Fergus almost smiled. “Aye.”
He was looking forward to interrogating the man. He could take out his anger on someone who deserved it for once.
Lottie’s door was open, and Aiden brightened when he saw Lottie sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Ye look… better,” Aiden said, and Fergus was pretty sure he was going to say “beautiful” but thought better of it, given Fergus’ bad mood.
“Aye?” Lottie asked, breaking out in a smile that made Fergus’ chest ache.
He saw her at six years old, when their parents died, her eyes streaming tears as she looked up at him, asking what they would do now.
She did look better; her cheeks were still too flushed, but she was not deathly pale everywhere else as before.
Aiden reached out as if to take Lottie’s hand but then seemed to think better of it, moving away.
He did sit next to her, though, with a chaste foot between them.
Lottie leaned into him, smiling up at him with the moon in her eyes. Aiden stared back at her for a yearning moment then flushed beet red.
Fergus fought back a smile, and when he looked at Jeane, the corners of her lips were twitching, too.
“Am I better, Liliana?”
Jeane paused for a moment and then smiled at Lottie.
“Nae yet,” she warned. “Ye still need plenty of rest.”
She turned, looking startled when she saw Fergus.
Fergus gritted his teeth. Was she revolted by the way he looked? His scars?
“What have ye done?” she fussed, walking over to him and yanking up his tunic. She tsked. “Ye’ve opened up yer stitches.”
Fergus did not respond, just drew in a sharp breath when her fingers danced over the edges of the wound.
“Maybe ye didnae do as good a job as I thought,” Fergus snarled, and he knew he was being difficult, but he could not help it.
He was sulking like a child.
Jeane huffed out a breath, ushering him to a nearby chair in Lottie’s room.
Aiden perched on the end of Lottie’s bed, feeding her barley soup, which Mary must have brought in earlier.
“Have ye given me sister her medicine?” he asked. “Because if ye?—”
“Lottie is all taken care of,” Jeane assured him. “She actually listens to me, unlike ye.”
He huffed out a breath through his nostrils, annoyed. “I have to train. I cannae just sit around, waitin’ for the wound to heal.”
“Aye, well, it’s only been a few days since I stitched it; ye could have rested at least a wee bit.”
“I have things to do.”
“Ye cannae do any of those things while ye’re bleedin’, can ye?” she shot back.
Lottie and Aiden looked over at them, bemused expressions on each of their faces. They were in their own little world most of the time, focused on each other, but now, Fergus was annoyed by their curious gazes.
He glared at them, and they turned back to each other, Lottie shaking her head.
