Page 48 of Ironling
Fuck.
His gaze skittered to Fia, and they exchanged a look full of understanding.
Fuck!
He hardly heard when Brigitt finally straightened, a satisfied smile on her lips despite Hakon having no answer for her.
“It sounds awfully romantic,” she breathed.
“So if I show up tonight with a pot fresh out the kiln, you’ll be my forever-love?” said Owen.
“We all know your pots are for Tilly,” Brigitt sniped back,throwing Hakon a wink.
He managed a wan smile before retreating back into silence.
The conversation resumed around him, and he was relieved to fall back into watching mouths and listening as he pretended to eat.
Hakon didn’t taste the food. He couldn’t meet Fia’s searching gaze. He focused solely on not seeking out Lady Aislinn across the hall.
He couldn’t look upon her now. Not when another glimpse would surely have him marching across the hall, throwing her over his shoulder, and making off with her.
By the old gods, what a fucking mess.
12
Aislinn heard Brenna bustling into her room but didn’t accept that it was time to rise until the heavy drapes around her four-post bed were tossed back. Light spilled across the dark cavern of her bed, and Aislinn grumbled, squeezing her eyes shut.
“No wriggling, please, you’ll send your breakfast flying.”
She carefully sat up against the headboard as Brenna laid the breakfast tray on her lap.
Aislinn had asked Brenna to do this the night before, needing an early start to the day, but that went unappreciated in the bright light of morning. As she nibbled a bite of toast, cut into four perfect pieces, Brenna pulled her infamous list from her pocket.
The chatelain patted Aislinn’s knee at the face she pulled. “I know, dear. But such is the life of an heiress.”
Aislinn muffled most of her grumbling behind her toast.
Brenna was unimpressed, but her eyes crinkled in that way they did sometimes, on those rare occasions she showed affection. As Aislinn dutifully ate and listened, Brenna listed off the day’s tasks and various things she herself needed theheiress’s opinion or direction on.
“There’s the matter of the wine Baron Bayard sent—would you like the kitchen stocked with it?”
Fates, the wine. Bayard had come with so many bottles, most of the staff had sore heads and irritable attitudes for days. And once he’d finally returned home after two agonizing days ofvisiting,he sent even more.
My finest vintages for the finest heiress in the kingdom,his note read.
“Let Hugh have what he wants for the kitchens and add the rest to the wine cellar.”
“Very good,” said Brenna, leaving a note for herself with the portable quill Aislinn had designed for her. Such things were commonplace in bigger cities like Gleanná or Kilgaran, but Aislinn had made her own prototypes.
“He’ll expect a response,” Brenna commented, flicking her a look over her list.
“Add it to my correspondence list,” Aislinn sighed. Fates, there was never an end to those who needed a note or letter from her. Simple thanks or congratulations were most common, but then there were legal inquiries, suits, and requests from throughout the Darrowlands, her own personal correspondence with friends and extended family, as well as purchases, writs, and grants for Dundúran itself.
The Darrowlands thrived, which she was grateful for, but it meant a veritable mountain of paperwork. When she was young, her parents had often kept ministers to help run the demesne. After her mother’s death, though, as the ministers left, retired, or passed away, her father didn’t replace them. Instead, he decided to take on the duties himself; as a way to distract himself, Aislinn suspected.
It was admirable for a liege lord to take such an interest in and command of their demesne, and her father had institutedseveral popular reforms. However, those duties easily began to build up when Merrick was distracted by other things—such as his campaigns in the south. More of these duties now fell to Aislinn as her father prepared for his next excursion with Sir Ciaran. She enjoyed some of it, tolerated most of it, and loathed a handful of things. Her favorite was still helping the otherly folk who—
“Oh!” Aislinn sat up straighter, apple slice halfway to her mouth. “Do we have any petitions from the otherly camp for land grants? Specifically from an Allarion?”
