Page 46 of Ironling
A warm hand enveloped hers and squeezed.
“Breathe, kit. Damnit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Aislinn clutched her father’s hand and breathed through it. After a few moments and deep breaths, her stomach stopped revolting.
When she could finally look up at her father, his expression was contrite. Acidic shame burned the back of her throat to think he might see her as unable to handle the difficult realities of their situations. She valued that he spoke so freely with her, that he trusted her enough to tell her the truth.
With another squeeze of her hand, Merrick said quietly, “As heiress, it’d be wise for you to marry, yes. Before the king pushes a choice on you. That’s why I bring it up now—to give you time. I’m sure you can find someone you like. Someone who will be a good husband, a good partner.”
Aislinn nodded shakily, giving her father the reassurance heneeded that she was all right.
Except she wasn’t.
She hardly heard the dining hall around her, hardly noticed when Bayard finally joined them, richly adorned in a velvet doublet. She dutifully sipped the wine he’d brought, hardly tasting it.
She managed to keep minimal conversation, just enough not to seem rude, but her mind was far afield.
A husband. A partner.
Her soul didn’t cry out against the idea as it might have when she was younger, but her reluctance was still firm.
Where to even begin?
Her gaze, affixed to the table during the meal and chatter, rose to look out upon the dining hall. Without issue, she found the big green form of the new blacksmith, sitting with his peers, Wülf lounging at his side.
Pitter-patterwent her heart inside the fist of despair clutching it tight.
Just because Sorcha got a storybook love affair with a halfling doesn’t mean you’ll get one too,she told herself.
And yet…
And yet.
Hakon and the rest of the staff looked up from their meals when the visiting lord entered the hall, dripping in finery and smiling beatifically ear to ear. Baron Bayard was exactly what Hakon imagined of a nobleman—refined, clad in his riches, and easywith his smiles and compliments.
Hakon hated him on sight.
“Do I enjoy having to make up that monstrosity of a bed in the room he prefers? No,” said Claire, one of the chambermaids, as she refilled her goblet with more of the expensive wine Bayard had brought. “But at least this time he came bearing gifts.”
“And even better that milord and milady don’t care for wine,” added Owen, a potter sitting on Orek’s left. He held out his cup for Clarie to fill.
“He comes often?” Hakon asked.
His beast snarled and snapped at the sight of the nobleman sitting at the high table, but Hakon thought he kept his tone even, not letting on to the searing curiosity that’d consumed him since Fia came to fetch Lady Aislinn.
Fia herself snickered into her napkin. “Too often.” She rolled her pretty brown eyes, smiling wide at him. Fia had a pretty mouth, with lush lips that spread wide. Hakon liked her mouth—it was easy to read.
“He’s been after the lady for years now,” said Brigitt, another maid. She leaned forward conspiratorially, her bright eyes dancing with mirth. “She’s denied him already, but he can’t seem to give up the game.”
“Can’t truly blame him,” said Liam, another potter on the other side of Owen. “Prize has only gotten bigger.”
The three maids booed and hissed at his remark.
“Milady isn’t a prize broodmare,” grumbled Claire.
“She can do far better than him,” agreed Fia. “Especiallynow.”
Brigitt nodded imperiously. “She can haveanyman she wants.” And as she raised her cup to her lips, she winked at Hakon over the rim.
