“I’m not in any pain,” I reply. “I think I’m in shock, mostly.”
Ruth nods in understanding.
“You went through something terrifying; it’s okay to need time,” she says evenly. “I was able to heal the wound to your stomach. You had an infection and a large amount of internal bleeding, but I’ve knitted everything back up and given you an infusion draft to restore the lost blood. You’ll be a little sore for a few days, and I’ll give you some more medicine to take, but no lasting damage done.”
I swallow. I’d been right to put myself in Ruth’s capable hands. If I’d stayed at the castle…I might not be here right now.
I take her hand.
“Thank you.”
I can’t find the words to tell her how deep my gratitude goes, but from her expression, I think she knows.
“Here,” she says, and holds out the spoon for me. “Have something to eat. Don’t worry if you can’t finish it all, just take it easy. Everyone recovers at their own speed, Fliss. You can stay here for as long as you want.”
I stir the soup.
“How long has it been?”
“Since you were injured? A week. You spent five nights in the castle and two here.”
“Oh. Okay. Um…” My cheeks turn hot. “How is Will?”
“He’s fine,” Ruth says. “Do you want me to go and get him?”
“Oh, uh…”
Gill headbutts my elbow, as if reminding me to eat.
Ruth smiles. “I’ll let him know you’re awake. Would you like me to get a message to your mum too?”
I nod. Mum knows Ruth. She’ll know that I’m safe here.
“If you can,” I say, “send a cinquefoil. She’ll know what it means.”
Will never comes to see me. In fact, he never shows up at all.
I spend the next few days resting around the cottage with Gill as my constant companion. Ruth told me the bedroom I’m using is for her patients and it’s just to the left of the stairs on the ground floor, so if I’m in there napping in the bed or sitting in the corner reading one of Ruth’s books, the white cat is there too, by my feet, on my lap, or snoozing nearby. If I take a short walk around the garden to remind my legs how to hold my weight, he follows and plays with the butterflies. If Ruth and I have a meal together at the dinner table, Gill paws at my leg for some of the meat. Even Mustard keeps his eye on me from a distance, although he’d hate that I noticed.
The only one missing is Will. Every time I seek him out, he’s nowhere to be found. He circles to the other side of the house or disappears for hours at a time. It wouldn’t be sensible for him to leave thewards, so he’s definitely still here. Somewhere. Wherever he is, he seems determined to avoid me. After lunch on the third day, I bring up Will’s absence to Ruth before she heads out to make some deliveries.
“Don’t tell him I told you,” she says, and points over to the stable that sits on the far side of the field. “He’s been in there since dawn.”
My heart rate shoots up.Finally.Finally I can corner him.
“Good luck,” Ruth says with a smirk so reminiscent of her son that I realize how much I’ve missed him. I’ve wanted to talk about what happened, sure, but I’ve wanted his company too. I want to spend time together. I wanthim.That hasn’t changed.
Once Ruth leaves, I smooth down the violet dress she found for me and steel myself. He is not evading me this time.
I find Will in the stable surrounded by an immense amount of hay, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. I linger by the barn door for a while, just watching. He shovels hay into a stall with an old gray horse in it, who occasionally sniffs and prods Will with his nose. Neither of them notices I’m here, which is fine by me. Compared to the last time I saw him, it’s nice to see him with a healthy pink tinge to his cheeks. And not covered in blood. I’ve never had this much time to take him in without him knowing. He’s wearing those leather trousers again that do wonders for his slim frame, and without his usual jacket, I very much enjoy watching the strain in his arm muscles as he works. His eyes are far away, and from the way he stabs the pitchfork to and fro repeatedly, he hasn’t realized that he should have stopped shoveling a while ago.
“Are you stress-haying?” I ask from the doorway.
Straws of hay jump into the air.
“Good gods, Farrow!” Will says, and holds a hand to his chest. “You scared the life out of me.”
I wander over. Gods, I’m nervous. I’d be great if the anxious twist in my stomach wasn’t so similar to being stabbed. That would be wonderful.
