After another second, time enough for her to wonder if the butterfly objected to its injury being handled by her child, no matter how carefully, Jamie opened his eyes, lifted his fingers away from the butterfly’s wing and held it up on his palm.
“See, Mamma?”
Aileanna’s mouth fell open as the butterfly shook out its newly healed wing and took to the air, joining the fluttering mass circling near her son. How could he have her talent? A lad? And at such a young age? She took a deep breath, to calm her suddenly racing pulse.
“I did see! ’Tis very good, Jamie.” She bent and hugged him to her, whispering, “That butterfly owes ye its life,” then released him as he squirmed away.
She lifted a hand to her pounding chest as he turned to watch the creature he’d helped, certain he knew exactly which one it was. Her heart nearly burst from her, whether in shock or delight, she couldn’t yet decide. Likely both. She would have much to do to teach her son as she’d been taught, to bear the burden of healing as she did, but even more, to keep him safe in a world that distrusted anyone with her talent. Some might call her a witch, though none among the Lathan clan or their allies would do so. What would strangers think of a lad who could do the same?
“Come along, now. ’Tis time for supper. And I wish to speak to yer da.”
“Will ye tell him I mended the butterfly? Will he be proud of me? Can I tell him? He’s proud of ye and ye can do it.”
“I will, aye, and he will, and ye may tell him in private.” She knelt and captured his gaze. “But ye must tell no one else. ’Twill be our secret for now. Can ye do that?” He’d shown maturity beyond his years. Could she trust him?
Jamie stuck out his lower lip.
Ach, her four-year-old was back. She stood, took his hand, and started up the path that climbed the tor to the Aerie’s gate. “I’ll see if Cook made any of yer favorite sweets. Will that be reward enough for yer brave deed?”
“With honey and cream?”
“I suppose ye have done well enough to deserve them, too, aye, but only if ye dinna tell anyone save yer da.”
He nodded somberly. “Aye, that will do.”
In that moment, she knew her wee lad would grow faster than she wished, but that he would be all the man she could hope for—and more.
1
SCOTLAND, EARLY SPRING 1536
The clang of heavy broadsword blades against shields, halberds, and axes assaulted Jamie Lathan’s ears. All around him, men fought and swore and bled. But the deafening din didn’t distract him as he thrust through the raider in front of him, pulled his blade free, then raised his shield against another man charging at his side. Calder Erskin, his foster brother and best friend, cut the legs out from under the warrior Jamie fended off, grinned, and turned away to find his next opponent.
Jamie’s reputation as a fierce and dangerous fighter was well-earned. He’d learned on the training ground not to touch an opponent’s skin, else the urge to heal would overwhelm the battle rage that protected him. He fought with sword and shield, dirk and mace at close quarters, and never with bare fists if he could help it.
Calder matched him in size, strength, and skill. They made a formidable fighting pair. No one could get inside their defenses, and all who tried, died.
Now that he had a moment between opponents, and despite the damage he and Calder had done, he realized the MacKyries had been pushed back toward the pass they guarded. Something about this battle felt wrong. Dressed simply and without clan insignia, the raiders had ambushed Jamie’s patrol just outside the pass leading into the MacKyrie glen. In Jamie’s experience, raiders like these usually turned tail and ran after they lost enough men to convince them they could not win. But fighting had been going on longer than usual.
Keeping one eye on potential adversaries, Jamie searched for his foster father. There! Though Donal was older than Jamie’s father, Toran, he wielded his sword as though it weighed nothing, and he was fresh to the battle. His years of experience stood him in good stead. Few men could challenge Jamie, and none save Donal MacNabb had ever bested him.
A sudden cry rent the air just behind Jamie. He spun to see a raider’s sword pierce Calder’s belly. Jamie lunged and cut the attacker’s head from his body, but he’d inflicted terrible damage before Jamie dispatched him. Calder collapsed into a pool of his own blood, hands reflexively covering the wound.
“Ye can fix this, aye, Jamie?” Calder gasped. “God, it hurts!”
Jamie dropped to his knees by Calder’s side and let his sword fall to the ground beside him. His attention split between his instinct to protect his own life and saving his friend’s, he fought for the calm he must have to extend his hidden healing talent into the wound. He took a deep breath and placed both hands on Calder’s abdomen. The energy started to flow as a warm tingle, until he pushed Calder's bloody hands aside and touched the severed flesh. The reflected pain seared his belly, doubling him over. He gritted his teeth, fighting to ignore the agony.
Jamie’s talent did not allow him to block anything he treated from transferring to him. In other battles, he’d learned to withstand the effect, but Calder’s wound was the worst he’d tried to heal. The blood loss was bad enough, but the bowel was cut, spilling poison into Calder’s body, mixing with the blood Jamie needed to save his life.
He swore he wouldn’t quit, no matter how he suffered. He had to stop Calder’s bleeding before he tried to move him away from the fighting. They were vulnerable to attack, but Calder needed his help here and now.
Vaguely aware of Donal and others surrounding them, forming a defensive ring, Jamie focused on his friend. He was slipping away, and Jamie could not work fast enough to get ahead of the damage.
“Calder! Stay with me, damn ye. Why did ye let him get inside your guard?”
“Save me,” Calder mouthed, voiceless in the din around them.
If Jamie hadn’t been looking right at his lips, he never would have known he’d tried to say anything. Then he slumped, unconscious, before Jamie could take his face in his hands, to tell him he would save him, and make him understand.
