Page 72 of Ironling
“That his bride won’t appear?”
“That he might faint when he sees that his bride is more beautiful than he ever dreamed.”
Hakon rumbled in thought. “That’s certainly a possibility.” The lopsided grin he gave her had her stomach flipping with anxious delight.
Clearing her throat, Aislinn pulled in a breath and all her courage.
The music, the dancing, the mead—it all helped. Mead was her preferred drink; she enjoyed the taste and she’d experimented over the years to know exactly what specific amounts did to her. At two goblets, she wasn’t drunk, merely brave—and a little tingly. The perfect state to open her mouth and ask—
“Do you dance?”
Hakon’s heavy brows rose, and he glanced at the revelers dancing merrily around the bonfire.
“I don’t know your human dances,” he admitted, his grin falling.
Aislinn smiled through her sudden anxiety. “It’s all right! We can stand and talk.”
Hakon grimaced, looking around for a moment before raising a finger. “Stay right here,” he told her, before disappearing into the crowd.
She blinked after him, not sure how to interpret that. Not dancing with him and now not in his company, either. Not how she’d envisioned this.
Her brows sank into a confused frown, and the pleasant tingling in her lips and fingers began to fade.
Fates, now what do I do?
Certainly not chase after him through the crowd. Too conspicuous. Dancing together might be too, but it was a night of revelry and possibilities. There was a good chance some might not even remember after a night of celebration and drinking. The perfect opportunity to feel her halfling move and have him all to herself.
“My lady.”
Aislinn startled, looking up into the fathomless gaze of Allarion.
“Forgive me,” he was quick to say as Aislinn rubbed at where her heart pounded.
She dismissed his concerns with a wave, and then stood in shock at the sight of the mysterious fae. Gone was his long cloak. He was still covered from neck to toe in a fine black doublet that fit tightly to his muscular chest and dark trou tucked at the knee into black leather boots—but all his limbs were visible, and his long fall of hair had been tied back. Those pointed ears jutted back from his head, the many hoops and studs glittering in the firelight.
He almost looked…casual without the cloak.
A small smile touched his lips, sending Aislinn reeling in shock.
“It is a fine night. They give me much hope.”
Aislinn watched Allarion look out into the crowd, his gaze finding Orek and Sorcha across the courtyard, speaking to each other in low tones with warm, loving smiles on their faces.
“It’s wonderful,” Aislinn agreed. “Oh!”
Snapping her fingers, she dug through her pocket to produce the folded but signed and official deed.
“I believe this is yours,” she said, presenting him with the papers. “As is Scarborough estate.”
Eyes crinkling at the edges, Allarion gently took the deed, running his fingers over the parchment. “I thank you, Lady Aislinn. You cannot understand how much this means to a fae like me.”
There was a wealth of questions Aislinn wanted to ask him then—but the fae and his inscrutable smile were saved by the heavy beat of a drum.
Aislinn turned back to the bonfire to behold dancers clearing the way for all the orcs to converge in a great circle around the fire. About a half-dozen halflings, including Hakon and Orek, joined the ten or so orcs from Orek’s old clan who’d come for the wedding. They stood tall and silent around the crackling fire as the drumbeat grew louder and faster, and the crowd held itsbreath, waiting.
One of the older orcs let out a long shout, and then the others joined in, declaring something in orcish. The drum picked up pace, and as one, the orcs began to move. They whooped and yelled, their tusks flashing and the golden loops that decorated their green ears sparkling in the light.
Muscles bulged as their great bodies danced, their feet stomping the ground to create a rhythm that harmonized with the drumbeat. They clapped and hummed, dropping down before bouncing up, legs kicking. They jumped through the air, far more graceful than their size implied, spinning and pounding the ground again with feet and fists.
