CHAPTER TEN
Chapter Ten
Kieron should never have promised Fia that he would stay in this corridor, this tiny space crowded by a large warrior sick with worry. Kieron tried not to pace. Hell, he tried not to breathe. The last thing he wanted was to draw the attention of Symon.
Ever since Fia had disappeared into Elena’s chamber, the man had been stalking back and forth in front of the door. It seemed like days had passed, but Kieron knew it was more likely only a few hours. The murmuring of women’s calm voices could be heard, like the cooing of doves in the cote on a summer’s evening, but every now and again a cry of pain would punctuate the murmur and Symon would whirl toward the door from wherever his pacing had carried him, and stand as he did now, one palm against the door, the other fisted by his side. He rested his forehead next to his palm and Kieron could hear whispering from the man, like prayers, weaving through the women’s murmurs.
A pale-haired lass of seven or eight peeked around the corner of the landing, near Kieron. Her eyes grew big as a loud guttural moan came from Elena’s chamber, and Symon growled, “God’s bones, make it end!”
“Is she dying?” the lass whispered to Kieron, though she did not take her eyes off Symon at the far end of the hallway. Tears trembled on her pale lashes, but she blinked rapidly as if to keep them from falling.
“Nay, lass,” Kieron said, the need to comfort someone finally finding an outlet. He went down on one knee in front of her so he would seem less imposing, less scary. He took one of her tiny hands in his to draw her attention away from her chief. “My grandmum says some bairns take a long time to come into the world, and others are quick. This one is in no hurry.” He smiled at the girl and she nodded, her eyes fixed on his now, as if he was the only safe place to look.
“I was sent to see if the MacLachlan would like a meal brought up,” she whispered with a childish lisp.
Kieron glanced back over his shoulder and found the man in question scowling at the two of them. So much for not drawing his attention.
“I think ale would be good,” he said to the lass. “I do not think he is of a mood to eat just now. Would you bring enough for me, too?” She nodded once, then she blanched as her gaze raised, fixing on something…or someone… behind Kieron. “Go quickly now. Your chief is thirsty.”
She spun without another word or look and disappeared down the stairs as if the Devil were on her heels.
“’Twould seem you have a soft heart for wee lasses with pale hair.”
Kieron rose slowly, not wishing to startle the agitated man who stood behind him. He turned.
“I do not like seeing anyone afraid,” Kieron said, keeping his voice pitched low and calm, “wee lasses or braw men.”
The man glared at him for long moments. Another groan sounded down the hall from Elena and Symon closed his eyes as if he shared the pain with his wife.
“Fia will do everything she can for your lady.”
Symon’s eyes popped open. “I ken that, but Fia does not have Elena’s healing gift.”
Kieron bobbed his head. “But your daughter Mairi does, aye? And Fia can help her if Mairi must use it?”
“Elena will not let Mairi use it. She is afraid for her. She is afraid for Fia, too. Elena almost died trying to save her own mother in childbirth. Fia lost her mother in childbirth, too, in spite of my Elena’s gift.” He stabbed his fingers through his hair, pulling it harshly back from his face. “Elena is too stubborn for her own good in this.”
“I think you underestimate Fia,” Kieron said. “She will do whatever needs doing to help Elena.”
“She will not gainsay Elena, though,” Symon said as he paced back to the door.
Irritation crawled over Kieron, so he followed Symon down the corridor. “Fia will do whatever is necessary, even if that means marshaling Mairi’s gift, or going against Elena’s wishes.”
“You do not ken that wee lassie as well as you think you do, even if she does honor you with her kiss.”
“Aye, she honors me, but I still say you do not ken her true strength of will. That one will do whatever is necessary to deliver your bairns and keep your wife well.”
“I think I ken the lass better after fourteen years than you do after a single sennight.”
Kieron shook his head. “You ken the lass she was—small, shy, yet wise beyond her years.”
Symon’s attention focused on Kieron for the first time that day.
“I ken the woman she has become,” Kieron finished.
“And what sort of woman is that?” Symon’s voice held a lethal edge, as if he sensed just how much Kieron knew Fia, the woman, but Kieron did not hesitate.
“I have seen her overcome her doubts. I have seen her stand up to Annis’s treachery.”
Symon went completely still. “Treachery?” he asked. “What has that woman done?”
Kieron told the chief the whole story, glad to distract Symon, if only for a little while.
“And you brought Annis back with you?”
“Aye. Fia thought it best if Lady Elena meted out the punishment. Even in her anger, Fia saw some hope that Annis might learn to be a better person with Elena’s guidance rather than Tavish’s ire.”
