Chapter 8

8

H akon closed the smithy door behind him, cutting off Fearghas's grumbling. He'd told the master blacksmith he intended to visit the countryside days ago, but that didn't stop the old human from complaining that his work wouldn't get done.

Hakon was sure to be ahead of schedule so that Fearghas didn't truly have anything to fret about. Well, anyone other than Fearghas, at least.

Excitement lodged in his throat at the prospects of the day. He'd gotten word from Orek that another of their group of halflings had secured himself a farm. He and many others planned to visit and congratulate Varon, as well as take a look at the land surrounding his new farm. Whispers had it that the Darrows may be willing to part with more land, and Hakon wanted to get a look himself.

While he thoroughly enjoyed his position at the castle—and serving a certain brilliant heiress—he understood how important land was to humans. One day, he'd want land to offer a mate, to build her a fine home and anything she might desire. Founding his own forge also greatly appealed.

He'd stowed away a few of the uncut gems Siggy gave him deep in his pocket, just in case they'd help him today.

The day was clear and bright, a good day for walking.

With Wülf trotting at his side, Hakon strode through the inner bailey, ringed by the smithy and pottery on one side, a stone staircase up into the castle proper, and a southern castle wall, and out into the main courtyard of Dundúran Castle. The space was made to be a pleasure to walk through, and Hakon always did.

The symmetrically laid white limestone pavers and ornamental fountains spurting glittering droplets pleased his artisan sensibilities. Neatly trimmed trees and bushes lined three sides, interspersed with marble statues and columns, making a sort of airy colonnade of foliage, arches, and stonework. Flowerbeds added bursts of yellow, blue, and green and a subtle sweetness to the air.

Many meandered through the courtyard for leisure throughout the day; guards and castle staff and artisans alike. He'd watched the maids sit in the shade of a copse of poplar trees on the near side, taking their luncheon and gossiping. He'd seen the knights train on the far side, near the gatehouse, running exercises and sparring.

It was somehow both serene and always full of noise, the bustle of the castle slowing a little within the wide courtyard.

Within that unique cadence, Hakon didn't think he imagined the sound of Lady Aislinn's voice as he neared the stables.

The largest of the castle's outbuildings contained within the curtain wall, the stables housed over a hundred horses; warhorses for the knights, draft horses to pull heavy loads, and sleek white carriage horses.

His steps faltered, thinking he heard her voice.

Fates, aren't I hearing it enough in my dreams?

It was bad enough that he dreamed of Lady Aislinn Darrow. Bad enough that he greedily soaked in her presence whenever she came to visit him at his forge—and that he tempted her back with promises of bringing more of her ideas to life.

Now he was hearing her, too.

And following the sound of her voice into the stables, somewhere he'd no place being. He'd hardly even touched a horse, let alone ridden one.

"Really, captain, it's ridiculous. I don't need a guard."

Like a moth to a flame, he followed inexorably on. His mind told him to leave it alone; this was her castle, and if she needed him, she'd ask for him.

His beast would have none of it, urging him deeper.

The smell of horses and hay was heavy inside the stables, although he found it to be a brighter space than he'd expected. Dozens of humans and horses moved about, and somewhere a farrier hammered shoes onto a hoof.

Lady Aislinn was easy to find, standing not far from the entrance, her golden hair gathered up into braids and pinned to her head. His beast rumbled with desire at the curve of her long neck, wisps of hair falling along her nape.

By the gods, stop it, he told the beast and himself.

He'd no business here in the stables or with the lady of the castle if she wasn't at his forge. If he'd been back in Kaldebrak panting after one of Chieftain Kennum's three daughters, the chief wouldn't hesitate to lop off Hakon's head with a dull battleaxe.

A halfling had no place thinking of an orc chief's daughter, nor a human nobleman's daughter.

He had to stop thinking of her when she wasn't with him and longing for the moment she returned. He had to stop enjoying the sound of her voice when she spoke in that animated way of hers, hands fluttering and swooping as she explained this project or that idea. He had to stop admiring the sharp cut of her mind and bright sparkle of her eyes. And he most assuredly had to stop dreaming about how the nip of her waist curved out into wide hips that swayed mesmerizingly as she walked in those draping blue skirts and would perfectly fill his hands.

He meant to find a mate—something he couldn't do if he kept mooning over Lady Aislinn. It didn't warrant even entertaining the thought of claiming her as his mate, nor that she would ever accept such an affront.

Much as he begrudged the old head blacksmith, one thing Fearghas said at least was true. Hakon had to remember his place—and it wasn't with Lady Aislinn.

