Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Blood, Silence,
And The King’s Demand
Blood splattered the polished stone floor, thin, bright streaks that made Elara’s stomach tighten. Adira trembled violently, her face pale, her lips parted though no sound escaped her silent cry.
Feena’s gasp tore through the hall. “My king, please—”
The king nodded to Muir to release the old woman and she hurried toward Adira as soon as Muir’s hands fell away from her.
With an arm around Adira’s slim waist, the king lifted her slim body enough so that her feet barely skimmed the stone floor as he took her to a nearby table and placed her on a bench.
“Get busy, old woman,” he ordered when Feena dropped down beside Adira.
“Water! Cloth! Quickly!” Feena shouted, her old hands shaking as she patted Adira’s shoulder gently to comfort her.
Adira lifted her head that hung far too low and turned frightened and tearful eyes on the old woman.
Feena smiled, softly, and patted her chest to let the lass know she was there for her and all was good.
Two servants rushed forward, one with a basin and another with a pitcher of water and filled the basin.
Feena didn’t waste a minute. She dipped the cloth and proceeded to cleanse the wound as gently as she could so she could determine its severity. Water streaked red as it washed down Adira’s trembling arm.
Dar lowered his head to whisper in Elara’s ear, “Stay as you are. The king will allow the old woman no help.”
Elara forced herself to remain rooted where she stood, her heart pounding, her husband’s warning confirming what she knew herself. However, that did not stop her from feeling helpless and angry over Adira’s useless suffering.
Even though Adira could not hear her words, Feena spoke to her softly, making sure she kept her arm pressed against Adira’s. “Easy, lass… easy. I’m here.”
The fright in Adira’s eyes faded some and she smiled weakly at Feena.
A heavy hand hit the end of the table, startling Feena and causing fright to return to Adira’s eyes.
“How is it the mute understands you?” the king demanded.
“Adira. Her name is Adira,” Feena said.
“Answer me?” the king demanded impatiently.
“Touch,” Feena said and quickly explained, seeing the king’s eyes turn stormy.
“With my arm pressed against hers, she feels the calm of my words and knows she has nothing to worry about, that I will help her. The vibration of the table when you pounded it and how it startled me alerted her to your anger. Without the sense of touch, vibration, whatever it is she can feel, and expression, what she can see, Adira lives completely unaware of what is going on.” She bobbed her head.
“Please, my king, I must see to her wound.”
“Hurry then and be done with it,” the king said with a dismissive wave, but remained by the table watching her work.
Feena quickly slipped her healing pouch off her belt and hurried to gather what herbs she had with her: golden rod, comfrey, and crushed lady’s mantle.
Her fingers trembled as she mixed them with a bit of honey from the crock on the table.
She pressed the salve into the wound with practiced care, knowing that with proper care the wound would heal with time.
Finally, she bound it tightly with a clean linen cloth, pressing her palm gently over the bandage. “That is all I can do for now. The wound needs time to heal.”
The king’s brow knitted tightly as a single word spilled from his lips. “Time?”
Muir stepped forward, eager to offer his knowledge. He lifted his bandaged arm. “My wound healed overnight, my king. Not in an instant. Feena did the same for me, and I woke nearly mended.”
The king’s ice-blue gaze slid to Muir. “Overnight, you say?”
“Aye, my king,” Muir said quickly, his voice nearly tripping over itself.
The king looked down at Adira, now clutched protectively in Feena’s arms. His gaze drifted between the two in cold calculation.
Then, as if reaching a conclusion, he spoke. “Adira will not leave my sight tonight. She is to be taken to my chambers where she will remain with me alone.”
Feena’s head jerked up, her face losing all color. “My king… she is frightened…”
“I will send for you, if need be,” the king said, his tone brooking no argument. “In the morn, I will summon you to remove the bandage and I will see for myself how the lass has healed.”
A tremor slipped through Feena’s hands as she gathered Adira close again, fighting to remain calm and not frighten Adira more than she already was.
Feena spoke with a soft smile as she patted Adira’s arm and pointed to the king then walked her fingers. “You will go with the king.”
Adira shook her head, understanding, and pointing to her arm.
Feena turned to the king. “She fears you will hurt her.”
Elara’s heart twisted painfully watching the exchange and could only imagine how terrorizing this had to be for Adira, not able to hear anything or speak for herself. She wished there was a way she could help.
