The warrior visibly swallowed, but clarity crossed his face at what he was about to face. Ferra took his hand in hers, ignoring the coating of blood that was slick on his skin, and gave it a squeeze. “I wilnae leave ye, lad.”
He looked at her, his eyes now starting to glass over. “Mah lady, ’tis an honor.”
She forced a smile. “The honor is mine.” Her stomach turned over as the lad started to cough weakly, blood dribbling out of his mouth. She wanted to do something, anything, to ease not only his pain, but also those that were around him.
He was far too young to be dying like this.
Ferra started to sing to the warrior softly, moving her hand to his hair and stroking it gently as his color started to turn an alarming shade of white. As she felt the last bit of his life drain out of him and the lad was taking his final breaths, Erik joined in, his singing voice rough from disuse.
It wasn’t until the warrior went slack in her arms that Ferra quit, the tears running down her cheeks. She carefully removed her touch from his body and rose from her perch, noting that her hands and clothing were stained with his blood.
A hand settled on her shoulder, and Ferra looked up to find Erik at her side. “Go on, lass,” he said softly, his eyes on the warrior on the pallet. “I will take care of him.”
Ferra couldn’t even form words to thank the second-in-command, but she wasted no time moving away from the scene and swiftly up the stairs to her room, waiting until she was behind the closed door before she slid down against it, the tears flowing in earnest. She and Sorcha had tended to the dead before, though she had never seen someone so young lose his life as he had.
She couldn’t do this.
“Ferra? Lass, open the door.”
Kaiden’s voice was muffled as his fist rattled the door, and Ferra scrambled to her feet, pulling open the door. “Och, lass,” Kaiden said softly, his eyes raking down her body.
“I couldnae save him,” she whispered, dropping her arms to her sides.
Kaiden didn’t respond, instead reaching for her and scooping her up in his arms. Ferra didn’t make a sound as she laid her head on his chest, closing her eyes as he walked away from her room. She didn’t care where he took her. Nothing he could provide was going to take the pain away that had settled in her chest.
She had lost her first patient.
“Yer leg,” she said weakly. “Ye shouldnae be carrying me.”
“I can carry ye just fine, lass,” Kaiden’s words rumbled against her ear.
Soon, she recognized they were in his chamber, and he was laying her on his bed. “Hold on, lass,” he told her, smoothing his hand over her hair. “Rest. I will call for a bath.”
Ferra didn’t have the strength to fight him, her mind continually replaying the warrior’s death and how she was helpless to save him. She had failed him, failed the clan, failed her husband. It mattered not that he wouldn’t have survived his wounds to begin with.
She should have done more.
Ferra must have drifted off into a fitful sleep, for she was awakened with a gentle shake of her shoulders.
“The water is ready,” Kaiden said gruffly.
Sitting up, she kicked off her shoes, suddenly wanting the dried blood off her skin. Sure enough, a steaming tub sat in the midst of the chamber, the smell of fragrant lavender filling the air.
“Can ye bathe yerself?” Kaiden asked softly, his voice echoing in the silent chamber.
“I’m fine, aye,” she whispered, realizing with a rush that they were alone and she was about to undress in front of him. What would he do if she asked him to stay?
She watched as he clenched his fist at his side. “Aye, then I will be just outside. Call if ye need me.”
He turned to go, and Ferra’s throat grew tight. “Wait,” she said, hurrying after him. “Dinnae leave, Kaiden.”
He dropped his head as her hand touched his back, his tunic too dirtied and bloody. She tried not to think of whose it could be. “Och, lass, I cannae stay and not touch ye.”
His words tore at her, and she felt her own body tremble. “I dinnae want ye tae not touch me, Kaiden.”
He turned swiftly, and Ferra found herself locked in his arms, his eyes burning into hers. “Are ye certain, lass?” he asked. “For I wilnae stop this time.”
Ferra licked her lips nervously. “I hope not.”
