Free Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire) by S.L. Jesberger

Roderic fussed over her. He rushed home every day from the stables to rub her feet. If there was a particular food she was craving, he went looking for it and didn’t come home until he’d found it.
    It all went horribly wrong on July 10, 1671. Brianna had gone into labor and the baby was breach. The boy was born dead after many long hours of labor. Brianna died not long after her infant son.
    The deaths of his wife and son nearly destroyed Roderic. After he’d seen to their burial, he went back to the home they’d shared, got into bed, and willed himself to die.
    Taking several of his best men with him, Fionn had forcibly removed Roderic from his home and taken him to the manor house. Though it seemed cruel at the time, it saved his life. Fionn patiently stayed with him, talking to him, feeding him, holding him as he grieved for the future that was now lost.
    As time passed, Roderic began to take an interest in life again. Fionn made him his personal assistant and kept him busy so he wouldn’t have time to think. Eventually, Roderic recovered a sense of purpose. He was invaluable to Fionn when he was crowned King.
    And then Fionn died from the sickness. They’d all held their breath as they watched Roderic slide right back into that dark place. He made it very clear he couldn’t stay in Arianrhod after that, and when someone was needed to take Prince Bryce to Wyndham and stay with him until he was 18, he’d volunteered to do it. They all agreed it was for the best. He’d not been back in Arianrhod until the day he delivered the painting to Gwen.
    Roderic pulled the pig out of the fire. Aislin couldn’t help but think how ironic it was that he was the one on this journey with her after all of these years. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Roderic,” she said, looking up at him with the utmost sincerity.
    “I just wish it was under different circumstances.” Roderic stooped in front of her and handed her a wooden skewer full of pork. “Now if you’re hungry, supper is served.”

Chapter Ten

    A ISLIN STARED INTO THE DARKNESS, listening to Roderic’s soft rhythmic breathing beside her. She’d slept fitfully when she first lay down under the stars. The gray mists of slumber held a threat that was trying to form itself into something more solid, and she didn’t know if she was strong enough to face it.
    The night sky was beautiful and clear, the stars as bright as she’d ever seen them. An owl hooted softly somewhere off in the forest. A quivering sigh escaped her. Though she tried to fight them, hot tears ran down the side of her face and fell onto the backpack under her head.
    She had been so careful, so meticulous, in her care of Arianrhod. Nearly eleven years of sweat and toil, frustration, laughter, and healthy doses of pain thrown in for good measure. She’d been 24 years of age when she took over, and she’d made plenty of mistakes at first. So many wonderful people stood with her, helping her, giving advice. If nothing else, a shoulder to cry on.
    It had been that easy— that damned easy — to sweep it right out from under her and send her fleeing. Jariath knew they had no real army. He simply wanted to prove a point to her. He would have been quite pleased to know that she felt the sting of his point so acutely.
    She searched her memories, trying to determine the moment that he turned from persistent suitor to obsessive aggressor. Jariath had always pursued her with a single-minded intensity that seemed a little strange over the years. The more she told him no, the harder he worked to win her. What had pushed him over the edge into violence?
    She’d first met him at a fruit market in Bellemeade when she was very young, before the sickness hit the kingdom. She’d looked up from her work to find him staring at her. She’d thought him quite handsome. She was young and free then, without a care in the world.
    She’d expected her life to go the way it usually goes for a princess of royal blood.