That rational part of him wasn't the one that snapped to attention, though, when Lady Aislinn made a noise of frustration at the man standing before her. It was the beast that growled inside him in warning as the man, Aodhan, captain of the guard, stood firm, frowning down at her.

He knew Aodhan to be a good, noble sort. Stoic and strict, his brown hair and beard were shorn close to his skin. A scar bisected the left side of his tanned face, perpetually pulling it down into something of a scowl. Still, from what Hakon had seen and heard of him, he was a fair captain, highly respected by the knights and castle staff.

But right then, with him frowning down at her like that, Hakon hated him.

"I insist, my lady. You cannot be without guards."

"I'm only going to Granach! An hour!"

"That's an hour any vagabond would have on us, my lady."

Lady Aislinn grumbled, arms crossing over her chest. "It's just unnecessary. I've gone to the Brádaigh estate hundreds of times— without a chaperone."

"Guards, not chaperones," said Captain Aodhan in a voice that spoke of having said so many times before. "And that was before ."

Hakon couldn't see Lady Aislinn's face, but her displeasure permeated the air, and most everyone else in the stables had made themselves scarce as the heiress and captain locked horns.

The beast gnashed its teeth— who was this male to deny her? And, on his next breath, How dare she ever be left unprotected?

If anyone would protect her, it was him .

"I will go with Lady Aislinn."

Silence met his offer.

Lady Aislinn turned to behold him with surprise. Captain Aodhan just raised a brow.

Clearing his throat, Hakon dared another few steps inside. Damn it all.

"I'm headed to Granach myself. I can accompany Lady Aislinn."

Another beat of silence, Lady Aislinn blinking at him before—

"That suits me just fine. Hakon will go with me."

"My lady," Captain Aodhan sighed, "you still must have guards. No offense to Master Hakon, but you need armed protection."

Hakon had just enough sense, and control of his beast, to clench his tusks to his gums to stop himself from telling the captain he'd happily rip any threat to Lady Aislinn apart with his bare hands—or showing him the dagger and hatchet he always carried. It paid to be prepared.

"Who would dare attack with an orc beside me?"

"Criminals will always dare. The scum that attacked Sorcha Brádaigh is still at large. So you'll have a full complement."

"I don't need six guards to visit a friend. What will that say to the people? One and Hakon will be plenty."

"Four."

"Two, and I drive myself."

Captain Aodhan opened his mouth, but after a moment's thought, closed it with a click . Finally, he nodded. "Very well, my lady."

Lady Aislinn sighed in relief as the captain barked over his shoulder, "Tieran, Greenbriar, mount up. Bring the heiress's carriage."

Hakon stepped forward to follow Lady Aislinn further into the stables, still a bit dazed by the turn of events. Before he could get far, Captain Aodhan intercepted him. A big, leather-gloved hand landed on the center of his chest, and although the human captain was a head shorter than Hakon, he stared up at him with enough gravity to stop him in his tracks.

"I'm entrusting you with the safety of our heiress," Aodhan said in a low, threatening voice.

"I'll protect her with my life." The beast rumbled with displeasure that anyone would think otherwise.

"See that you do. I'll send someone to the armory to—"

"No need." Pulling back his jerkin, Hakon revealed the hidden dagger and hatchet.

Aodhan squinted at them before asking, "You any good with them?"

"I'm a halfling with all my limbs still."

The captain assessed him, his light-brown gaze uncompromising as he took Hakon's measure.

Hakon stared back, unwavering.

Nowhere is safer for her than with me.

Whatever Captain Aodhan saw, it apparently satisfied him.

"Don't fail me, halfling."

"I'd never fail her, captain." And, because he figured his measure was taken anyway, he added, "Tomorrow, come by the forge and I'll work that dent out of your cuirass."

Captain Aodhan's gaze fell to the miniscule dent on the side of his breastplate, hardly anything, denoted only by a small shadow.

With a chuckle, the captain stepped aside as two horses pulled alongside them. A set of those sleek white horses had been hitched to a small—Hakon didn't even know. It wasn't quite the chariots he knew were raced in the human kingdom of Pyrros to the south. It wasn't quite the cart or wagon used by the farmers and craftsmen, nor the stately carriage he'd seen Lord Merrick climb into.

Essentially a bench on two large wheels, it had a long, cushioned seat protected by a bucket of wood painted shiny black with a storage compartment mounted behind it. Lady Aislinn sat on one side, long leather reins in her hands.

"Shall we?" she said.

Hakon gulped. She wanted him to ride in that?

Captain Aodhan slapped him on the shoulder. "Bring our blacksmith back in one piece, my lady."

