“Help me keep her comfortable. We’ll take turns through the night … she mustn’t be left alone. And we’ll need to get my healing brew into her, even if she fights it.”
Alec nodded jerkily. A moment later, he resumed bathing Liza’s face, and the tenderness in that simple gesture—the love—made Craeg’s throat constrict.
If she dies, it will destroy him.
Hazel strained the brew she’d been steeping and brought it to the bedside. “Lady Liza,” she said softly. “I need ye to drink this. Can ye sit up for me?”
Liza’s eyes opened again, but they were glassy. “Who—?”
“My name’s Hazel. I’m here to help ye.” She slipped an arm behind Liza’s shoulders, supporting her with surprising strength. “Just a few sips.”
But when she held the cup to Liza’s lips, his mother turned her head away, mumbling incoherently. Fighting.
“Ma.” Craeg moved forward, unable to stay back any longer. “Ye need to drink. Please.”
At the sound of his voice, Liza’s gaze found his. For a moment—just a heartbeat—clarity flickered in her fever-bright eyes. “Craeg?”
“Aye. I’m here.” He dropped to his knees beside the bed, on the opposite side to Alec, taking her free hand in both of his. It was burning hot, as dry as parchment. “Please, Ma. Drink. For me.”
Something in his voice must have reached her. She let Hazel tip the cup to her lips and took a small sip.Then another. The brew dribbled down her chin, but she swallowed some of it.
“That’s better,” Hazel murmured, her voice soothing.
When half the cup was gone, Liza turned her head away again, exhausted by the effort. Her eyes closed. Hazel eased her back against the pillows. “That’ll do for now … but she’ll need to drink more shortly.”
Craeg stayed kneeling there, gripping his mother’s hand as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. Maybe it was.
“I should have called ye yesterday, Hazel,” he said finally. Guilt clenched hard in his chest. “But I thought a night’s sleep would see her right.”
“Ye weren’t to know,” Hazel replied, cutting him a sympathetic glance. She then moved back to her basket, pulling out more herbs and a jar of what looked like rendered fat. “And I’m here now.”
The sharp scent of garlic filled the air as she worked, mixing ingredients in a small bowl. Goose grease, Craeg realized. She was making a poultice.
“This goes on her chest,” Hazel explained, warming the mixture over the fire. “It’ll help break up the congestion.”
Alec nodded, his expression raw. When Hazel returned to the bedside, he shifted back with obvious reluctance, not wanting to leave his wife’s side for even a moment.
Hazel unlaced the neck of Liza’s shift, exposing the skin above her breasts, and began spreading the warm poultice across her chest. The smell was pungent—garlic and something sharply herbal that made Craeg’s eyes water.
But his mother’s breathing seemed to ease almost immediately. The tight, wheezing sound in her chest loosened slightly.
“There,” Hazel said, covering the poultice with a square of linen. “I’ll change this later on.”
Watching her work—those steady, capable hands, that unshakeable calm—settled the drumming of Craeg’s heart. There was no panic in Hazel’s movements, no fear. Just competence and quiet determination. She knew what she was doing. More than that, she cared. He could see it in the gentle way she touched his mother, in the patience with which she’d coaxed her to drink.
“How long before we know if it’s working?” he asked after a spell.
Hazel glanced at him once more, her gaze steady. “The fever should start to break by tonight, if the willow bark does its work. But the lung sickness …” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “That will take longer. Days, possibly.”
A brittle silence settled over the chamber.
A nerve jumped in Alec’s cheek as he nodded. Meanwhile, Lena grabbed her father’s hand, gripping tight.
Craeg drew in a slow, deep breath. They all had to be patient. They had to wait this out.
“I’ll stay,” Hazel said then, surveying their stricken faces before she met Craeg’s eye again. “For as long as she needs me. I won’t leave her.”
11: A MOMENT OF MADNESS
