“Aye. As ye ken, I was down in Ardmore to see about getting some food supplies.”
Kayden nodded. “Did ye succeed?”
Jacob moved his head in a so-so gesture. “Ye ken we’re nae the only ones plagued by redcoats?”
“Aye, I ken. So, what’s the news?”
“Well, it seems that the village nearby isn’t the only one suffering from a mysterious illness. A female healer has been spotted in the borderlands, trying to treat the people there.”
“Ourborderlands?” Kayden asked.
“Aye.”
There was a snort from behind them, and they both turned to see Moira standing a few feet away. “What healer is this? Is it that witch Ailis MacAoidhein?”
Jacob shook his head. “It isnae someone anyone kens.”
Moira folded her arms, looking miffed. “Are they trying to make ye look weak? Lady McGill is working hard to find a cure. Do they nae trust their Laird?”
“We cannae stop healers from plying their trade. It isnae as serious as ye’re trying to make it.” He waved a dismissive hand. “If someone else thinks they can help, there’s nay need to stop them.”
“That isnae the main problem, Cousin,” Jacob said.
Kayden quirked an eyebrow. “Well then, what is?”
“I heard tell that she speaks Gaelic, but is dressed like a Lowlander. Why would she do that?”
Kayden frowned, growing more thoughtful. “Hmm, thatisstrange.”
“Aye,” Jacob agreed.
They stared at each other as they tried to think of a reason for the woman’s behavior.
Moira took a step towards them, also looking concerned. “What are we going to do about this?” she asked.
Jacob took a deep breath. “We need to find her and bring her here. We need to find out her intentions.”
Lilliana was writing in her journal, chronicling the day’s events, when Kayden approached her. She had no set hours, and certainly, there was no way for people to schedule their ailments, but it had been a long day, and she was tired.
She glanced up, her expression expectant as he stood in the doorway, watching her.
“Well—” She broke off.
“Me Lady.” He executed an elegant bow.
She blinked a few times, nonplussed, her cheeks flaming. Her hand dropped when she saw that he was holding onto his left hand with his right one.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, frowning.
He shrugged. “I may need yer skills.” He turned his hand so she could see the wound on his arm.
“Oh!” she exclaimed in distress, before rising from her desk and hurrying over to him. “Come and sit down. What happened?”
He followed her gentle guiding hand to the stool and lowered himself onto it. “A small sparring accident. Nothing to be worried about.”
She examined the injury closely. “You said a sparring accident? What were you pierced by? Was it a sword?”
“Nay. We daenae spar with swords. We use sticks. It was a moment of inattention. A stick broke and cut me. There are probably still splinters in there.”