T hey left Dundúran behind and were quickly subsumed into the countryside. The breeze invigorated Aislinn's senses, the bright sky and bird chirps lending a cheerful air to their journey.

Although, she'd enjoy it more if her companion wasn't gripping the chaise frame so firmly his knuckles had gone pale. Aislinn was a skilled driver; she hadn't crashed since she was a girl.

Still, it was proving a little challenging to compensate for the unbalanced weight distribution. They'd repacked her basket of gifts for the Brádaighs—rose petal sachets for Aoife, science books for Calum, poetry books for Blaire, butterscotch for Keeley, and a little of everything for Sorcha—directly behind her in a fruitless attempt to rebalance the chaise.

Finally, a few bricks had been added beneath her feet.

It mostly worked, but the chaise still listed slightly on Hakon's side. Aislinn leaned to her left to keep from completely sliding into his lap.

Although, if she was honest, she did delight in letting herself press up against him. There was little choice, really—he took up most of the bucket seat with those shoulders and arms of his. If it meant she had to sidle close to keep them balanced and feel all that warm muscle, well, that only brightened her already good day.

Outside the castle, into the fresh air of the countryside, on the way to see her best friend in the whole world. That spelled for a good day, even if she'd had to argue with Brenna, and then Captain Aodhan, to make it happen. She wouldn't be denied—especially since Sorcha and Orek were finally back from their latest trip south and their wedding was quickly approaching.

Sorcha assured Aislinn that things wouldn't change very much after the wedding; she and Orek would be moving into a new house near the Brádaigh family home, but that was it.

Aislinn had had enough other friends wed to know this wasn't true. Those noblewomen she'd counted as friends, although not as dear to her as Sorcha, had made stately visits around the Darrowlands and hosting banquets at Dundúran bearable. Now, all were married, many with child or onto their second or third.

Life had a way of changing, and Aislinn didn't begrudge them for it. Even if she often felt left behind.

Now that it was her dearest friend's turn, she meant to claim as much time as she could before the change—however big or small it truly turned out to be.

Getting out of the castle, away from her duties, was another boon. A pleasant breeze fluttered across the meadows and shallow valleys outside Dundúran, the green grasses swaying like the sea. Their path followed the curving valleys around thick groves of trees and mossy outcroppings. The first leaves had begun to turn, a few pinpricks of red and orange and yellow in an otherwise verdant tapestry of green.

Aislinn breathed it in, glad of the fine day and prospect of seeing her friend—and, honestly, for the company. She didn't dislike the two knights flanking them on either side, mounted on their warhorses and eyes scanning for threats between the beeches and blackberry bushes. She just didn't see the necessity, really.

Or…she did, she just wished it wasn't necessary.

It was a reminder that everything was different now.

Life had changed for Aislinn as well, but not in the more pleasant ways it had for Sorcha.

Although…

Aislinn peered at the halfling beside her.

"How are you holding up, master blacksmith?" She couldn't help teasing him a little, biting back a smile at how like a rabbit he looked, ready to jump and run.

"Do all noblewomen drive such…carts?"

"No, I designed this chaise myself. I wanted something small and light to get around. Although, once they saw them, quite a few other ladies desired their own. I believe there's talk of starting a long-distance race next summer."

"Like the Pyrrossi chariot racing," he said, his concerned gaze fixed on the path.

"Less cutthroat, I'd imagine. Think ladies in their finest racing their favorite carriage horses."

"You think noble ladies are less cutthroat than charioteers? Orcesses would race to win."

Aislinn laughed. "You know, you may have a point. I know several who'd race to win, too."

"What did you make this from? How did you conceive it?"

Aislinn glanced at him, trying to gauge his true interest. If she'd learned anything about the new blacksmith, it was that he was unfailingly polite to her. Oh, to be sure, he had a sense of humor and was good-natured and patient, but none of that meant he actually wanted to hear about her trial-and-error to make her beloved chaise.

She found him looking back at her, some of the creases of worry easing from beneath his eyes. If she had to guess, she'd say he seemed…genuinely interested in her answer.

"Well, I found the carriage cumbersome, honestly. And the suspension on it is horrid when the roads are rutted. I wanted something light, that I could use. When I accompanied my father to Gleanná five years ago, I saw the court racing Pyrrossi chariots and I thought—I want something like that. Father wouldn't hear of it at first, so we compromised on this more cart-like design. Then it was a matter of creating and affixing the axle…"

The trip to Granach took little time at all, dominated by her explanation of how she'd eventually come to the final design. She remembered to take moments to breathe and check to see how much his attention had waned—yet, each time, she found him more attentive than before. If anything, the more she talked, the more relaxed he became. His knuckles unclenched from his side of the seat, and he began to move with the chaise rather than holding so stiff.

