Chapter 34

34

A islinn arched into a delicious stretch, spreading her toes and rolling her shoulders. Her skin slid against even warmer skin, and the memories of yesterday filled her heart with such gladness. Rolling onto her other side, she beheld her sleeping betrothed.

She'd never seen Hakon asleep before. In all the nights they'd spent together, they'd either woken at the same time or he was the one to wake her so she could slip back to her rooms.

He seemed so at ease, the hard lines of his face softened by sleep. His pointed ears lay flat against the closely shaven sides of his head, but the longer hair at the crown flopped across his forehead in an almost boyish swoop. His lips were parted just slightly, revealing the tip of a tusk, and too tempting for her to resist.

The heavy arm thrown across her waist tightened and pulled her in as she kissed him awake. She should probably let him sleep, but she couldn't bear her joy alone.

He came awake slowly, his mouth moving lazily as she tangled their legs.

What a way to greet the new day.

She loved it. Most of her mornings had been spent alone. There was plenty she enjoyed about that, as well as having a bed to herself. However, there was far more to enjoy with this arrangement, and she could see herself quickly growing used to him here, in her bed, in her rooms, in her life.

He's mine. Well and truly mine.

The thought was almost too fantastic to believe. She couldn't think on yesterday without a touch of wonder. Aislinn didn't know how things had gone so well, nor if an old god smiled upon her finally, but she wouldn't take the opportunities for granted.

Bayard in the dungeon, Hakon in her bed.

Everyone was just where they should be.

Aislinn was running her hands all over her man's fine chest when he finally pulled back. Those gentle brown eyes opened, his gaze so tender it nearly made her squirm.

"Good morning, my mate," he murmured.

"Good morning, husband-to-be."

That earned her a grin, his eyes crinkling and that devastating dimple appearing in his cheek.

He lifted his big hand to draw her hair back from her face, and he cupped her cheek for a long while, holding her gaze and sharing breath. Aislinn knew he wished to say something, but she didn't rush him, content to lay in his arms.

When he finally asked, his brows drawn low with worry, it nearly broke Aislinn's heart. "Are you sure?" he whispered. "Outside this room…not everyone will welcome us."

"I'm not afraid," she whispered back. "Those who dislike it will learn to accept us or hold their tongues. I'm sure of you, Hakon. Unless you…"

Her stomach swooped to think that he might have second thoughts. Romantic gestures and pillow talk were all one thing, but living beside her, an Eirean heiress, was entirely another. It wasn't a life suited to many, and it would present many challenges.

He dispelled her fears quickly, shaking his head. "Naught will separate me from you now." Pulling her hand up his chest, he placed it above the steady drum of his heart. "The bond has taken—I'm yours for always, past the gods calling us home. I just wanted to know that you're sure."

"More than sure."

His answering smile was small but more magnificent for it. People might mistake him for unassuming, that his quiet nature meant a quiet mind or mild spirit. Just the opposite. Aislinn saw just how brightly his inner fire burned, a hot core of iron that could bend but not break.

They would forge a life for themselves, the two of them.

"I love you, my darling," she murmured against his lips, happy tears welling against her lashes.

"Ach, vinya, you start the day by spoiling me." Pulling her atop him, his hands caressed every curve as his mouth claimed hers. "There aren't words enough to say how much I love you," he told her between kisses, "nor for how glorious, how brilliant, how—"

The door to the solar opened. Wülf bounded up from his bed by the fire, barking.

Aislinn slid back into the blankets as Brenna bustled into the bedchamber, her eyes rounding with shock to see Hakon.

"Abed together?" she admonished. "You aren't even married yet."

Holding the blankets to her chest, Aislinn sat up, frowning.

Arm folded above him and hand beneath his head, the picture of male repose, Hakon was quicker with his rebuke. "We're bonded in the orcish way," he told Brenna calmly.

"We aren't in orcish territory, and you, " Brenna pointed an accusing finger at Aislinn, "aren't an orcess."

No, she wasn't. What Aislinn was, was spitting mad. Embarrassment colored her cheeks, but she refused to feel guilty or ashamed for being caught with her own betrothed. She and Hakon had lain together dozens of times now, and it was on the tip of her tongue to lash Brenna with that fact.

Throwing her arms up in exasperation, Brenna proceeded to one of the armoires to fetch Aislinn clothes.

"If you insist on doing this, you should at least do it right," Brenna lectured as she pulled underthings from a drawer. "Households aren't combined until after the marriage."

"I only have two trunks. It will be easy to combine households."

Brenna scowled over her shoulder at Hakon for his joke, but he only grinned.

Drawing a long breath, Aislinn placed a hand on his arm.

Enough.

"Brenna, you cannot come barging in without knocking anymore. This is my room, my refuge, and now it's Hakon's, too. You must announce yourself like anyone else."

That got the chatelain's attention. Turning round to face the bed, Brenna frowned incredulously at Aislinn.

"I'm not just anyone, my lady."

"No. But if you're so worried for Hakon and me to adhere to protocol and appearances, you should lead by example."

