Page 36 of Ironling
Aislinn had never seen a man more devoted to his woman, and she felt almost voyeuristic witnessing how connected they were. It was almost as if they could read each other’s thoughts. The little looks passed between them, the small touches and gentle banter; they had a language all to themselves.
She was a little jealous of her friend’s attention being lured away—but more so seeing what a true love story could be.
Aislinn knew it hadn’t been easy for them, and there would always be challenges to a union between human and otherly folk. Yet, when she saw them together, Aislinn understood how meaningless those challenges were to them. The sacrifice, the battle was worth it.
Her friend deserved nothing less.
It’d been a long time since Aislinn had seen such love between people, or a couple so well suited to and supportive of each other. Certainly, there were always flirtations and affairs going on within the castle. Every now and then, staff married each other or a knight or someone from the city. Many of her noblewomen friends had married for love, and she’d seen how happy they looked at their own weddings.
None of it quite held the same luster and depth as the love she felt between Sorcha and Orek.
She supposed it could be nothing short of that sort of love that could tempt her, to make her want what she never truly had before.
Aislinn had vowed to never fall pregnant, to never be in a position to have her life stolen away like Róisín’s had. That meant, most simply, that she never intended to marry. There were certainly ways of avoiding pregnancy that didn’t involve abstaining, like silphium powder, and Aislinn practiced those too, but a nobleman with a highborn wife would want children, heirs. And with a Pyrrossi-dominated court, he would want sons.
Her plan had worked excellently so far. Her father never seemed anxious to marry her off. He and Róisín had married for love and companionship, as did many in the Darrowlands and elsewhere in Eirea. Yet, Aislinn wasn’t naïve enough to think the world in which Merrick and Róisín married was the same one she now inhabited. In an Eirea devastated after the wars of succession, expectations were different for nobles, particularly noblewomen.
This change was being resisted by many of the country lords, as her father was. The rights of women had always been equal to those of men, and Eirean inheritance and nomenclature often followed matrilineal lines. Sorcha herself was a Brádaigh, not a Byrne, and as the oldest daughter of an oldest daughter, would inherit the estate and business.
And yet, Aislinn’s choice could never be as simple as love and companionship and who suited her best.
She’d known that since she was a girl. So she resolved never to choose.
Seeing Sorcha with such a well-suited match, with a man who looked at her like she was the sun in his sky, though, had Aislinn aching.
It wasn’t that Aislinn had never been in love. Far from it. She’d fancied herself in love with her math tutor as a youth. He was a dashing prodigy from the capital, only a few years her senior, and she’d been dazzled by his brilliance. Her father had brought him to the Darrowlands specially for her, as she’d surpassed her other tutors early in her learning.
Brenden’s mind worked in such interesting, different ways—having someone who also thought differently, more analytically, had been almost addicting. Brenden had been the first person she let close since her mother’s death, and they had fallen in love over theorems and diagrams.
Eventually, though, the dazzle of him began to tarnish. He believed all the things people said of him, that he was meant for greatness. Aislinn hadn’t mourned his departure back to the capital.
Then there had been Sir Alaisdair, a noble second son and newly made knight. He’d come to train with Lord Merrick and Sir Ciaran and served under them for several years. Aislinn had allowed an affair to blossom between them, swept away by his good looks and easy confidence. He’d been easy to talk to, andAislinn was flattered by his attentions.
Still, like Brenden, Alaisdair too had begun to push about marriage. To state what he would do differently ifhewas Liege Darrow.
Aislinn hadn’t missed either of them by the time they left Dundúran. Her heart may have grieved for a time, but she’d known she could never truly love someone who loved not her but what she meant for their political future.
She would be no one’s steppingstone.
Seeing Sorcha with Orek, their love outshone anything Aislinn had ever known. She understood that what they had was rare, as well as that such a love wasn’t necessary to be content.
And yet…
“Speak and it shall be so,” quipped Sofie. “There they are now.”
Aislinn looked up, startled from her thoughts, out the kitchen window to see two huge green figures cutting across the courtyard.
Orek was striking in his leathers, and his height dominated any space he was in.
Hakon was a hair shorter but broader, those shoulders and arms bulging from his jerkin.
Pitter-patterwent her heart.
“I wonder if they looked at land on their way back,” Sorcha said absentmindedly, beginning to gather their cups and plates.
Aislinn’s mind snapped around her words with a metallicclank. “Land?”
Sorcha nodded, her focus on stacking plates. “Before getting his position at the castle, Hakon had said he was interested in acquiring land as well. I don’t know that he wanted to farm, but land all the same.”
