Page 32 of Ironling
Outside the castle, into the fresh air of the countryside, on the way to see her best friend in the whole world. That spelled for a good day, even if she’d had to argue with Brenna, and then Captain Aodhan, to make it happen. She wouldn’t be denied—especially since Sorcha and Orek were finally back from their latest trip south and their wedding was quickly approaching.
Sorcha assured Aislinn that things wouldn’t change very much after the wedding; she and Orek would be moving into a new house near the Brádaigh family home, but that was it.
Aislinn had had enough other friends wed to know this wasn’t true. Those noblewomen she’d counted as friends, although not as dear to her as Sorcha, had made stately visits around the Darrowlands and hosting banquets at Dundúran bearable. Now, all were married, many with child or onto their second or third.
Life had a way of changing, and Aislinn didn’t begrudge them for it. Even if she often felt left behind.
Now that it was her dearest friend’s turn, she meant to claim as much time as she could before the change—however big or small it truly turned out to be.
Getting out of the castle, away from her duties, was another boon. A pleasant breeze fluttered across the meadows and shallow valleys outside Dundúran, the green grasses swayinglike the sea. Their path followed the curving valleys around thick groves of trees and mossy outcroppings. The first leaves had begun to turn, a few pinpricks of red and orange and yellow in an otherwise verdant tapestry of green.
Aislinn breathed it in, glad of the fine day and prospect of seeing her friend—and, honestly, for the company. She didn’t dislike the two knights flanking them on either side, mounted on their warhorses and eyes scanning for threats between the beeches and blackberry bushes. She just didn’t see the necessity, really.
Or…she did, she just wished it wasn’t necessary.
It was a reminder that everything wasdifferentnow.
Life had changed for Aislinn as well, but not in the more pleasant ways it had for Sorcha.
Although…
Aislinn peered at the halfling beside her.
“How are you holding up, master blacksmith?” She couldn’t help teasing him a little, biting back a smile at how like a rabbit he looked, ready to jump and run.
“Do all noblewomen drive such…carts?”
“No, I designed this chaise myself. I wanted something small and light to get around. Although, once they saw them, quite a few other ladies desired their own. I believe there’s talk of starting a long-distance race next summer.”
“Like the Pyrrossi chariot racing,” he said, his concerned gaze fixed on the path.
“Less cutthroat, I’d imagine. Think ladies in their finest racing their favorite carriage horses.”
“You think noble ladies are less cutthroat than charioteers? Orcesses would race to win.”
Aislinn laughed. “You know, you may have a point. I know several who’d race to win, too.”
“What did you make this from? How did you conceive it?”
Aislinn glanced at him, trying to gauge his true interest. If she’d learned anything about the new blacksmith, it was that he was unfailingly polite to her. Oh, to be sure, he had a sense of humor and was good-natured and patient, but none of that meant he actuallywantedto hear about her trial-and-error to make her beloved chaise.
She found him looking back at her, some of the creases of worry easing from beneath his eyes. If she had to guess, she’d say he seemed…genuinely interested in her answer.
“Well, I found the carriage cumbersome, honestly. And the suspension on it is horrid when the roads are rutted. I wanted something light, that I could use. When I accompanied my father to Gleanná five years ago, I saw the court racing Pyrrossi chariots and I thought—I want something like that. Father wouldn’t hear of it at first, so we compromised on this more cart-like design. Then it was a matter of creating and affixing the axle…”
The trip to Granach took little time at all, dominated by her explanation of how she’d eventually come to the final design. She remembered to take moments to breathe and check to see how much his attention had waned—yet, each time, she found him more attentive than before. If anything, the more she talked, the more relaxed he became. His knuckles unclenched from his side of the seat, and he began to move with the chaise rather than holding so stiff.
He asked about the axle and the rigging, the suspension and the breaks. With her long answers, he seemed to finally look around him and began inspecting the chaise with more interest, seeing for himself what she’d done to design it.
Aislinn hardly noticed the journey had passed them by until they were pulling into the packed-earth courtyard of the Brádaigh estate outside of Granach. A pause in their conversation allowed her to finally hear the bustle of the estate;grooms led horses here, there, and everywhere, cadets roamed the practice fields, and staff worked to bring in the early harvest from the orchards and vast gardens.
Renowned for breeding, raising, and training warhorses, the Brádaigh estate was a complex of fine buildings, dominated by a stable that rivaled those at Dundúran. The main buildings were surrounded by paddocks, grazing meadows, and a small training arena. And that was just for the horses. Sir Ciaran Byrne, Sorcha’s knightly father, had a small barrack full of squires and cadets, little knights-in-training. And of course, there were cottages for the staff and grooms, a vast apple orchard, gardens full of beds of sunflowers, squash, and more.
The family themselves lived in a typical country manor house, built of local stone and dark-stained wood. The gables had been carved to resemble horse heads, and the heavy front door had been tooled with a prancing horse on the face. Mats of thick ivy clung to the north and eastern walls. It was a handsome house, one Aislinn always adored visiting.
“Thank you for keeping me company,” she said to Hakon in the few moments of peace they had left.
“Always, my lady,” he replied, his gaze serious.
