrow could do.
Tomorrow would be the end—and the beginning.
35
The day Aislinn had been dreading began with a drizzling fog that left droplets clinging to hair and noses. Her column of knights, soldiers, and warriors sniffled as they marched, their breath puffing in front of them.
Despite the drizzle, Aislinn’s chest burned with determination. Even though her darling betrothed had made a fuss even as they marched from the castle gates, Aislinn led the procession out of the city to the western meadows herself, ready to put an end to all of Jerrod’s scheming.
The ground at least wasn’t too soggy yet, and the mud wasn’t too thick, making their trek easier. She sought the good in anything she could, determined not to let the worry gnawing at her stomach get the better of her.
Her horse’s ears flicked back and forth, reminding Aislinn to relax her thighs and take a breath. Riding out mounted was a concession she’d made to Hakon and Captain Aodhan’s concerns. When Orek heard she would ride, he’d insisted Sorcha did, too, so her friend rode to her left while Hakon strode to her right, easily keeping pace with her horse.
Behind them marched the might of the Darrowlands, over six-hundred armed human fighters, as well as about a dozen half-orcs, a pack of five manticores, four harpies, one fae and his unicorn steed, and one dragon in his human shape. Allarion and the otherlies had met them at the city gates, solemn but sure.
Their presence meant the world to Aislinn, and she’d thanked each of them.
Captain Aodhan had wondered aloud if Theron, the dragon, might not shift to his larger form and bring the matter to an end with an undeniable show of force. The idea had shot excitement through Aislinn’s veins, but Theron declined, stating he couldn’t risk taking his larger form and rumor getting back to his brothers that he was now in Eirea. Hakon had looked as though he wanted to argue, but Aislinn accepted Theron’s wishes, thanking him for offering what aid he could.
From her left, Captain Aodhan came riding on his own mount. “Here is suitable, my lady,” he told her before breaking off again to begin organizing their forces.
Aislinn and her party stopped in the middle of the meadow as the Darrowlands soldiers formed ranks on either side. Within a few short moments, they spanned the entire meadow, blocking the road and cutting off any easy passage toward the city.
As her troops formed up behind her, Aislinn tried not to fidget. The hauberk and cuirass encasing her torso were heavy and unfamiliar, and she had an incessant itch on her shoulder she couldn’t get to. She was glad of the protection the armor offered, but she felt strange inside it, as though it was finally acknowledging the threat that came for her today.
Nerves jittering in her stomach, Aislinn looked to Hakon, her steadfast halfling. He was already looking up at her, his face grim but determined. He wore a complement of boiled leather armor—gorget, cuirass, greaves, and vambraces—with a sash of Darrow blue from shoulder to hip. A war hammer sat strappedto his back, and an array of knives, daggers, and a short sword hung from his belt.
He looked positively dangerous, but his touch was gentle when she reached out her hand for his. They both wore gloves, and Aislinn missed the feel of his skin on hers, yet his warmth seeped through the leather.
Then the ground beneath them began to tremble.
Aislinn’s horse shifted nervously beneath her, and she had to pull her hand away to soothe the animal.
Over the next rise, a figure appeared. Then another, another, a whole line of them, from one side of the meadow to the other.
Heart jumping into her throat, Aislinn watched as a mounted force descended into the meadow on its opposite side.
