Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire) (3 page)

The Kingdom of Arianrhod was nestled center and slightly south in the land of Àlainnshire. Arianrhod meant
Silver Circle
in an ancient tongue whose origins were lost to the mists of time. No one knew what the ancients who first settled here were describing with those words, but Aislin rather suspected it was the many silvery blue lakes, so deep and cold that a perpetual white mist hung above them. Still others said it was the many rounded hills of smooth silver gray stone that had been used to build so many of the shops in the village.

This land was beautiful in any language: craggy black mountains at the edge of the kingdom stood sentry over rolling purple hills covered with ancient forests. The hills swept down here and there, shrugging off some of the large oak and willow trees to the flat lowlands, finally giving way to lush fields of wildflowers and clover.

The village of Arianrhod was located near the center of the kingdom in a valley that had proved to be quite fertile. The tall mountains surrounding it sheltered the village, cradling it like a babe in arms. Though there were some people living in the outlying areas of the kingdom, most of the population lived in the village.

All of the surrounding kingdoms had castles, large and imposing, that could be seen for miles rising up out of the forests. Aislin’s ancestors had built something a little different for its royal family. The manor house was unique to Arianrhod. She’d never seen another one like it anywhere.

Made of the buttery smooth silver stone quarried from the hills nearby, the house was a perfect square on top of a rather imposing flattened hill, no doubt sited for ease of defense. It was only three stories in height, with apartments for each member of the family on the top two floors. Round towers, open to the sky, anchored the four corners of the building, and high windows were set an equal distance apart on all four sides and in the towers. A high wall of various colored stone enclosed the house and several acres of land within its protective boundaries.

Surrounding the wall around the manor house was a wide cobblestone roundabout, another silver circle of sorts, paved with the same stone that had been used to build the house. With the manor house in the center, the lanes of the village struck off like spokes on a wheel.

Down these lanes, the various workers and artisans toiled at their crafts: chandler, blacksmith, barrel and wagon maker down one lane; baker, brewer, and winemaker down another. Weaver, tanner, and cobbler—each had a little shop on one of the lanes. The sound of industry and the smell of the best bread in the land filled the air. Aislin inhaled deeply. Her kingdom was self sufficient, and she was determined to keep it that way.

The widest lane began outside the iron gate of the manor house wall and led down the hill to the massive winter storehouses of food, the livestock barns, and stables full of the finest horses ever bred. Beyond them were the orchards—the lifeblood of Arianrhod. The surrounding kingdoms bought and bartered for the fruit they produced, and the inhabitants of the village all worked together during the harvest.

Aislin felt the melancholy mood she was in when she left the stables ease as she neared the manor house. She stopped and gazed up at the front of her home.

When she was young, she had always felt as though the manor house was trying to spit her out, to rid itself of the wild child that knew no boundaries and had no fear. Now, as she stood looking up at it, the house seemed like it was smiling at her, welcoming her home, the iron gate open like a pair of loving arms. She smiled back.

Chapter Four

August 15, 1692

Kingdom of Arianrhod

A
ISLIN LOOKED UP FROM THE pile of papers in her lap when Devin called her name from the front of the storehouse.

“I’m back here, Dev. Surrounded by apples!” she called back.

The wooden floorboards creaked as he walked back. He appeared around the pile of bulging burlap sacks in front of her. “Your mother sent me to tell you that Roderic just arrived from Wyndham. She wants you to stop what you’re doing and come up to the house. She’s having a dinner in his honor tonight.”

“Yes, Mother,” said Aislin under her breath, rather grumpily, as she wiped a sticky hand over her brow. She usually ignored an order like that from her mother, especially during harvest, but she needed a break. She was trying to take a final inventory, and she was beginning to see apples in her sleep.

She bathed quickly, dressed in a gown of cream velvet and burgundy silk and pushed her hair into a messy chignon on her head. A little dab of blush on each cheek, and she was ready to go. It had been years since Roderic was home, and she was excited to see him.

Lifting the hem of her gown, she ran down the wide stone stairs into the entrance hall and pushed open the massive oak door at the back. The summer heat and humidity hit her like a wave, and she stood for just a moment enjoying the feel of the sun-dappled courtyard. It was one of her favorite places in the manor house, with its splashing four-tier fountain, tiled terrace, and songbirds swooping in and out for a drink.

Another large door on the left, half-hidden in the lush foliage, led to the dining hall. Aislin pushed it open, her heart pounding with anticipation.

Roderic stood with his back to her, talking to her sister-in-law, the former Queen Gwenyd. Aislin crept up behind him. Gwen’s quick glance over his shoulder gave her away, and he turned.

“Aislin! By the gods, you’re as beautiful as I remember you!” Roderic said as he pulled her into his arms.

“You’ve spent far too many years away from us, Rod. Let me look at you!” she laughed.

He hadn’t changed a bit, though the dark hair and mustache were now peppered with liberal amounts of silver. His kind gray eyes had a few more creases at the corner, but that was no doubt from abundant laughter. He’d always had an elegant, refined quality about him, and Aislin was glad to see that was still the case. Her heart sang as she looked him over, and then she kissed him quickly on the lips. A flicker of shock and delight played across his face.

