The messenger nodded nervously and swallowed again. Just as Campbell spun back to the fire and back to his story, the young man cleared his throat.
“What is it now?” Campbell barked, his words slurring.
“That is nae all, sir.” The scout shifted, adjusting his shirt, more than a little uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “While we were watching, we discovered that there is one person of interest residing in the castle; Caitria MacKenzie Murray.”
Campbell swore, calling her all sorts of names. He jumped up from his seat and started swearing all over again at the way he swayed on his one foot. Landing with a thud, the little whiskey that was left in his glass spilled all over his shirt. The scout flinched, while all the other men still sitting around the fire busied themselves with other things.
“She cannae be allowed to live.”
“F-from what we saw, s-sir, she was being tended by the healer every hour. It does nae appear as if she is going to survive.”
“We will make sure of that.”
Sweat beadedon Caitria's forehead, running down the sides of her temples, and dripped onto the already soaked pillowcase. She couldn't remember if a nurse had just come from giving her water and was going to fetch a cold cloth, or if she had already used a cold cloth. In all honesty, she couldn't remember much at all. The constant burn in her side wouldn't let her forget Campbell's arrow, however. It seemed as though every time she closed her eyes, she was watching his men close in on her all over again.
“Tell Seamus. Get to Seamus. Must save Seamus.”
Her thoughts repeated over and over and over until she woke up, panicked and drenched. She couldn't tell if the sweat was from her fever or her fear. Either way, it left her with a thirst that could not be quenched, no matter how much she drank.
“Ye must drink more, my lady,” the servant urged, holding a glass to her lips. “Ye must replenish what ye have lost.”
Caitria batted the glass away. She had already had so much. She never knew that she could be this thirsty and yet want nothing to do with water.
“When did ye get here?” Caitria croaked. “I thought ye just left.”
Though Caitria was confused, she could see the look of concern on the servant's face as clear as day.
“Nay, my lady. I have been here the whole time. It was Sarah who left to go get ye a fresh cloth and a clean dress.”
“A clean dress? Why do I need a clean dress?”
Pushing herself up, off the pillows, Caitria looked down to see her shift that had not been white in many years, was now stained bright red. The sight made her head spin.
“Och. I see,” she answered for herself.
“I fear we will need clean bed linens as well. Shall I go fetch them for ye?”
“Aye. That would be nice. These wretched things are wet and reek of vomit.”
“Ye must stay in bed. The healer has ordered that ye dinnae get up. Do ye understand?”
Caitria nodded her agreement, too weak and tired, to put up an argument. As it was, she didn't know how she would have the energy to get up, even if she wanted to. Despite the wet sheets, the bed was still much softer than the one she was used to at MacKenzie Castle. She had no desire to move.
Letting her eyes drift closed, Caitria was once again lost to the fever raging through her weakened, drained body. She heard murmurs about just how much blood she had lost and questions about how she had managed to survive this far. None of it made sense to her. Her mind could only focus on her desperate need to save Seamus.
Time stopped existing for her. She didn't know who was with her and who was not. She didn't recognize a single face. Nor did she often remember where she was. All she knew was that someone had gone to bring her a clean dress and fresh bed linens. She tried her best to cling to consciousness, but it was a feeble attempt. Nothing in her mind was solid. That is, nothing was solid until she heard the quiet rumbling that turned into thundering. It was a sound she had never heard before, but one she had dreamt of time and time again.
Forcing her eyes open, Caitria sought clarity. She looked around, feeling like she was finally able to see the pale gray stones covered in mortar that made up the walls of her room. The rafters over her head were a dark brown wood, making her feel safe and enclosed. The small notches on one of the four mahogany bed posts stuck out to her, like someone had accidentally scratched it. Her hands moved through the layers of blankets that had been placed over her and tucked in at her sides. One by one she peeled them off, though it took a monumental effort to do so.
Finally free, she steadied herself to look down, knowing that she would see a large stain of blood. But when she did brave a glance, she found a pristine shift that didn't fit her quite right and a large bandage wrapped tightly around her middle. She understood then why it had been so hard for her to breathe.
Swinging her feet to the edge of the bed, Caitria moved slowly as she attempted to sit up. Her head spun as she moved, but she refused to lay back down.
The sound of thunder grew louder and Caitria knew she had to get to the window. She had to see what was coming.
Her hands clenched in fists, Caitria forced her eyes open. Clutching at the bedpost closest to the window, she pulled herself up. The little water that remained in her belly threatenedto come up, but she forced it down. Shuffling her feet, Caitria inched over to the window.
Some part of her hoped against all hope that it was Seamus and his army making their way to the borders. She wanted to see him so desperately that her bones ached. It felt as though she had spent a lifetime looking out of windows, hoping to see her son, or even her husband, riding towards her, coming to rescue her. And in all the years that she had looked, that had never been the case. But now, now, Seamus knew that she was there. He had been told that she was free from Laird MacKenzie, that she had come to see him. And what's more is that he needed to protect his borders, his people from being invaded.
“It has to be him,” she whispered as she forced herself to cover the last bit of distance that separated her from the window.
When she finally made it there, her heart fell to the ground in bitter disappointment. Her body followed a moment later.
