Page 85 of Sweetling
He nodded slowly. “I don’t understand it myself. But I will never abide rudeness, especially not at your expense.”
More tears pricked her eyes. Molly hugged his arm to her and rested her cheek on his bicep. Somehow, she felt a little better despite the horrifically awkward encounter with the Braithwaites. The room had stopped spinning, at least.
Of course, as soon as she had the thought, a familiar golden head appeared nearby.
Molly just barely contained her gasp to see Lady Aislinn approaching with her half-orc husband, Lord Hakon. It was surreal to see them stop before her and Allarion, even more so to have the noble couple nod in acknowledgement to them when they bowed in respect.
Allarion greeted Lady Aislinn and Lord Hakon warmly, a stark contrast to the Braithwaites. And when Lady Aislinn looked over at Molly, asking without words for an introduction, Allarion seemed to stand straighter and taller as he said, “My lady, it pleases me to introduce you to my betrothed, Molly Dunne.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Molly,” said Lady Aislinn, every bit as beautiful and graceful as Molly believed her to be, having only ever seen her from a distance.
“The pleasure is mine, my lady. Thank you for having us here.”
“You are doing well, Miss Dunne?” asked Lord Hakon.
She blinked up at the hulking halfling, and it took a moment to remember—“Yes,” she hurried to assure him, “I meant it that day. I…I’m happy with Allarion.”
Molly smiled up at her fae, realizing the truth of her words.
Surreal as it all was, she’d never had happier days than those at Scarborough.
“Thank you for worrying over me, though,” Molly said. “You were kind to come after me.”
Lady Aislinn smiled in good humor. “I wanted assurance that Allarion hadn’t kidnapped one of my citizens.”
Another manic little giggle burst out of her, and Molly was quick to slap her hand over her mouth.
Conversation eased into Allarion’s progress with Scarborough, and Molly was content to let her fae lead. Still, Lady Aislinn and Lord Hakon asked her gentle questions, no doubt trying to suss out anything worrisome or false in Allarion’s account. It warmed her to know that the Darrow heiress cared over a common barmaid’s welfare, but she made more assurances that she was comfortable and settled at Scarborough.
“I hope you will join us at the high table for dinner,” said Lady Aislinn. “I’d love to hear all about how you two found each other.”
“Of course, my lady,” Allarion said, ignorant of how Molly’s heart skipped at the thought, “and hopefully we will learn why the princess herself requires my presence specifically.”
Lady Aislinn seemed to deflate. “Yes, that. I believe she carries letters from her parents, the king and queen. I have arranged a meeting for the both of you in the front solar the day after tomorrow.”
“It’s nothing bad, I hope.”
Lady Aislinn could only shrug. “Verbose as the princess is, she’s been silent on the matter to me. She says her business is between the two of you.
“Then I shall endeavor to live with the mystery another night,” said Allarion.
The couple agreed, and once dinner arrangements had been confirmed, farewells were said. Before they turned to leave, though, Lady Aislinn’s gaze snagged on Molly’s sleeve.
“Oh, Molly, that embroidering is absolutely beautiful!”
19
When they were finally shown to their room after an eventful dinner—Molly still couldn’t quite believe she’d conversed with the Crown Princess of Eirea, who was staying on in Dundúran through the winter—it took all of her willpower not to slump into the bed, gown, shoes, and all. Her back ached from all the standing still and her face ached from all the forced smiling.
But no, she couldn’t risk wrinkling her gown. It was the only good thing she had, and she’d need it for tomorrow’s council meeting. Molly ate that night’s dinner so slowly and carefully, knowing she couldn’t afford to stain her dress—nor slop in front of Lady Aislinn and Princess Isolde.
Still, she couldn’t help wilting onto the cushioned seat at the foot of the four-post bed. Their room was lovely, the walls covered in richly stained wood paneling, several small tables laid about the room covered in candelabras, and a warm fire crackled in the small hearth. The room was all rich browns, reds, and greens and sumptuously furnished—yet, so tired was she that it could’ve been a haybale and she’d have sunk into it gratefully.
Her overwrought mind snagged on the sight of Allarion unbuckling an obscene number of daggers from his belt. Where had he been hiding them all?
“Are you supposed to have so many weapons in the castle?” She couldn’t remember them being searched, but he’d left his sword strapped to Bellarand, and no one else carried weapons other than the guards. Molly had heard that since the threat of Lady Aislinn’s brother and the condemned Lord Bayard the previous winter, security had been quite tight within the castle walls.
He looked up, seemingly surprised by the question. “I don’t know.” Then, with a frown, he amended, “I don’t really care, either. Most of my magic is tied up at the estate, so these are my best means of defending you.”