A thought hit her then. If the ethereal healer had mended Muir so swiftly, could she do the same for Adira? She kept the thought tucked away, her secret alone.
“She serves no purpose to me harmed,” the king said, annoyed, and saw the lass cringe.
“She sees your anger on your face,” Feena warned.
“That matters not,” the king snapped. “She follows my rule like everyone else.” His fist came down on the table in front of Adira. “I will not harm you.”
Adira buried herself against Feena.
“Enough of this nonsense,” the king said and yanked Adira away from Feena. He leaned his head down to plaster his face close to hers. “I will not harm you.”
“Yet you hold her as if you would and drag her away from the one person she trusts and feels safe with,” Elara said, unable to hold her tongue any longer.
The king glared at her for a moment then turned to Dar, his gaze narrowing with a scrutiny that felt like a blade drawn slowly across skin. “You will teach your wife to mind her tongue, or she will lose it.”
Dar’s arm shot out, locking around her middle before she could take a step toward the king. “I would not let that happen, my king.”
Once again, the room turned silent, the king’s eyes flaring with anger.
Adira cringed beside him, feeling his fury.
Dar bobbed his head. “I mean no disrespect, but I will protect my wife with my life and—”
“My apologies, my king,” Elara rushed to say, the thought that Dar would give his life for her outburst too disturbing not to speak. “I am upset for Adira and spoke out of turn. Please forgive my foolishness.”
The king looked at each of them and a hint of a smile touched his lips. “You care for each other. You both will serve me well.” His grim expression returned. “Keep hold of that tongue, woman, or chance losing your husband.”
“Aye, my lord,” Elara said, when she would have preferred to call him an insufferable arse.
“You both will remain in Caerith until I see what unfolds by morning,” the king commanded. “Tavish will see you to your chamber.” He turned a hard glare on Feena. “See the healer put in a chamber not far from mine and place a guard at her door. She goes nowhere without my permission.”
“You have no fear of me leaving, my king,” Feena said, turning a gentle smile on the lass. “Adira is like a daughter to me, and I would never leave her.”
“You will leave her if I command it, old woman,” the king ordered and turned to Tavish. “See them all settled for the night.”
With that the king all but dragged Adira out of the room. She struggled against his grip to turn and look at Feena, and the old woman was relieved the king prevented her from doing so, since the lass would only grow more frightened seeing Feena shed tears.
A guard approached Feena and after returning items to her healing pouch and securing it to her belt, she turned to Elara and Dar.
“I wish you a loving and fruitful union.” She went to turn, to follow the guard, and stopped. “Trust. Trust what is in your hearts.”
Elara didn’t have time to think on her words, Tavish’s voice catching her attention.
“Two guards will see you to your chamber,” Tavish said and when Dar turned a scowl on him, he grinned. “They will not guard your door. The king is confident you will remain here until he says otherwise.”
Dar nodded and he went to reach for Elara’s hand, but she was already reaching for his and when they joined, she locked her hand around his tightly. They were one now and he intended to see they remained as one.
They were led up a stone stairway and down a long corridor lit by wall sconces, the flames casting uneven shadows over the stone walls. Somewhere distant, a door slammed. Somewhere closer, footsteps echoed like restless ghosts.
Their chamber lay at the end of the corridor where a wooden door stood open.
“Your chamber,” one guard announced.
Dar gave a brief nod and stepped inside, drawing Elara gently with him. The door shut behind them with a heavy thud.
Dar waited a moment, then opened the door to peer out and see the two guards vanishing down the hall. He closed the door and turned to see his wife glancing around the room.
The room was larger than Elara expected, stone walls softened by woven tapestries, two tall windows, heavy gold damask drapes not yet drawn against the night, graced one wall, and a large bed was draped with dark green wool blankets, soft furs, and a mountain of pillows.
A small hearth burned low, casting warm shadows across the floor, and a narrow table beneath one window held a variety of foods and drinks while tall, iron candelabras cast sufficient light around the room.
Dar went to the table and filled two goblets with wine, handing one to Elara. “Do you think Adira’s wound will heal?”
Elara recalled the ethereal woman she’d watched tend Muir’s arm, darker than night, a shimmering presence that felt neither wholly mortal nor wholly other. The memory shivered through her.