“You have been that way your entire life.”
“Would you have me any other way?”
William shook his head and stood up. “I would not,” he said. “At least you are predictable in that way. Now, let us see to Gar. It gives me comfort knowing you will help him if you can.”
Paris stood up beside him, wearily. “I will always help if I can,” he said. “But I am sincerely sorry this happened to Gar. I like him, William. He’s a good lad.”
William was trying not to let his sadness overwhelm him. “He is,” he said. “But his wife… You’ve not met her yet, Paris. She has been incredibly good for him. Her brother was killed when the Scots breached the castle and now with Gar wounded, she has a very heavy burden to bear.”
Paris could see the pain in William’s expression. Paris may have many qualities, but a lack of empathy wasn’t among them. He was surprisingly compassionate even if he didn’t show it.
But he would show it now.
“Then let me see if I can help ease it,” he said quietly. “Take me to her.”
William nodded, heading toward the stairwell that led to the upper floors with Paris on his heels. His wife and Scott were competent healers, but Paris had knowledge that ran deep. William could only pray it was deep enough to spare Gar because he couldn’t stomach the alternative.
God help them, he hoped it was a tragedy they would all live through.
*
He looked likehe was sleeping.
Sitting in a chair next to the bed she and Gar shared, Mattie could only stare at the man who, she was told, was stable for the time being. But that could change. The fever he’d had since yesterday was moderate, but fevers were never a good thing, especially when it came to an injury. Mattie didn’t know much about injuries, only what she’d seen after the Scots had rushed the gatehouse, but she knew that the injury Gar had suffered was worse than anything she’d seen to date.
She knew it was bad.
When they’d first brought him up to the chamber, she’d tried to help, but her shock had gotten the better of her and, had Jordan not forced her to sit down, she probably would have made a fool of herself and fainted right onto the floor. Instead, she sat in a chair like a weakling, watching people who knew what they were doing tend to her injured husband, who was coming in and out of consciousness at that point. He came out long enough to extend a hand to Mattie and assure her that all would be well, but those were the last words she’d heard from him.
He’d been silent for almost three days.
Three days that started with Jordan and Scott inspecting the biggest, most horrific gash that Mattie had ever seen. She couldonly look at it for a couple of seconds before her gag reflex kicked in and she had to look away or risk getting sick. She was terribly embarrassed at her reaction, but the truth was that she’d never seen so much blood on a human being in her life. Suddenly,Cù folatook on a whole new meaning.
Blood wolf.
Someone had bloodied the Wolfe.
Between Scott and Jordan, they managed to cleanse the wound with wine before stitching it tightly with what turned out to be fifty-five sutures. Mattie had heard them say so. Fifty-five sutures in Gar’s trim torso. Once the cleaning and stitching was done, she had, indeed, vomited.
She simply couldn’t help it.
After her husband had been tended, and his torso wrapped tightly, the situation had settled down until Troy appeared later that night to gently tell Mattie that Maksim had been killed in the attack. At first, she hadn’t really understood his words. They made no sense. It simply wasn’t possible that Maksim could have been killed, because he was a skilled knight. She had only just seen him yesterday. Moreover, he had been excited to establish his legacy, so he couldn’t be dead due to something as random as a Scots raid.
But he was.
Still, she refused to believe it.
Against Troy’s better judgment, he heeded her request to see her brother for herself and took her down to the sublevels, near the kitchen, where they were storing the dead in the cold, dark vault. There were about a dozen bodies down there, covered up, and Troy took her to one in particular that was on a table. Carefully, he peeled back the blanket that was covering the head to reveal that it was, in fact, Maksim. He had been dead for several hours, so his face was mottled in color and his mouth wasopen, his jaw tightening in the throes of decay. It hardly looked like her brother at all, but it was.
Maksim was actually dead.
Throwing herself across her brother’s corpse, Mattie wept hysterically.
She wasn’t even sure how long she remained with him, weeping, apologizing over and over. She didn’t know why she was apologizing to him, only that she was. She was sorry for the life he would never lead, the children he would never have. She was sorry for all of those things, but most of all, she was sorry to lose her only sibling. They’d come to Gleann na Fola with such hope.
Now, hope was gone.
The pain was unbearable.
