Chapter Five #2
Castles, Rose had decided, were noisy, drafty places and they were nowhere near as romantic as the movies painted them.
As she lay in her ridiculously big bed, weighed down by the heavy brocade covers, she desperately wanted to sleep.
But sleep seemed determined to elude her.
It was late. The distant sounds of the feast in the great hall had dissipated some time ago, indicating that everyone had gone to bed.
Yet that didn’t mean the castle had fallen quiet.
There was the tramp of feet from the guards that walked the battlements outside. There was the barking of dogs from the kennels when some noise disturbed them. There was the stamp and whinny of horses in the stables.
And within the castle itself everything creaked. The floorboards. The doorframes. Her damned bed, every time she so much as breathed.
It was most annoying. Although, she reflected, staring up at the ceiling above her bed and counting the cracks in the plaster for the umpteenth time, the castle noises were probably not the real reason she couldn’t sleep.
Being in a strange bed and a strange time would probably account for that.
Oh, what she wouldn’t give for her own bed and her own little house right now! It wasn’t much, but it was hers and was comforting in its familiarity. And what she needed most right now was definitely a bit of familiarity.
Instead, the strange noises, the huge bed, the opulent room only served to remind her how far from home she really was.
Had Elise noticed she was missing yet, she wondered.
Unlikely. Rose had disappeared many times before, called away abruptly by some emergency or other.
No, Elise was probably not be missing her at all.
In fact, it was unlikely that anybody was missing her.
Certainly not Dennis. Her ex was no doubt off enjoying his single life.
She was feeling sorry for herself, but she allowed herself to wallow in it for a moment. After everything she’d been through today, she’d bloody well earned a few moments of self-pity!
I just came to thank ye.
Cailean MacNeil’s words echoed in her head.
He’d looked so earnest, almost unsure of himself, as he’d stood at her door earlier.
She’d been surprised in the extreme when she’d found him standing there.
Surprised by his presence, yes, but also surprised by the way her stomach had fluttered at the sight of him.
Why had that happened? Ridiculous.
Ugh. She thumped the bed with her fists. These thoughts were getting her nowhere. If she had her phone with her, she’d play the meditation recordings she used when she couldn’t sleep, but in her rush to do what Lir suggested, she’d even left that behind.
Finally, her eyes drifted closed, only to be startled awake again what seemed like only a moment later by a furious pounding noise. She bolted upright and looked around wildly.
“What the—?”
It took her muzzy thoughts a moment to figure out that the pounding was somebody knocking on her door. She brushed her hair back from her face and blinked bleary eyes. Dawn light streamed through the windows, showing she’d been asleep for much longer than she thought. All night, in fact.
“Lady Rose?” came Mable’s voice. “Come quickly! Ye are needed!”
The alarm in the girl’s tone sent an equal spike of alarm through Rose’s body. She threw back the covers and threw open the door.
Mable stood outside, wringing her hands. “My apologies, my lady,” she said, forgetting that Rose had asked her to drop the formality. “But the laird sent me to fetch ye. I’m to bring ye to the infirmary immediately.”
“What’s happened?” Rose asked, her stomach dropping like a stone. “Has someone else fallen ill?”
“I dinna know. I was only told to fetch ye.”
“Right. Give me a minute. I’ll get dressed.”
She cursed the fiddly nature of fifteenth-century clothing as she struggled into a dress, Mable doing her best to help her. When it was done, she grabbed her shoes, ran a quick hand through her unruly hair, and dashed out of the door behind Mable.
Even though it was barely dawn, the castle corridors were busy as they hurried through the keep then out to the infirmary.
The close-growing trees meant it was still dark around the long building and candlelight glowed from the windows. Maggie was waiting by the door.
“What is it?” Rose called as she came in sight. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Drew,” Maggie replied. “Come quickly!”
Rose followed as Maggie pushed the door open, and as she did so, Rose made out the sounds of a scuffle and a strange, high-pitched wailing from within.
Stepping inside, it took a moment for her to figure out what she was looking at.
Drew was writhing and twisting on the bed while Cailean did his best to hold him down.
It was Drew who was making the strange, high-pitched wailing noise.
