Chapter Seventeen #2
“She did, and she’s safe within these walls,” Astrid assured from the other side of the bed and then held a clay cup to his mouth. “Now you must drink this, Soren.”
Doing as she asked, he gulped it down, and his eyes slid shut once more. Not before he managed a small smile, though, and whispered, “Our daughter is every bit as fierce as her mother.”
Even though he must have heard me tell him about her in his fevered state, somehow, I sensed there was more to it. That perhaps he had even met her in some strange way when he hovered on the brink of death between worlds.
After he fell asleep, I noticed color returning to his face and breathed another sigh of relief.
“Praise God, ’tis a miracle,” Astrid murmured.
Now that I was free of blinding fear, I realized a cross hung around her neck.
I also saw the leather string around her neck, so I knew she still wore her talisman, albeit hidden beneath her dress.
While tempted to ask her about the cross or even accuse her of forsaking our gods, when I gazed into her eyes, I did not.
Instead, I saw the tides of change upon our lands and felt only thankful to her.
She had cared for Soren, undoubtedly putting herself at great risk, and the relief in her gaze spoke to a caring nature that did not deserve judgment.
“Thank you, sister,” I said softly, reaching out to grasp and squeeze her hand. “Had you not brought him here and cared for him…” Shaking my head, I brushed away more tears. “I would have never seen him again.”
“No need to thank me.” She squeezed my hand in return. “As you know, he was well worth saving. Now let’s change his poultice, then sit, talk, eat, and catch up.”
“I would like nothing more,” I replied, shocked when she pulled down his fur blanket, revealing a sizeable bandage wrapped around his midsection. One covering a wound that made my heart stop, because of its size and location. “This should have killed him.”
“Ja.” Astrid had just begun to remove his bandage but paused. “My talisman is warming.” She looked at me. “What about yours?”
“’Tis,” I said softly, feeling the warmth of my mystical connection with Soren washing over me. “This is a good sign.” I pressed my lips together and fought another wave of emotion. “I’m certain of it.”
“As am I,” Astrid murmured, nodding. Hope flashed in her eyes after she carefully removed the bandage and washed the wound.
“He is very much a fighter. This wound…’tis a miracle in the works.
” She shook her head. “Mere hours ago, this was red, swollen, and weeping, yet now…” Pressing a hand to his forehead, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Now his fever has broken, I have a feeling this wound will heal far faster than it should. That he has been truly blessed this day.” Smiling at me, she said the sweetest words I had ever heard.
“I have no doubt he will live and regain his strength quickly, sister.”
I met her smile and helped her tend his wound. After kissing his lips one last time, Astrid and I sat in front of the warm fire, where a light fare of bread, cheese, ale, and water awaited us.
“So they have treated you well here?” I asked as she poured herself ale and me water.
“Much was lacking in your last letter, yet I sensed you were safe with this clan, and you’ve not said otherwise via the flames.
” I eyed her curiously. “The last I knew, you were here to keep the peace betwixt our countrymen long established here and the Scots, and hopefully find a favorable marital tie to a prominent chieftain.”
“And so I am.” She sipped her ale and sighed. “Or at least I was before King Hákon invaded these shores. Now ’tis impossible to know what will happen next, as I’m at the mercy of Clan Mackay, who has proven more than hospitable thus far.”
When I prompted her to continue, she filled me in on everything I had missed in a vision or in our shared dreams. Soren’s fate that stormy night when he’d tried to come ashore at King Hákon’s request, then the battle that followed.
“Laird Mackay feels he owes Soren a debt of gratitude for saving him from drowning,” she said. “And his son, Declan, feels he owes me the same for keeping him from traveling on another ship that would have traveled with his father’s and suffered the same fate.”
Thunder cracked, and flames snapped and crackled on the hearth while she hesitated as if reflecting on something. Better yet, on someone.
“There is more to it,” she went on, “but I believe that’s what influences Declan’s motives most in keeping Soren’s presence here secret.
” Taking several more sips of ale as if she needed them when speaking of this Scotsman, she paused and shook her head.
“Or so it seems. ’Tis hard to know with him sometimes. ”
“I see,” I murmured, having never witnessed my younger sister’s cheeks pinken when she spoke of a man, nor seen the fiery glint in her pale blue gaze that I saw there now.
“Declan’s motives aside, if you’re uncertain you have a future here, then should I assume you will leave with me and Soren?
” Frowning, I looked at her in warning. “For this country is no place for you anymore, sister.”
“Yet ’tis where I need to be,” she said softly, gazing into the fire. “Where my fate lies.”
Though she fingered her cross, I had a feeling her talisman warmed against her skin at this very moment.
“Are you sure?” I reached over and took her hand, not liking this at all. “Even you, with your diplomatic tongue and hope for an amicable outcome, cannot help things now. ’Twill be very dangerous for you to stay.”
“Mayhap,” she conceded, about to say more when a light rap came at the door and she whispered, “Yet ’tis where I must be, however rocky the path ahead.”
Before I could respond, she opened the door and two men with blue and green plaids wrapped over their shoulders entered. The older man appeared drawn and pale with graying sandy blond hair, and the younger was as large as Soren and just as fierce when his gaze locked on me.
Although the elder of the two introduced himself as Lachlann, chieftain of this clan, it was his son, Declan, who caught my attention during introductions.
As broad-shouldered as Soren, he was a force to be reckoned with, and trouble.
Although handsome with his auburn-tinted, dark brown hair, chiseled features, and sharp emerald-green eyes, rage filled his heart.
While not apparent in his expression, I could see that it churned deep in his soul.
“How does Soren fare?” Lachlann asked Astrid, looking Soren’s way with as much wariness and mayhap surprise as Declan. “Although we were convinced he would die this verra eve, he appears to be recovering quite well now.”
“He is, and will not die,” I made clear, going to my husband’s side, ready to pull a blade if needed to defend him despite their actions thus far speaking otherwise.
“Thanks to you taking him in whilst my sister saw to him.” I looked from Declan to Lachlann.
“And for that, you have our eternal thanks.”
The men eyed me for a moment before Lachlann responded.
“’Tis a debt paid and no more.” He looked at Astrid.
“I dinnae know how your sister managed to get past my warriors, but they will need to be gone from these shores as soon as possible. The search for him has intensified, and I willnae have my king find me harboring the enemy within these walls.”
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
Something that made me hope Soren’s recovery was swift indeed.