“Fetch her here.”
“Fia thought Lady Elena—”
Symon cut him off with a glare and Kieron spun to fetch the wench, determined to return before Fia could find him missing, for he did not want her to think he did not keep his word. He quickly located Annis in the great hall, filling her belly with hot porridge, and flirting with a young warrior.
“You chief requires your presence,” he said as he pulled her up from her bench and almost dragged her back up to the corridor to face Symon. He only wished Fia could see this. He shoved Annis ahead of him to face her chief.
Symon’s eyes were narrowed, his arms crossed over his chest. Anger radiated off of him, making Kieron very glad he was not the focus of the man’s wrath.
“What do you have to say for your unworthy behavior?” Symon asked.
Kieron could see Annis’s back stiffen.
“Fia told you?” She mimicked the chief’s posture, crossing her arms over her chest and lifting her chin. ’Twas not the reaction Kieron had expected from her. “She did not tell you everything, I wager.” She glared over her shoulder at Kieron and he could tell by the satisfied glint in her eyes that something was wrong. “Did she tell you,” she said as she slowly returned her attention to Symon, “that she lay like a wanton with that one?” She stabbed a thumb in his direction as Kieron’s breath stopped.
Hours later, Fia knelt on one side of the bed, ready to help Elena, while Mairi knelt on the other side, holding her mum’s hand in hers, pouring all the Lamont healing gift into her. The labor had taken a toll on all of them, but no one, least of all Elena, had given up.
The midwife did not look up from her position between Elena’s knees, but said, “We are almost there, my lady. I think one more contraction will do the trick. Prepare yourself.”
Elena responded with a loud groan as she pushed with all the strength left in her. Fia pushed upon her stomach to help, and at last the first bairn was pulled from his exhausted mother. The mid-wife quickly handed the bairn to one of her apprentices, and within minutes the second one slid free of her mother, and was handed to the second helper. Neither bairn cried, nor moved.
“Mum?” Mairi said, her voice tight but steady. “They are born.”
“Just a little more, Elena. We are almost done,” Fia said quietly to the glassy-eyed woman, with as much encouragement as she could manage. “One more push.” Elena managed a weak effort and collapsed but it was enough to deliver the afterbirth.
Fia looked from Elena to where the bairns still lay silent and unmoving. “Mairi, you stay with your mum. I must see to the bairns.” Just as she said that there was a weak cry from one of the babes, and an answering murmuring from the apprentice who was cleaning him.
“What is it?” asked Mairi.
“A wee laddie,” the apprentice said, bringing the bairn to cuddle next to his mum.
“And the other,” Elena asked, her voice hoarse and weighed down with exhaustion.
“A girl,” the second apprentice said, but did not look up from where she was not-so-gently rubbing the child’s blue-tinged skin.
“She will be fine, my lady.” The midwife glanced over her shoulder to her apprentice but neither woman looked hopeful.
Fia moved to the apprentice with the baby girl. “Elena needs a brew of raspberry, thistle, and mother’s heart, to slow her bleeding,” she said to the lass who was not much older than Mairi. “Will you go to the kitchen and see it made? And tell Symon he may come in soon, that Elena is well and we are just cleaning up. Do not speak of the bairns yet.”
The girl bobbed her head, handed the cloth she had been chafing the baby with, and left. Fia quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure the midwife was attending Elena. Mairi kept watch over her new brother, one hand on him, and one in Elena’s. The tiny girl struggled to breathe, and despite the apprentice’s efforts, she was still faintly blue and deathly still. Fia knew there was no time to waste if she was going to save this bairn. She pulled out the Winter Stone and held it over the baby. Under her breath Fia said those remedies she knew of to help the bairn, but the stone stayed stubbornly white. She searched her mind, but still found no response from the stone. The child gasped, as if she could not draw in breath, as if something was caught in her throat or her lungs. At this thought, the stone went pink, with that ribbon of bright green once more weaving through it.
Acting on instinct, Fia dropped the stone on the table and lifted the tiny body into her hands, laid the babe’s chest in one hand and gently, but firmly patted her back, the infant version of a hard back pounding. Once. Twice. Thrice and the girl coughed. Another several pats and she coughed again, this time more strongly. More pats and finally she cried, weakly. She began to wave her arms about and pulled her legs up. Tears of joy ran down Fia’s cheeks, and she heard Mairi tell Elena both bairns lived.
Fia kept patting the baby’s back, cooing at the bairn as the wee lass’s cries grew stronger and her color grew pinker. Carefully, Fia swaddled her, making sure she continued to breathe deeply, and settled her next to an exhausted, but beaming, Elena.