The savory smell of food and the hum of conversation filled the dining hall, as servants darted here and there with large platters of meats and other dishes. Roderic kept them all entertained with stories of his life at Wyndham. Aislin sat at the table, her chin in her hand, listening with a smile. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed herself this much.

The family moved to the sewing room after dinner to chat, but Aislin stayed behind in the dining hall. She picked over the remnants of the apple cobbler in front of her and listened to the servants’ laughter as they cleaned up.

Of all of the rooms in the manor house, the sewing room was Aislin’s
least
favorite. She avoided it if she could. The room was beautiful, with its multi-colored stone walls and rich purple and gold tapestries, but most of the time she felt suffocated there. It had often served as a virtual torture chamber in her youth, as her mother attempted to teach her to sew and impress the finer points of being a lady. To say that it had been a trial for both of them was an understatement. Aislin still didn’t know the first thing about sewing.

She’d have to go up sooner or later, but she wanted some time for herself first.

A shadow passed over the table in front of her. She looked up from her musings to see Roderic.

“Are you coming up with us?” he asked.

“In a little while. I just want to sit here and collect my thoughts for a few minutes.”

Roderic sat down across from her. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just don’t particularly enjoy being in the sewing room.”

“Ah, yes,” Roderic said, stroking his mustache. “I remember Princess Aislin’s sewing lessons very well.”

Aislin laughed and patted his arm. “I imagine you do. Some of them were rather...
loud
...weren’t they?”

He grinned. “To say the least. Some days we could hear you down at the stables.”

Aislin laughed again. “I’m so glad to see you, Roderic. I’ve missed you.”

“I have something to show you. I wanted you to see it first.” Roderic withdrew a small canvas from the satchel he carried with him. Aislin lifted her chin trying to see the painting around his slender hands, but he kept it turned away from her.

“Don’t tease me. Who is that?” she asked.

She caught her breath as Roderic turned it around. The room felt as though it had been vacuumed of oxygen.

The oil painting featured a sandy-haired boy, dressed in a tunic of purple and gold, with the shield of Arianrhod embroidered on the breast. A lop-sided smile spread across his face, and a glint of playful deviltry gleamed in his golden brown eyes.

Aislin was breathless as she ran her fingertips over the face in the picture. A tumble of memories came to her, so vivid they were painful.

“Is this...is this
Bryce
?” she asked, lifting her eyes to Roderic’s.

“It is. I thought maybe you’d like to see what a fine young man your nephew has become.”

“His eyes. His eyes are...are Fionn’s,” she said in a whisper. Her own eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, come now, Aislin,” said Roderic, as he handed her his kerchief. “I didn’t intend to make you cry.”

“I can’t help it. He looks so much like my brother.” She put a hand to her cheek. “Has Gwen seen this yet?”

“No. I’d like you to be there when I show it to her.” Roderic gave her a hopeful look as he put the painting away.

“She hasn’t seen his face for almost eleven years,” Aislin said, sniffling. “You go on up. I’ll be right there. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Roderic Warren had forgotten how much he loved Arianrhod, the land of his birth. He’d been in Wyndham with Prince Bryce for the last ten and a half years, and he’d been so busy there, he hadn’t had time to miss it much. Now that he was home, the smallest things were triggering a flood of memories, both good and bad. He’d been reluctant to make the trip, but now he was glad he’d come.

It filled him with joy to see Aislin, and the refined, elegant woman she had become. She had not had the best of childhoods. In fact, she’d been a dirty, scrappy little hellcat as a child.

He pushed open the large oak door into the sewing room. Aislin’s mother Emara, Gwen, and Maeve looked up as he entered. The three women were sitting on stools by the open window, each drawing needle and thread through cloth held taut by an embroidery hoop.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” said Gwen, looking up at Roderic shyly. “Where is Aislin?”

“Still down in the dining hall. She’ll be along directly.”

Emara pursed her lips with displeasure. “I wouldn’t hold my breath. My daughter does things in her own good time. I should be surprised if she makes it up here at all.”

Roderic frowned at her tone. “She’ll come. She said she would.”

Aislin wanted to go to the sewing room in the right frame of mind, so she finished her cobbler and helped the kitchen staff clear the rest of the dishes from the table.

She pushed through the door into the courtyard, but she didn’t get very far. The fountain called to her, and she sat down on the edge. Removing her shoes, she swung her feet into the fountain and splashed absent-mindedly, watching butterflies go from flower to flower. It was peaceful here, and she was loath to give it up.

You can’t put this off forever. Just go up there and get it over with
.

Sighing, she pulled her feet out of the fountain, picked up her shoes, and headed for the door into the entrance hall.

The noises were subtle at first, but they were out of place for such a beautiful day. She went still at the banging, shouts, and shuffling, her hand lightly touching the door latch, trying to decide if she’d heard them at all.

And then they grew louder. Added to the cacophony were horses shrieking and men’s voices, angry and belligerent. She tilted her head, trying to make sense of what she was hearing.

There was something ominous about the sounds. Dropping her shoes, she pushed through the door. The entrance hall was empty, but the discordant noises continued outside.

Pulling open the front door, she took a few tentative steps outside onto the walkway and froze.

Judging from the things she was hearing, there was a battle raging outside the stone wall surrounding the manor house.

Roderic was still frowning a half hour later. Aislin had not come, and her mother was growing increasingly agitated. Making small talk while waiting for Aislin had only added to the tension.