CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Elsy
Elsy pressed the rag into the boy’s skin, careful to treat him gently. She had sent Connell away at least an hour ago after his man, Brann, brought a bucket of water and a towel for her to clean Scott’s skin with. The water was cool to the touch and would help to bring down the boy’s fever. She also opened the window, knowing fresh air would be beneficial. However, it was difficult to tell what afflicted the child. Her father’s books had been in her trunk, which she supposed was still atop the carriage at the crossroads. It had also been years since she cared for anyone. She felt out of practice.
Scott groaned, his hands fisting while his head jerked to the side. His face was so pale. Sweat dripped from his temple. But it wasn’t the sweating sickness. The boy had no cough. The only thing she could assume at this point was the boy had something foul to eat or drink. However, there was no vomit or other bodily secretions. She pressed the cloth against Scott’s brow, frowning when the boy wrenched to the side, his hands clutching the blankets.
Elsy threw the cloth into the bucket before rising and striding toward the door. She rapped her knuckles against the wood, waiting for the door to unlock and open. Connell stood on the other side, his arms crossed, yet his brows were tented with worry.
“Is he alright?”
“Can ye grab me some more blankets?” Elsy asked while peeking over his shoulder, finding Brann pacing behind Connell. “We may need to sweat the fever out of him.”
Connell glanced over his shoulder and without a single word, Brann nodded, turned on his heel, and ran down the corridor to do Elsy’s bidding. “Is that all?” Connell asked while turning back to face her, his gaze softening.
“Perhaps some bread later. Unless ye have some broth?”
Connell shook his head. “Nae broth. We only have bread and a bit of cheese. Unless Logan has finished it all.”
“Bread it is then,” Elsy said with a curt nod, slowly closing the door.
Connell grabbed the door, halting her attempts to close it. He stepped forward, making her eyes widen as he towered above her. “Will Scott live?” Connell asked, his voice cracking on the words.
Elsy’s gaze softened, and she sighed while pushing her hair away from her face. “Tis too soon to tell. His fever still has ahold of his body. We will have to wait and see what happens in the night.”
Connell nodded, his face looking pained. “Of course.”
Elsy ground her teeth, hating the pain on Connell’s face, yet knowing he could react like this to a child in need gave her the hope she had been desperate to find. Connell wasn’t the cruel man he pretended to be. He still cared for others.
“I will inform ye of any changes to his health,” she said while slowly closing the door.
“Thank ye, Elsy,” she heard Connell’s soft voice.
With a soft click, the door was closed. Elsy leaned against it, tilting her head back while blinking away the tears prickling her eyes. She knocked the crown of her head lightly against the wood, wondering why she was still in this terrible fortress. She could have left in the night, yet she had decided to stay.
Why? she asked herself, yet no answer came to her. Were the wolves in this fortress any less terrifying than the ones in the wood? She couldn’t understand it. If the brigand had been anyone, but Connell, she would have fought tooth and nail to ensure her escape, even if that meant injuring her foot or falling to her death.
But the moment she had seen Connell, the moment she realized he was alive, everything changed. She felt her heart beating in her throat, could hear it thumping in her ears. It was foolish of her to stay. Yet, at the same time, it would have been foolish to leave. Either way she was dead. At least this way she could speak with Connell, get him to listen and understand her plight. She didn’t know how much longer she had. Thankfully, she had a skill they needed, but who knew what would happen to her tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that.
Elsy sighed as she pushed herself away from the door, closing the distance between her and the young boy. If she was going to help him, she would need to bathe his entire body with the cool water. She started with Scott’s tunic, pulling the itchy and fraying brown fabric over his shoulders and head and tossing it toward the small trunk in the corner. Her gaze landed on strips of yellowed cloth tied tightly around the boy’s chest. She frowned as she sat on the edge of the bed, tentatively pulling the cloth from his skin.
Why is Scott binding his chest?she wondered. The cloth untied easily, and she unwound it from his body, her eyes widening as she threw the dirty cloth toward the trunk. She pressed her lips together, not knowing what to do or say.
Elsy had seen many things in her father’s cottage. She had cut a man’s rotting leg from his body. She had sewn injuries, helped women give birth, taken arrows out of shoulders, and held the hands of those who were passing on. However, she had never seen this.
“Yer a lass,” Elsy whispered as she stared down at Scott’s naked bosom. As she gazed at Scott’s face, it suddenly made sense. The plump cheeks, the small shoulders, the dainty fingers, covered in callouses and cuts. At first, Elsy thought the boy was merely young, but that hadn’t been the reason at all.
Should I tell Connell?she wondered.Does he know?
But, if Connell and the others did know, why was she hiding in men’s clothing. And why did she call herself Scott.Nae, Elsy thought, her frown deepening as she stared at the girl.They do not know. Should I be the one to reveal the lass’s secret?
The knock at the door was Elsy’s answer, and she found herself lunging for the blanket and pulling it over Scott’s sleeping form. As soon as Scott was covered, she rushed toward the door, opening it ever so slightly.
“I have the blankets,” said Brann while holding out a stack of three folded pieces of cloth, each worn and torn, but better than nothing.
“Thank ye,” Elsy said as she snatched them and slammed the door closed, leaning against it in case the man decided to barge inside. She waited a moment, hearing nothing more than a sharp sigh.
As soon as she was certain noone would enter, Elsy covered Scott in the blankets and then sat at the edge of the bed. She grabbed the rag, gently cleaning Scott’s skin. Her eyes filled with tears, not understanding why someone so young would bind their chest and hide themselves from the world. She wiped the tears from her eyes, wondering what happened in this young girl’s life that she would be scared enough to hide her body from others. Elsy swallowed her tears, focusing on her work.
