James could only think of one person who had both the desire and the power to make these two men do this. And yet, even though the answer to his own question was on the tip of his tongue, he refused to utter it. He refused to even think about it, the implications too severe to consider.
It cannae be. Perhaps they were bought by someone. Perhaps they were bribed by the enemy.
Which enemy, James couldn’t figure out. And yet, there was surely someone who could have grasped the opportunity of this feast to attack. Or it could have been Alastair.
Out of everyone in that castle, he was the one who had the most to lose when it came to this marriage never happening. He was the most likely suspect, but James didn’t know how to accuse him of such a thing without hard evidence.
“Guards!” James called. “Guards!”
It took only moments for more guards to appear from all sides, the six men who made it to the corridor staring at the other two in surprise. They all glanced at each other, no one knowing whatto say or do when faced with the possibility of having to attack two of their own.
“Take them tae the dungeons,” James commanded as he stepped up to the men and took Freya from them, holding her securely in his arms. He would not let anyone else touch her, not when he didn’t know who the enemy may be.
As the soldiers marched the two men to the dungeons, James carried Freya to his own rooms. His heart beat fast, bile rose to the back of his throat. The thought that something may have happened to her was too much to bear and as he laid her on his bed, he found himself suddenly drenched in cold sweat. To calm himself, he pressed his fingers against the pulse point on her neck, feeling the rush of blood in her veins. It was strong and steady, if a little slow, but that wasn’t enough to calm him.
Even though she was alive, she was unconscious, and as James looked for any signs of injury, he found blood, dried and crusted, on the back of her head. And the longer she stayed like that, the more James feared for her. He knew better than anyone what a hit to the head could do.
The healer… she’ll ken what tae dae.
Reluctant though he was to leave Freya’s side, James rushed out of his chambers to look for a guard to send him to fetch the healer. The moment he managed to find one, he returned to his chambers and ran to the bed once more, sitting next to Freya, who was still unconscious, but otherwise unharmed.
“It will all be fine,” he promised her, though she couldn’t hear him. He was mostly trying to convince himself, to reassure himself that she would soon be awake again. “It will all be fine, me love. Dinnae fash.”
Once, not so long ago, she had cared for him. Now, it was his turn to care for her.
James jumped, startled, when Freya woke up with a gasp, shooting up off the bed. The healer had placed a small jar of smelling salts under her nose and they had worked instantly to wake her—but also to make her cough and sputter as she was assaulted by the foul odor.
“There ye are,” said the healer, pleased with the results of her efforts. “How are ye feeling?”
Freya looked at the woman first, then at James, her brow furrowed in confusion. After a few moments, she winced, her hand flying to the back of her head where she had sustained the injury.
“What happened?” she asked, hissing in pain when her fingers found the wound. She looked at her fingers, but there was no blood there, as it had long since dried out. “Am I hurt?”
“A little,” the healer said. “But ye’ll be fine. Daes yer head hurt?”
“Och aye,” said Freya. “A little.”
“Ye were hit,” the healer explained. “By the looks of it, it was a dirk.”
With a pinched expression, the healer looked at Freya’s eyes carefully under the light of a candle. Then, she had Freya repeat a series of movements before she finally let her lie back down, satisfied.
“Ye’ll be fine,” she assured her. “I’ll give ye something fer the pain and dress the wound, but it daesnae seem like ye’ll have any long-lasting damage.”
James was familiar with everything the healer did, as Freya had done the same to him when he had woken in her hut. Still, it wasn’t until the healer said everything would be fine that he breathed a sigh of relief, the fear draining out of him.
Once she had cleaned and dressed the wound, James and Freya were finally left alone. He had no idea what had happened at the feast, nor did he care. He was certain his father had been informed of everything, but other than that, he didn’t know if the feast had come to an abrupt end or if it had continued so as to not raise any suspicion among the guests.
“How are ye feeling?” he asked Freya as he settled next to her, pulling her in his arms. Freya burrowed close, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he held her.
“I’m alright,” she assured him. “More scared than anything else.”
“I cannae blame ye,” he told her as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. “Forgive me… I should have kent something was wrong earlier.”
“Ye couldnae have kent,” Freya pointed out, craning her neck to look at him. “Dinnae blame yerself fer this, James, please.”
“I’ll protect ye. I promise,” he said, disregarding her reassurances simply because he couldn’t help but blame himself for all this. “Naething like this will ever happen tae ye again.”
He would make sure of it. No matter what, he would never leave Freya out of his sight until he knew for certain she was safe within those walls.