He asked about the axle and the rigging, the suspension and the breaks. With her long answers, he seemed to finally look around him and began inspecting the chaise with more interest, seeing for himself what she'd done to design it.

Aislinn hardly noticed the journey had passed them by until they were pulling into the packed-earth courtyard of the Brádaigh estate outside of Granach. A pause in their conversation allowed her to finally hear the bustle of the estate; grooms led horses here, there, and everywhere, cadets roamed the practice fields, and staff worked to bring in the early harvest from the orchards and vast gardens.

Renowned for breeding, raising, and training warhorses, the Brádaigh estate was a complex of fine buildings, dominated by a stable that rivaled those at Dundúran. The main buildings were surrounded by paddocks, grazing meadows, and a small training arena. And that was just for the horses. Sir Ciaran Byrne, Sorcha's knightly father, had a small barrack full of squires and cadets, little knights-in-training. And of course, there were cottages for the staff and grooms, a vast apple orchard, gardens full of beds of sunflowers, squash, and more.

The family themselves lived in a typical country manor house, built of local stone and dark-stained wood. The gables had been carved to resemble horse heads, and the heavy front door had been tooled with a prancing horse on the face. Mats of thick ivy clung to the north and eastern walls. It was a handsome house, one Aislinn always adored visiting.

"Thank you for keeping me company," she said to Hakon in the few moments of peace they had left.

"Always, my lady," he replied, his gaze serious.

Aislinn looked away and ignored the pitter-patter of her foolish heart.

She grasped the side of the chaise as Hakon disembarked, biting her cheek to keep from giggling as the vehicle swayed with his heaviness. His ears had gone ruddy by the time both feet hit the ground.

When he offered to help her down, Aislinn placed her hand in his much larger one, jumping down.

Wülf, who'd trotted alongside the chaise whenever there wasn't something interesting to sniff, plopped down between them, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Aislinn scratched behind his ear with her nails, and the beast leaned into it.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, suddenly curious as to why Hakon needed to visit the Brádaigh estate.

"I have business with Orek. Then we're off to congratulate a friend on his new farm."

Aislinn smiled in pleasure. "Yes, Varon. I hope he's settling in well. Please give him my best."

His face cracked with his own smile. "I will, my lady."

Fates, when he smiled down at her like that, her thoughts just melted right away. She could stand there looking back for—

"It's Aislinn!"

The peace was broken by squeals of delight, and then they and the chaise were swarmed by the younger Brádaigh siblings. Their antics incited Wülf, who barked and pranced around the chaise with them.

Giggling, Blaire, the penultimate sibling, patted him on the head and said with a grin, "I think he's big enough to draw the cart himself."

"Yes, but he's not disciplined enough," replied Hakon. "He chases after every squirrel he sees."

Keeley, the youngest, laughed and threw her arms around Wülf, who was taller than her sitting on his haunches.

"He's always been so patient with them."

Sorcha joined them, an affectionate smile making all those freckles on her face dance. Her green eyes sparkled, and Aislinn swore her friend was glowing. Happiness looks good on her.

She'd always worried about Sorcha overworking herself—acting as another parent to her many siblings while her father was away with Aislinn's, helping her mother run the family business, and overseeing the running of the estate itself. It was many burdens to bear for one person, and it was why she thought she and Sorcha got on so well. They understood each other.

Aislinn threw her arms around Sorcha, quickly enveloped in the taller woman's voluminous curls and strong arms. Sorcha rocked them back and forth, laughing.

"You didn't tell me you were bringing a blacksmith along."

"Happy happenstance," Aislinn quipped, finally leaning back to smile at Hakon over her shoulder.

"It's good to see you, Hakon," said Sorcha. "Are you going with Orek to Varon's new farm?"

"Yes. It will be good to see everyone."

Sorcha waggled her brows. "Everyone will want to know the gossip from the castle." She cast Aislinn a significant look. "Me included."

The children asked Hakon a few more questions, like how he was enjoying his position at the castle and what Wülf liked to do there, before Sorcha directed him to find Orek at the new house—the one she was strictly forbidden from peeking inside until it was done. She couldn't hide her jealousy as Hakon walked off with Wülf in search of Orek.

Aislinn pinched Sorcha's waist, making her giggle involuntarily.

"You'll get to see inside soon enough," Aislinn reminded her.

" Not soon enough," Sorcha insisted. "It's driving me insane. You try having a big, wonderful secret right next door."

Aislinn snorted with laughter as Sorcha led her into the house.