Chapter 1715: The Wrong Idea
Chapter 1715: The Wrong Idea
Ashlynn slumped in her chair after Lady Tosha and Riwal left. For several moments, she leaned back into the plush upholstery of the armchair, closing her eyes and listening to the echo of Nyrielle’s heartbeat within her chest.
"I wish you were here, my love," Ashlynn whispered. "I wish I had your strength with me," she added a few heartbeats later, resting her hand on her chest to feel the reassuring presence of her lover’s heartbeat within her chest.
She’d known, before she ever stormed the manor, that it would be like this. She could only hold the lords of the march for so long before things began to crack. A few days, at most, to weld them together enough that they could withstand meeting with Nyrielle and the Eldritch neighbors who had been their enemies for generations.
Then the real work would begin, but at least she would have Nyri to lean on, along with Heila and Thane. Ollie and Isabell were both doing a great deal for her, but Ollie wouldn’t be staying much longer, and Isabell was every bit as overwhelmed as she was.
Part of her wanted to turn things on their head even sooner, to hold her meetings during the long hours of the night so she could sleep away the day in dreams with her lover. In a few days, she would. Today, however, she had to strike while the iron was hot, even if that meant pushing through things alone.
Still, for a few precious moments, she relaxed as much as she could until a soft knock at the door announced the arrival of her next guests.
Wes Iriso reminded her in many ways of Baron Mervyn Stormwarden, though physically, they were very distinct men. Where Baron Mervyn was dark-skinned with his head shaved bare, Wes Iriso was fair, and he wore his dark hair in a short, practical tail gathered at the base of his head. But as different as both men looked at first glance, their hands told entirely different stories.
Mervyn could crew any station on one of her father’s dromons, and his hands bore the callouses of hauling on ropes and hurling harpoons. When Ashlynn looked at Wes Iriso, she saw the sharp, thin scars that had come from rolling up his sleeves to work alongside the quarrymen of his barony and all the shards of rock that embedded themselves in his flesh over the years.
"Your Dominion," Wes said, giving her a slightly awkward Eldritch salute as he entered.
"Your Ladyship," the woman entering next to him said, giving Ashlynn the most minimal of curtseys while wearing a sour expression on her broad face.
"Sorcha," Wes hissed quietly, but his warning did nothing to make things better.
"What?" Sorcha said, glaring at her husband before turning her ire on Ashlynn. "We’re supposed to give over everything to worship the ground she walks on? I heard the ’lessons’ you had Lord Liam giving in the Great Hall, ’your Dominion,’" she said, twisting the word around her tongue until it sounded more like an insult than an honorific.
"Your sister wasn’t nearly so imperious when she was about to take the throne," Sorcha said, folding her arms across her wide chest as she glowered at Ashlynn. "I felt sorry for her, losing such a kind and caring big sister. Now I feel sorry for her that you’ve come back from the dead," she spat.
"Sorcha!" Wes snapped, his eyes going wide in panic as he watched a pained look flicker across Ashlynn’s face. She suppressed it quickly, adopting an impassive mask that covered up whatever she’d felt in response to Sorcha’s tongue lashing, but he knew that his wife had crossed a line she shouldn’t have. "That’s going too far, Sorcha, you..."
"It is not going too far!" Sorcha roared, refusing to be silenced. "She’s got Jocelynn locked up under guard, and she’s keeping her from coming to see the rest of us, and that’s not right. And we still don’t know what she said to Erling, but he’s a good man, Light blast me if he isn’t."
"I’ve never seen him looking so shaken as when he came back from meeting with ’her Dominion,’ but he wouldn’t speak a word of it, even to you, Wes," Sorcha said. "And poor little Adala went running through the halls as soon as she left her ’audience.’ I’ve never seen a lady so proper lose her decorum like that, but just a quarter of an hour with ’her Dominion,’ and she’s running like a frightened hare."
"Well, I won’t stand for her bullying you," Sorcha said, planting her thick, meaty fists on her wide hips as she glared at Ashlynn. "I won’t go bowing and scraping just because everyone else is frightened. You can kill me if you want, but then everyone will know what a tyrant you are now that you’re on the throne and..."
"Lady Sorcha, please," Ashlynn said, holding up a hand as she interrupted the other woman. "I think you have the wrong idea about what’s happening here," she said, allowing the sting of Sorcha’s comments about Jocelynn to drain away as she imagined Lady Sorcha standing next to Virve and looking every bit as fierce.
Perhaps she should give Sorcha a set of darksteel fighting gauntlets of her own after this, Ashlynn thought, barely holding back a giggle at the notion.
"If I have it wrong then I’ll apologize," Sorcha said, striding across the room to drop into the chair opposite Ashlynn. "I’ll have you know that we’re all very grateful for what you did last night, for you and Sir Ollie and Master Isabell too. All of you. You freed us from a horrible man and a dangerous curse, and we’re grateful," she said, in a tone that was filled with several sharp barbs wrapped around a core of genuine gratitude.
"But just because you’re the hero of the day, it doesn’t mean you get to bully everyone as you see fit," Sorcha insisted. "Wes is better mannered than I am. He was raised to be a lord and compromise even when he shouldn’t, but I won’t let you walk all over him the way you walked over everyone else."
"He stood up for you, just like Erling did," Sorcha said, stabbing the low table with a thick finger as she made her points. "He deserves some thanks for that, and the respect that’s due a baron who fights for his people and works for them too," she fumed.
"I agree," Ashlynn said mildly as she gestured for Wes to join his wife in a chair across the table from her. "I offered Erling status similar to a count’s, to rule over the combined lands of Fayle, Leufroy and LeGleau," Ashlynn explained as a mischievous glint formed in her eyes.
"I had been considering asking your husband to take on similar responsibilities," Ashlynn added. "Or is that too much bullying?"