Drew’s eyes had rolled back in his head, showing just the whites, and foam crusted at the corners of his mouth. Sister Beatrice hovered nearby looking worried and there was a red welt on her temple, perhaps where she’d been struck by Drew in his thrashing.
Rose rushed over to Drew’s side. “Hold him down!” she cried. “Don’t let him injure himself.”
“What do ye think I’m trying to do?” Cailean growled. “Dance with the man?”
Rose placed her hand on Drew’s forehead. His fever was back, worse than before, and as she sent her senses questing down into his body, she felt a roiling knot of infection within him, spreading its tendrils up into his brain, causing this seizure.
His sickness had not only returned, it had spread.
Damn it! What could she do? If this continued, the infection would burn through his brain and Drew would be lost. She bit her lip, thinking furiously.
There was only one thing she could try. She called on her power and wove a powerful spell, one designed, not for healing, but for stasis.
It was a last resort, designed to keep a patient alive while a better, more permanent remedy could be found.
Its equivalent in modern medicine was putting someone into an induced coma and it was a spell Rose used only reluctantly.
Once placed, there was no guarantee that the patient would wake up.
She wove the spell and wrapped it around Drew’s brain and organs, allowing it to sink deep into his tissues. Slowly, his seizure subsided and he became still, flopping back onto the bed.
He still breathed. His heart still pumped and his blood still flowed, but everything else, including the spread of the sickness, had been incapacitated. He would not get any worse, but neither would he get any better. It was a state of suspended animation and was a temporary measure at best.
Slowly Rose withdrew her power and slumped into a chair. “You can let go now,” she told Cailean. “He’s asleep. He won’t wake.”
Cailean glanced at her and then slowly released his grip on Drew.
Rose turned to Beatrice and Maggie. “When did this start?”
“About ten minutes ago,” Beatrice answered.
She had gone pale, making the red welt on her forehead stand out all the more.
“He was fine last night. Sitting up, talking and joking. We thought he was on the mend, but then this morning, when the laird came to check on him and I shook him awake, he began thrashing around and moaning.” Her eyes found Rose’s.
“Is it my fault? Should I not have woken him?”
Rose shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Beatrice. It’s the sickness, same as before. It’s back, only worse. I don’t understand it. How did it take hold again so quickly? And why wasn’t he able to fight it off?” These last questions were muttered to herself.
She looked over at the two healers. “I need to see your notes,” she said. “Everything you have on the sickness.”
“Notes? Ye mean writing?” said Maggie. She tapped her head. “I dinna hold with such things. Everything I need is in here.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes at her sister. “I kept notes,” she said in an exasperated voice. “One of the first things we were taught in the convent was scribing. I’ll get them for ye.”
She crossed to a cupboard and took out a thick wad of parchment tied with string which she handed over. “Although I dinna know if ye’ll find aught in here that will do any good.”
“Thanks,” Rose said, taking the bundle. “There might be something. I’m going to go and get some air while I study these but I’ll be right outside. Call me if there’s any change in Drew’s condition.” There shouldn’t be with the spell she’d placed on him but Rose didn’t want to take any chances.
Beatrice nodded. “We will.”
“I’ll escort ye out,” said Cailean. He held the door open for her and they both stepped out into the cool dawn air.
The sun was just rising above the sea, making the waves shimmer like beaten gold and promising a fine day ahead. Even so, the air held a bite that was strong enough to make her shiver.
“Here.”
Cailean threw his plaid around her shoulders and she took it gratefully. “Thanks.” It smelled like rain on the ocean and the wind across heather. It was a scent she was coming to associate with him.
He didn’t reply. He was staring out at the sea, his eyes far away. “Is there aught that can be done?” he asked at last.
She didn’t need to ask what he was referring to. She opened her mouth to give the usual reassurances, the platitudes that had become so second nature they fell from her tongue before she even thought about them. But she stopped herself. Cailean deserved better than that.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. She stepped up to his side and laid a hand on his arm. He startled at her touch and turned to look at her. “But I promise you this. I will do everything in my power to find out what this sickness is and to stop it. You have my word on that.”
Something flashed in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite place. Then, to her surprise, he placed his hand over hers. “That’s all anyone can ask of ye, lass.”