Brenna blinked, and Aislinn knew she was right. Although Aislinn had no plans to send Hakon from her bed, she did understand that some transgressions couldn't be tolerated anymore, not if their new life together was to have a successful start.

Steeling herself, Aislinn stood from the bed, taking a blanket with her to wrap around herself. Both Brenna and Hakon had seen her naked plenty of times, but having a little covering helped her feel more secure when she told her mother's oldest friend her decision.

"Things are changing, Brenna. I…Dundúran cannot go on like it has. Once Jerrod has been defeated, I intend to implement reforms. The first of which is," she drew herself up tall and met Brenna's stare, "I want you to begin training a successor. When they're ready, you will receive your full annuity and more in recognition of your service to my family."

Silence hung heavy between them, and Aislinn could see she'd truly surprised the chatelain.

Brenna's power and opinion were so solid, so assured, they'd ruled Aislinn for a long time. She'd needed that rigidity in the dark days after her mother's death, as well as Brenna's competence as she herself learned how to govern Dundúran Castle.

But Aislinn wasn't a girl anymore, nor was she a weakling in need of a firm hand.

There were many times Aislinn thought herself broken, that her mind was just too strange. After her mother's death, she was made to feel ashamed of herself, and that shame carried the echo of Brenna's voice.

It'd taken her too long to realize that her own way of thinking, of doing things—it wasn't a weakness but a strength.

"You can't mean i-it." Brenna's voice cracked, and her hand flew to her mouth to hold in a sob.

Clenching her teeth against her own answering sob, Aislinn nodded. "I do. You've served ably, and I've leaned on you many times. I'm grateful for all of it, Brenna. But you've shown you don't approve of how I will rule the Darrowlands."

She reached out to squeeze Brenna's arm, but the chatelain stepped back, out of her reach.

"It's time you live for yourself, Brenna."

Aislinn hoped, with time, the woman would come to see it as the opportunity it was rather than the punishment it must feel like. The annuity set aside for staff of Brenna's caliber and tenure was sizeable, and she could do anything she liked with it. Aislinn would ensure Brenna had whatever she needed for this new part of her life.

But she wouldn't change her mind. She could no longer trust Brenna, and in these important, vulnerable early days of her rule, Aislinn needed people she could trust.

Eyes glittering with ferocious tears, Brenna exacted her final strike. "You break my heart. First your brother, and now you." She shook her head with disbelief. "After all I've done…"

You've done so much.

Aislinn swallowed past a sticky throat. "I can dress myself this morning, and we will take breakfast in the dining hall. Please, take a moment for yourself."

Lips pinched, Brenna bobbed before turning on her heels and marching from the room.

She left an uncomfortable silence behind in the bedchamber, as well as a shard of guilt lodged in Aislinn's chest. She rubbed at it, but the sharp pain wouldn't leave her.

A rustling from the bed drew her attention, and she watched as Hakon rose and came to her. Kissing her brow, he enfolded her in his arms.

"Should we worry over her?" he asked gently.

Aislinn knew what he asked. It would've been smarter to tell Brenna her decision after Jerrod was dealt with, as she couldn't wholly guarantee the chatelain wouldn't do something foolish out of hurt or spite. Yet, as she told Hakon, "I'm having her movements monitored. She may love my brother better, but there's little she can do now."

"Perhaps, but still, best let Captain Aodhan know."

"I will. I just…" Aislinn lifted her head to look at him, so he could see her conviction when she said, "I didn't like her invading our space. She has often wielded shame like a weapon, but we have nothing to be ashamed of. It is she who should be ashamed of her bigotry."

One side of Hakon's mouth kicked up in a grin. "Indeed. My fierce mate. You are a force to be reckoned with."

She didn't feel like it, but the words were a solace to her aching heart. Difficult decisions and changes were coming, but she could make it through. She had him.

Sighing, Aislinn let herself melt back into his warmth and comfort. She would need it in the coming days more than ever.

The following days were a dichotomy of painful waiting and breathless activity as Dundúran prepared.

More townsfolk made camp in the courtyard, and the castle kitchens and stores were open day and night to feed them. Businesses were boarded up; mills, tanneries, and breweries were closed; and the market stalls shuttered their doors. Many took up the offer to learn self-defense from the garrison, and more lent their labor to the city and castle smithies.

Forges bellowed smoke alongside the kitchens, baking steel and iron into arrowheads and shields. Some folk spent their days peeling carrots and potatoes, others sharpening poles into wooden stakes.

It filled Aislinn with pride to see her people come together. They didn't complain, even with the impending threat. They rallied, and their steadfastness reaffirmed her own resolve.

They also accepted the large halfling at her side.

To be sure, there were murmurs of doubt, even hostility, toward their union. However, they were murmurs only, and as the strenuous days passed, the sight of Hakon by her side lost its novelty.

Aislinn leaned on her blacksmith, and she hoped the people saw how he never wavered. He set his own back into fortifying the garrison and castle, working alongside the other Dundúran smiths when he wasn't accompanying Aislinn. He gave his sweat and blood to defending Dundúran, its heiress, and its people—and those people saw.

