“Would ye like me to guess?”
Kayden merely grunted. His sword rang as it clashed with Jacob’s.
“If ye willnae tell me what has yer movements mirrorin’ a blind mule’s.”
Kayden huffed. “Shut it.”
“After what she did yesterday, everyone is talking about her, ye ken. Is she yer wife or yer hostage?”
Kayden frowned. “Why would they say that?”
Jacob paused, placing his sword on the bench before standing to study Kayden, hands on his waist. “They ken ye havenae consummated yer marriage. The whole castle is waiting with bated breath. Ye might have to explain yerself soon. The maids take care of the linen, ye ken?”
Kayden looked away from him. “What happens in me chambers is none of their business,” he sneered.
“Well, I think ye are wrong there, Cousin. The stability and security of the clanistheir business. And servants talk, and they ken ye havenae shared a bed. So, people are confused as to how they should treat her. Especially when ye openly show ye daenae trust her by nae letting her leave the castle.”
Kayden expelled a loud breath as he squatted down, supporting himself with his sword. “I just—It isnae that—” He broke off. “I daenae ken what to do, Jacob,” he sighed.
“It isnae that hard, Cousin.”
“It is because I ken it means far more to her than it should, considering it is just a marriage of convenience.”
“Come now, Kayden. Ye cannae believe that anymore, nae after everyth?—”
“If ye ken what is good for ye, ye willnae finish that thought,” he warned, his patience wearing thin.
“Someone must. So, if ye willnae hear it from me, then find someone ye will hear it from because ye need to hear it!” Jacob retorted, flipping his sword up to rest on his shoulder before stalking away.
Lilliana woke up early and went in search of Old Fergus. After seeing the villagers the day before, she wanted to talk to him about what might be ailing them.
Betsy joined her as they walked towards his cottage, which was at the end of the property, away from the bustle of the castle. She wanted to get away from it because she felt as if everyone was watching her.
She knocked tentatively on Old Fergus’s door, ready for battle if he thought to send her away.
“Lady McGill!” he greeted as soon as he saw her. “What a pleasure it is to see ye. Come in.”
Lilliana and Betsy stepped into his home.
Betsy followed closely as Lilliana followed Old Fergus, looking around curiously. The cottage was surprisingly neat, with nothing out of place—a stark contrast to the state of the healer’s garden and healer’s quarters.
To one side was a bench and a stool, and on the other was a rocking chair decorated with gaily knitted pillows. A fire blazed merrily in the grate, warming the room. To the back of the room stood a table on which sat a variety of herbs.
“Sit down,” Old Fergus said.
Lilliana and Betsy took a seat on the bench, while Old Fergus sat in the rocking chair, his eyes fixed on the roaring fire. He did not seem in a hurry to speak. He simply let them sit.
Eventually, Lilliana drew a breath. “I went to the village yesterday.”
“Ye did?”
“Yes. I did not really see signs of illness. I did treat two children, though. One had a wound on his leg, and the other had the falling sickness. Can you tell me more about the illness? When did it start?”
“Och. Seemed to come with the summer. At first, it was just a few people, but then the number grew. Thought it might be the rats.”
“Are their symptoms plague-like, would you say?”
“Ach, we havenae had the plague around these parts before. It is difficult to ken. But what else could it be?”
