She’d asked Neve to search her mother’s journals for anything else that might help. She had found nothing they hadn’t already tried. Which made no sense. Surely Aftyn’s mother had treated other festered wounds. What had she done differently, and why hadn’t she written it down? Was the cure something so obvious it was common knowledge and not worth recording? Something she’d taught her that Aftyn forgot? Or something in the many pages filled with unreadable notations and symbols. She racked her brain as she paced, but no helpful memory surfaced.
Ach, Mama, why did ye leave me so soon? I miss ye. And I dinna ken all I need to ken to do what ye did for our clan. For this man.
Niall’s groan brought her back to him. He was no cooler, and he’d begun tossing his head like an angry horse. Surely he’d hurt himself if she didn’t get him to stop. She placed her hands on either side of his face, holding him still, and spoke to him in a soothing tone. “Wheesht ye, laddie. Wheesht. Ye must rest to be well.” His agitation eased with her touch, so she released him and dribbled sleeping draught between his lips. Once he swallowed enough, she continued speaking softly, trying to soothe him. “I’m doing all I can for ye. Ye must help me. Ye can do that, aye? Sleep now.” She let him go when he stopped fighting her and settled on a sigh. He seemed to slide deeper into his fevered dreams.
She straightened and turned to the man watching her over crossed arms, muscles bulging. “Fearchar, can ye trust me with him long enough to find Neve and help her? I need that water now. He’s burning up.”
He looked as though he would refuse, but they both knew there were no blades in the chamber save the ones he carried. He gave a curt nod and left the room.
Aftyn stroked the damp hair off of Niall’s forehead, fighting the urge to cry. Or scream. She hated feeling helpless, and being treated as untrustworthy by these strangers made her feel worse.
The laird’s doubts about her were growing, and losing a visitor from another clan would convince him that his illegitimate daughter was not worth keeping in any capacity, much less as the clan’s healer. She remained with the clan only because she’d been able to save his heir’s life by continuing a treatment begun by her mother before she died. Since then, she’d lived in fear of Braden having another spell, gasping for air, but so far, nothing had happened.
Now, for this man, nothing Aftyn tried seemed to help. Maybe her father was right. She was worthless as a healer.
She sank onto the hearthside stool and let her tears run down her cheeks. Niall would not see them. And even if he did, likely he would not live to speak of them to anyone else.
* * *
They reachedthe Keith keep long after dark. Jamie was glad of Rabbie’s company, and of Bhaltair’s, another Lathan guard Jamie’s father had insisted accompany them. Rabbie’s shout to the gatekeeper got them into the bailey. He led them to the stables where a lad took charge of the horses, then into the keep.
The great hall was empty of all save a few servants cleaning tables. Rabbie led them to a set of stairs. “I ken where Niall rests,” he said as he headed up.
Jamie followed, Bhaltair on his heels.
“Where is everybody?” Bhaltair looked around with a frown. “I’ve never seen a keep so quiet.”
Jamie’s chest clenched at that. Was Niall dead? The lack of activity in the hall might mean they kept a respectful peace until his kin could claim his body. Or they’d buried him today and now mourned, since his clan was not here to do it for him.
Rabbie led them down a hallway, dark save for one sputtering torch in the middle, pushed open a nearby door and stepped inside. Jamie’s breath left him when he saw Niall, his head moving fretfully on his pillow. He lived! Then Jamie took a breath and wished he hadn’t. A frisson of unease shivered down his spine as the stench of sickness and rot invaded his nose, sweet and grating over the earthy scent of the peat fire burning low in the hearth. A young lass sat dozing near it.
“Neve!” Rabbie hissed. “Wake up.”
The lass blinked and sat up. “Rabbie! Ye’re here! Ach, Aftyn will be so relieved.”
“Where is she?”
“Asleep, I hope. Poor lass. She’s barely left this chamber the entire time since ye left. I chased her out a few hours ago to eat and rest. Fearchar, too.”
“The hall was all but empty. Where is everyone? And how is Niall?”
“Ye do ken how late it is? They’re all in their beds.” She stood. “Niall, well…” she said, paused, and turned her gaze to him. Then she looked back at Rabbie and continued, “I’m glad ye have arrived. He’s worse.” Her gaze moved to Jamie and Bhaltair. “Which of ye is the healer? We expected a lass.”
“I am,” Jamie said, his gaze shifting from her to Niall and back again. “I am the healer's son and ken her methods.”
“Why didna she come herself?”
“She cares for a woman about to deliver her twelfth babe.” Jamie moved toward Niall, the urge to begin healing him coming on strongly. Even from a distance, he could feel Niall’s distress.
“I hope ye are as skilled as she,” Neve said. “Yer friend needs more care than we could give him.”
He wished he could explain to Calder why he had to go back on his vow. He would have understood better than anyone why Jamie would have to use his talent. Neve’s voice distracted him and he turned back to her. Jamie frowned. “I will see to him. Before I do, we’ve ridden long and hard. Can anyone prepare some food and drink for us?”
“Aye. Now ye are here, I’ll fetch what ye need.”
Jamie gestured. “Rabbie and Bhaltair can help ye, then ye’ll need to see to a place for us to rest.”
“I have a chamber,” Rabbie reminded Neve. “Dinna fash. We’ll use it.”
