Page 21 of Ironling
“Not much,” admitted Aislinn, “just the bread. I couldn’t stay long helping, there were another three guild-masters who requested an audience, and we’re still trying to recover our stores of soap cakes after the council meeting.”
In truth, it was a bit of a blessing that they hadn’t enough soap to continue washing thevolumesof bedding used to accommodate Dundúran’s many guests last week. So many staffwere needed for laundry that other tasks had fallen to the wayside. The gardens were going unkept, the corridors unswept. Hugh and Brenna were united for once in their chagrin.
Not a situation Aislinn wanted on her hands.“Leave the bedding that hasn’t been washed until we can get more soap. Our things must come first if we have enough for an errant guest.”Brenna hadn’t liked that answer, her lips pinching, but Aislinn would much rather she, her father, and the staff had clean underthings than all the extra bedding usually kept in the vast linen cupboards was clean and ready for a possible guest.
If it means we can’t accommodate more guests, all the better.
She didn’t tell Brenna that, of course.
All of it only proved her point that having too many guests was a formula for upheaval. Unclean bedding and a lack of soap had upended the balance of Dundúran Castle, and Aislinn wouldn’t rest easy until that balance was restored. She’d already lost two nights’ sleep over it.
The thought of ever having to receive a royal visit, when a member of the royal family stayed with their courtiers indefinitely, sent a shudder of horror down Aislinn’s spine.
“Ah yes,” Merrick said. “I’ve heard rumblings of this soap cake crisis. Brenna is none too happy.”
“When is Brenna ever happy?” Aislinn muttered. She didn’t mean to be uncharitable, but little sleep rendered her cranky and short-tempered.
“Point taken.” Merrick pulled apart a bit of bread, nodding appreciatively as he chewed. “Another excellent effort, kit.”
“If only every problem was solved with a little kneading.”
“Eh, it often is. Just in the more metaphoric sense.”
Aislinn grumbled, making her father laugh. His jolliness lifted her spirits a little, and she decided to put her crankiness away for a while, her tasks and duties, too, and simply enjoy ameal with her father.
It was one reason why her father always insisted on taking evening meals together. It was a time to slow down, talk. He invited any staff who wished to eat in the dining hall to join them, five long tables laid out for the staff with cutlery and deep wells of stew, mounds of bread, and plates of whatever feast Hugh pulled from his ovens.
Watching the cheery talk of their people improved Aislinn’s mood a little more. For all that she worried, her people were content. They rose to the challenge of the council meeting every season, and they’d all earned this respite.
“Well,” Merrick said when he neared the end of his meal, “we may be lacking soap cakes, but we’re rich in horseshoes. The new blacksmith is proving very industrious.”
Aislinn’s cheeks bloomed with heat, and she hid her face behind her goblet. The sip of mead wetted her throat but didn’t cool her blush.
“Hakon is very talented. And driven,” she said, hoping her father couldn’t hear how her heartpitter-patteredat the mention of their handsome new blacksmith.
She wouldn’t soon forget the sight he’d made that night in his forge, lit by firelight as his strong arms brought the hammer down on the iron. She’d lingered in the doorway, mesmerized by the methodical rhythm of his work, and although she didn’t enjoy loud noises, somehow it wasn’t so bad, the sparks that flew from the iron exciting, and the sure way he handled it enthralling.
“He is indeed,” Merrick agreed. “Though I fear Fearghas is setting him too many tasks.”
“Hopefully not. I’ve asked him to make me something already.”
Her father made a noise of interest as he sipped his mead.
“A pair of shears. Morwen said I wasn’t allowed another pairof hers, and I’ll need something strong to get those brambles under control. The blooms are almost finished, so they’ll need to be trimmed down for their winter dormancy.”
“For your mother’s garden?”
Aislinn realized too late that she’d not mentioned wanting to tame the garden to her father yet. She knew he’d have no objections, but any mention of Róisín always brought a somber pall to Merrick’s face.
Just as it did now.
“Yes,” she answered softly. “I…it’s a peaceful place to sit. It reminds me of her.”
Not looking up from his goblet, he traced the rim with his thumbnail. “Good. It will be nice to see it restored to its former glory. But wouldn’t you rather Morwen and her staff took care of it?”
“No, I…I want to do it.”
Finally, her father met her gaze. A look passed between them, short in length but significant in depth. Merrick reached out to squeeze her hand. “All right, kit,” he said. “Let’s see what you can do.”
