Page 98 of Ironling
“His life is here.”I’m here.“But, he’s asked me to come see the land sometime soon.”
“One conundrum after another,” Sorcha muttered. “He gives you gifts but hasn’t said anything about the mate-bond. He buys land away from Dundúran but wants your approval.”
Conundrum was right. Aislinn didn’t know what to think now, a seed of worry already planted in her mind. When she made herself consider the mate-bond again, she found she wasn’t so terrified of it. Perhaps there was comfort in the finality of it. To know who your mate, your person was. If someone was thoughtful and deliberate in their choice, if they met and chose the right person, then the mate-bond would no doubt be a boon.
For herself, it would be a comfort to know that she’d be able to trust that the bond was there, tying them together, rather thana desire for her title. She didn’t have that fear with Hakon per se, but she hadn’t forgotten the bitterness of discovering that she was her title first, Aislinn second to her previous lovers.
A noblewoman always had to consider her title when it came to marriage—whether she married because of that title or needed to safeguard it against avaricious suitors.
“Perhaps it’s for the best,” she made herself say. “Father’s beginning to insist I find someone to marry before the king does.”
“You, marry?” Sorcha guffawed. “You’ve been avoiding it so long.”
A twinge of frustration pinched Aislinn’s chest; it wasn’t that she was altogether opposed to marriage. She’d just never found someone she wanted to marry. Not marrying also meant no one expected her to produce heirs and put her life in danger doing it. No man or potential family had been worth the risk before.
Until…
Sorcha squeezed her hand again. “I’m so sorry, Aislinn. This is so much to bear, especially on top of everything else. I wish I had answers for you. I wish…” Her expression fell. “I wish I’d known what a burden it would be when I asked you to be named heiress.”
Aislinn hurried to reassure her friend, even though an ugly, hurting part of her was glad of the acknowledgement. Some days, she resented that this had been bestowed upon her. Some days, she rued the mantle placed on her shoulders.
This part of her wasn’t the whole, though, and in the end, she was grateful for the chance to serve her people. In so many ways, she’d acted as heiress even before Jerrod’s exile. At least now, there was an acknowledgement of her status and the work she did, and she was honest enough with herself to recognize that that satisfied her pride.
With more power over the Darrowlands, Aislinn intended toimprove where she could. She’d make the most of this and leave her mark on her demesne. She just needed a moment to collect herself and catch her breath. Sort out her plans. Figure out what to do with Brenna, what to do about Jerrod when Connor Brádaigh found him, and what she meant to do with Hakon.
But the panic simmered inside her, making Aislinn wish she could solve all problems with a good soak with her dearest friend.
Nothing was ever so simple, though.
Enjoy it while it lasts,she told herself. She’d never been good at it, but there was never a better time to start.
22
That night, Aislinn laughed along to Sorcha’s ridiculous story of what Darrah the raccoon had been up to over the last few weeks—mainly, disappearing into the stables and eating most of the apples, making him many equine enemies.
The dining hall buzzed with warmth and chatter, the tables full of good food and lively people. Hugh made a rare appearance in the hall to graciously accept a round of applause for a wonderful meal, as did Captain Aodhan to sit with some of his seconds and play drinking games.
Aislinn hadn’t accomplished much that day, but her spirit was lighter for it. Spending time with Sorcha—while creating more questions than answers about Hakon and orcish courting—was always good for her own morale. The little party planned to stay the night, and Aislinn already looked forward to breakfast with them and stealing a few more hours with her dearest friend.
Sorcha, Orek, and the three youngest Brádaighs were a welcome addition to the high table, the conversation bouncing between all the siblings. It was a marked difference from her staid, lonely dinners since her father had departed. Usually, shebrought a book or work to read while she ate.
This was much better.
Although…
Her gaze strayed over Sorcha’s shoulder, following a familiar path to the rear of the hall. As if he could sense her gaze, Hakon’s attention shifted from the potter beside him up to her. Aislinn offered a small smile, wishing he could join them at the high table.
It was while she looked across the hall at Hakon that she noticed a figure walking quickly toward the high table. Aislinn’s attention pivoted, and she watched with growing curiosity as one of the maids, Siobhan, hustled toward them, her face blotchy with color and her expression grave. Aislinn might have been worried were it Fia, but Siobhan was known to be of an excitable, meek disposition.
Siobhan dipped into a curtsey when she made the high table. “Forgive me, milady,” she whispered breathlessly. “A courier just came, he said it was urgent.” She held out a neatly folded missive, sealed with yellow wax.
Aislinn’s sense of dread lessened when she saw it was neither the royal seal nor her father’s. Orek reached for the missive and handed it to her.
“Thank you, Siobhan. Please, enjoy your dinner.”
Curtseying, Siobhan wrung her hands, her gaze stuck worriedly on the missive for a moment before she finally turned away.
Aislinn met Sorcha’s curious gaze before using a nail to pop the seal. Yellow was a common color, available in any tavern or waystation, but much less so was the prancing horse standard pressed into the wax.
