Page 23 of Ironling
She hated how petulant she sounded even to her own ears. And how small.
Merrick’s brows drew low in concern. He offered his hand in comfort, but Aislinn sat back in her seat, out of his reach.
“We must see this through, kit. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not ready to be Liege Darrow.”
“We both know your brother rarely carried out his duties—you’ve been in charge of Dundúran since you were small.”
I shouldn’t have had to be. I shouldn’t have to be now.The words squeezed her throat until she could hardly breathe.
“It’s not the same.”
“It’s just this once more. It has to be done.”
“Father—”
Merrick shook his head once. “I’m decided, kit. This needs doing. You’ll get on fine, you always do.”
To her horror, hot tears pricked her eyes. When she stood to leave, he gaped up at her.
“Kit—?”
Upset unsettled her stomach, what food she’d eaten churning around inside her in a tempest. Her skin felt too tight, her throat, her chest, her very heart squeezing past discomfort.
Fates, not again!
Rounding her chair, she hastened from the high table and made for the side door, left ajar by one of the serving maids.
Why must he leave?Always her father had to find peace outside Dundúran, outside the Darrowlands. He made something good out of his grief, but why did it have to beout there,so far away?
Don’t go,the girl inside her always begged.Don’t leave me bymyself.
Aislinn could hardly see through the watery blur of her gathering tears as she hurried through the castle corridors, but then, she didn’t truly need to see. She knew every stone of this castle, every nook and corridor and hidey-hole.
Her whole life was in this castle, all her hurts and secrets and projects.
She’d left the Darrowlands only twice in her whole life. If Liege Darrow was needed at court in Gleanná, someone had to stay behind and steward, and that was never Jerrod.
Aislinn will see to it. Aislinn will take care of it. Aislinn will understand.
And she did. No matter the cost, no matter how she laid awake at night counting the things she had to do and dreading most of them.
She couldn’t disappoint her parents. They’d given her so much, been so good and patient with her—she could oversee the home they built and loved. She could help her brother until he learned for himself. She could she couldshe could—
Aislinn sobbed. At first, she’d thought to flee to her study, but the stones of the castle seemed to warp, closing in around her. Aislinn picked up her skirts and pace, hurrying down down down into the west bailey below.
The night air was cool on her skin, damp from her flight and contained tears. Her breaths came in great heaves, each a battle to keep her dinner in her stomach.
Hand clasped over her racing heart, Aislinn slowed to an aimless walk. She shut her eyes tight, against her tears, against her reality.
Already she barely kept her head above the surface with all her tasks and duties. There was the new bridge to plan, too, and soap cakes to source, and two kitchen staff were leaving soon and would need replacements, and more otherly folk hadsent petitions asking for an audience, and she still had to meet with the bricklayer and stonemason guild-masters to start negotiations for the supplies for the bridge, and Brenna would always have something for her, and she needed to draw up plans for the rose garden and and and—
“Are you well, my lady?”
Aislinn gasped, skirts snapping as she jerked toward the deep rumble.
She’d come to a stop in the center of the bailey and blinked owlishly at the voice coming from the smithy. Hakon the handsome blacksmith sat on a stool just outside the well-lit smithy, his elbows on his knees as he bent over something in his hands.