His care, for her and for her people, filled those parts of Aislinn that she hid away, the hurting and cracked parts. His calm, steady presence lent her confidence and reassurance, and even in those rare times when he wasn't beside her, she had only to think of him and touch her whittled rose to keep the worst of her fears at bay.

When those fears grew too great, he was there, offering his hand to hold or chest to cry into. Rather than fight them, she allowed her fears their time, pouring out what she had in order to carry on.

With his help, she appointed and delegated, and the castle ran the better for it. The time it freed left her available to meet and strategize with those vassals who began to arrive with their companies.

As she walked the ramparts of the castle, hope coursed thick through her veins to see the growing army camp south of the city. Some earls could spare ten knights, some margraves came themselves with fifty. Each addition was welcomed by Aislinn and the people of Dundúran, and as the days passed and their numbers grew, the threat of Jerrod and his mercenaries didn't seem so dire.

There was no word from her father, nor the king or queen, but that was all right. With Hakon beside her and the people of the Darrowlands united around her, she knew there would be but one outcome.

"Y ou must hold still, vinya. "

"Sorry." His mate smiled down at him contritely, but within a few moments, her attention had flitted back out the window. She rocked back and forth in her distraction, her mind no doubt in five different places, none of them in the smithy with him.

Hakon bit back his grin and held onto her hips to still her.

The apprentices and other blacksmiths looked on with mixed reactions, mostly annoyance that he was taking up time and space for his project, but he wouldn't be deterred.

Last night, scouts had returned with word. Jerrod and his forces were drawing closer, would be here tomorrow. The city was a buzzing hive of activity, those townsfolk who hadn't already done so moving into the castle for shelter or fleeing to the east. The people had dealt with the stress of an impending attack admirably, and now that they knew when the mercenary force would arrive, a strange sort of calm had settled over Dundúran.

Its heiress included.

Hakon had offered all the calm and encouragement he could over the past days, but now he wasn't sure he had any left for himself. Especially not when she'd emerged from her meeting with her vassals with the strategy to meet Jerrod in the field.

"I want to spare the city and people as much as possible," she'd told him as they lay in bed last night.

"I understand, but that doesn't mean you yourself must lead it."

Everything inside him roared and raged at the thought of his mate, untrained in the fighting arts, sent out to meet her brother and his mercenaries. He loathed the idea and said as much, multiple times and vehemently.

Aislinn was set in her decision, though. No matter how he argued or cajoled or withheld her orgasm.

"My mind is made. I have to do this. And you must finish what you start, or else I'll be cranky with you."

He'd heeded her threat, but even as his mate broke apart on his tongue, he still rumbled with a trepidation so deep, it nearly paralyzed him.

So, he'd extracted promises from her and gotten to work before dawn.

"I'll meet Jerrod in the field. He may yet be reasoned with."

"Fine, but you'll do it armored."

He hadn't time to make her a proper cuirass, instead using an unclaimed set in the armory. He cut away excess metal, and when she arrived late that morning as promised for her fitting, he marked the plate with charcoal to determine where else he had to adjust for the best fit he could give her.

A close-fitting cuirass was better than a loose one, but he knew in the back of his mind that it likely mattered little. Still, she'd promised to wear it as some modicum of defense when she otherwise refused to stay within the safety of the castle walls.

She'd also promised that she wouldn't fight but instead fall back to the safety of guards specifically assigned to her when Jerrod turned to violence, as Hakon knew he would. It was the most he could hope for, and he tried to content himself that she would be surrounded by hundreds willing to give their lives for hers.

If he was honest, though, the thought of her so close to danger was driving him to madness. His beast paced inside him, restless and unhappy. Hakon's unease crawled just beneath his skin, and he'd no patience for the other smiths when they told him the cuirass was good enough, to leave it.

Nothing could be just good enough for his mate.

She had to be protected, safe. As safe as he could make her.

Although he wasn't a master fighter himself, he would stand with her. He would be her shield, and if all else failed, all other defenses breached, at least she would have some plate and mail protecting her. They could stop a stray arrow and a glancing blow—he had to pray that was the worst she'd face.

His innards clenched painfully at the thought of even that.

She shouldn't be in battle. She should be in our bed, safe and content. She should—

A soft hand lifted his chin and routed his stampeding thoughts.

He looked up to see her gentle gaze upon him.

"I can hear you thinking," she said. Leaning down, she whispered against his lips, "It's going to be all right. I know it."

Hakon pulled in a long breath tinged with her sweet scent. He received her soft kiss, trying to let it calm him.

Fates, she was too good for him, for all of this. She deserved only good things, and after tomorrow, Hakon would ensure that's all she received.

The threat to his mate ended tomorrow. Jerrod, his mercenaries, any who would question Aislinn's position as heiress, they would meet his war hammer or fall to their knees. Nothing would be allowed to threaten or endanger or sadden her again. Instead, the Darrowlands, Eirea herself, would see just what Aislinn Darrow could do.

Tomorrow would be the end—and the beginning.