Page 66 of Ironling
“But it shouldn’t be.” Brenna raised her hands. “I know it’s your task, and I know you mean to do it, but they shouldn’t be given land. We don’t even know who these creatures are! If Sorcha Brádaigh wants to bring one into her family and marry it, fine, but we shouldn’t be encouraging them.”
A cold, sickening dread held Aislinn like a fist.
“That isn’t your decision to make, Brenna. Your position is to bring me correspondence.Allcorrespondence.”
“My position is to take care of you and this family. It’s all I’ve done since the day I came here with your dear mother. Allowing otherly folk here, letting them becomelandholders,will weaken your family’s position—in the Darrowlands and at court.”
“They come seeking a new life, and they’ve done nothing but enrich their communities. We’re giving them a fair chance, just as we would anyone.”
“Life isn’t fair, Aislinn. If it was, your brother would have minded himself better and kept his position. If it was fair, you’d be off in the capital, at the great academies learning and inventing—not stuck here at a position you’re unsuited for. If it was fair, your mother wouldn’t—”
Aislinn staggered back a step, Brenna’s words hitting her like a physical blow.
How had she never realized Brenna thought this way?
Unsuited.
Aislinn didn’t always take to her duties, no, but she tried her very best. Certainly, the duties were often overwhelming, andshe longed for more time of her own, but that didn’t mean she disliked the work. Aislinn enjoyed the challenge and puzzle of it, but above all finding ways to better the lives of her people. Always.
Brenna took a moment to compose herself. “I didn’t feel you needed the added burden,” she said. “You’re already struggling. This shouldn’t be a priority.”
Tears slipped down Aislinn’s face before she realized she wept, and she shook her head in denial before she knew she did so. Hands on her face to catch the sudden tears, she said, “It isn’t your place to decide that.”
“When your dear mother passed, I promised her I’d—”
“You aren’t my mother!” Aislinn cried, shocked at herself for it—but more so for what came out next. “And neither am I.”
Brenna’s face fell, but Aislinn was done. Fleeing the corridor, she hurried to the nearest staircase. Clapping a hand over her mouth to keep in her sobs, she raced down the spiraling stairs, slowed only by a chambermaid who called after her in alarm.
Emotions tumbling like the sea in a storm, Aislinn fought against them, a ship caught in the tempest. Panic and bile rose in her throat, and she knew it was too late. Her fit was coming, and she wanted to benowherenear Brenna when it happened.
Her vision blurred by tears, Aislinn managed to stumble her way to the rose garden. It took multiple tries to get the key in the lock and open the door.
Once inside, she didn’t know if she closed the door behind her. She staggered to the lawn, cut short weeks ago by Hakon as they finished reclaiming the garden from the brambles.
He thinks I shine.
Slumping to the grass, Aislinn buried her face in her hands and succumbed to the sobs. She didn’t feel shiny or brilliant or capable. In fact, she felt about as tall as the grass beneath her.
She sank her fingers into the lawn, soil wedging beneath hernails, and pulled.
Brenna thought she hated being heiress.
Brenna didn’t think she was right or good for it.
Brenna thought…Brenna thought…
Aislinn thought she could trust her.
I was wrong. Again.
Wrong about yet another person she’d known her whole life. Someone she considered family.
Wrong. So, so wrong.
She couldn’t trust Brenna. Or Jerrod. Or herself, for she’d trusted both of them once and now—
Stupid.She was so stupid!
