It worked.
She smiled at the terrified young man.
“I will tell you what I am going to do so that you are not afraid,” she said steadily. “What is your name?”
“Dunne, my lady.”
“You have not been at The Keld long, have you?”
He tried to shake his head a little, held still by the servant. “Nay,” he said. “My mother and father have a farm to the west. I came to Castle Keld to earn money to send to them. Lord Alastor is our liege. My father says he is a fair man. But I’ve never been in a battle before.”
“I see,” Corisande said. “Then you’re really a farmer.”
“I am, my lady.”
“It is noble of you to want to earn money for your family.”
“Will I be sent home because I was hurt?”
Corisande shook her head. “Of course not,” she said. “But I must stitch your gash. I am going to put something on it to cleanse it, and it will sting a little, but I know you are brave. Then I will quickly stitch it up so you will only have the smallest scar. You can tell your mother and father that you were very courageous in battle.”
The young man nodded briefly, unsteadily, and Corisande silently motioned to the servant to hold the young man’s head steady. As the servant clamped down on the young soldier’s head, Corisande quickly swabbed the wound in the wine and vinegar solution. The young man made a pained face but, to his credit, he didn’t cry out.
Quickly, Corisande stitched up the gash. Unfortunately, it was a jagged cut and it took thirteen fine, careful stitches. But when she was done, she swabbed the wound with the solution again and made sure she removed all of the dirt and sweat she could see. By this time, the cook had sent out more clean bandages and she left the male servant to carefully wrap the young soldier’s head.
But the young soldier smiled gratefully at her.
Standing up, she turned to the hall to see who needed her help next and was startled to see Cole standing a few feet away.
He was watching her closely.
“Cole?” she said with concern, moving towards him. “Are you injured?”
He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But Addax was hit in the head, twice, by a very big Scotsman with a club, so I brought him here. He has a bloody nose and ears.”
“Where is he?”
Cole pointed to the opposite side of the hall, near the hearth, and they could both see Addax there, propped up against the wall.
Corisande went over to him.
“Someone tried to bash your brains in, did they?” she said as she knelt down beside him. “I hope you punished him severely.”
Addax’s dark eyes glimmered with mirth. “I did not,” he said wearily. “But Cole did.”
“He did?”
Addax sat still as she inspected his face to see where the blood was coming from. “He cut his head off,” he said “I saw it rolling off into the grass along with his hand. I am certain Cole would have chopped the man to pieces had I not been bleeding all over myself. He chose to seek help for me rather than continue his revenge.”
Corisande lost some of her humor as she looked up at Cole, who gazed back at her neutrally. As if he hadn’t just partially hacked a man to death. Truth be told, she wasn’t surprised to hear that given Cole’s size and skill, but that same man spoke to her sweetly and with vulnerability… to think of him cutting off a head jarred her, just a little.
She had to remember that he was a de Velt.
He was a killer.
“He made the right choice,” Corisande said, returning her attention to Addax. “Now, let me take a look at you. May we remove your helm?”
Between her and Cole, they managed to get the dented helm off and Corisande went to work. Standing at Addax’s feet, holding on to the man’s damaged helm, Cole simply watched her.
