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That’s when it struck her. The healer was dead. Killed on the orders of a man who now roamed as freely as the innocent.
“Is there no one else?”
She should have thought to ask before. Should have made arrangements for another healer to be found. But she’d been so consumed with her own problems she’d never taken the time to fully ingrain herself here. And now it may be too late.
“Where is she?”
Gillian had never heard such a sweet sound before.
“Graeme,” she yelled, frantic. “Here. Fiona is here.”
“Is she alive?”
The crowd thinned as her husband pushed through them, none too gently. He knelt on the other side of Fiona, taking her other hand and leaning down to feel her breath.
“Aye, but she does not look well, Graeme. Is there no other healer?”
He looked up, his expression both grim and angry. “Grace was a stubborn woman. We’d told her many times she needed to show another her ways, but . . .”
His silence was her answer.
Please, no.
“She must be moved. Graeme, get—”
But he had already begun to lift the rotund woman, fitting her in his arms as if she were as light as a sachet of herbs. Gillian followed them, telling the others they would send word of her condition immediately. Everyone adored Fiona, and their resigned expressions only made Gillian more worried. It was as if they knew something she did not.
Graeme carried her through the hall.
“Bring her to my chamber,” she said.
He looked back.
“The lady’s chamber,” she clarified. Her place was now by Graeme’s side, and hopefully that was where it would remain.
She opened the door for him, Morgan and Aidan rushing into the room behind them.
“What happened?” Aidan asked.
Morgan pulled down the coverlet as she answered. “We were walking to the granary when she fell.”
“How did she fall?” Graeme asked, feeling her forehead.
“Straight down,” Morgan replied. “As if she’d just fallen asleep right there as she walked.”
Graeme explored her head with his finger. “No bump,” he said, looking at Aidan.
She never wished to see such despair and hopelessness on his face again, but what could she do?
“Go to Donnan,” Graeme said to Aidan. “Perhaps he knows who his wife turned to for advice.”
“Grace? Ask for advice?”
Graeme’s eyes narrowed. “By the time we find another healer—”
“I’ll go,” Aidan said, apparently realizing he had no other choice.
When he left, Gillian began to pace. Her sister had an interest in the healing arts, but she had never given them much attention. As Graeme and Morgan watched her, Gillian walked back and forth, thinking, praying. Why did they stare at her so?
