Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
The next day Mhairi was with the healer, learning.
"Slower," Donnach said from beside her, his gnarled fingers guidin' hers. "Ye want tae release the oils, nae pulverize the flower intae dust. Gentle, circular motions. There—like that."
Mhairi's hands were shaking as she ground the dried chamomile in the mortar. Not from nerves, but from pure, undiluted excitement.
The scent of chamomile filled the air, sweet and slightly apple-like. Mhairi breathed it in, memorizing the smell, the texture, the way the petals broke apart under the pestle.
"How dae ye ken when it's ready?" she asked.
"When it looks like this." Donnach showed her his own mortar, where the chamomile had been reduced to a fine, fragrant powder. "See how it's still got a bit of texture? That's what ye want. Too fine and ye've destroyed the potency. Too coarse and it willnae steep properly."
Mhairi adjusted her technique, watching carefully as the chamomile began to match Donnach's example. When she was done, she looked up hopefully.
The old healer examined her work, then nodded. "Good. Very good fer yer first attempt. Now, tell me what this is used fer."
"Calmin'. Fer anxiety and sleeplessness." Mhairi had been studying the herb book Donnach had lent her late into the previous night. "It can also help with digestive troubles and inflammation."
"And the contraindications?"
"Those with allergies tae daisies or related plants should avoid it. And it can interact with blood-thinnin' remedies."
"Excellent." Donnach's weathered face creased into a smile. "Ye've been studyin'."
"I couldnae stop." Mhairi set down her mortar, flexing her fingers. "Last night I meant tae read just one chapter, but then I wanted to ken more about feverfew, and that led tae readin' about migraines, which led tae circulatory herbs, and before I kenned it, it was nearly dawn."
Donnach laughed. "Aye, that's how it happens. The healin' arts have a way of consumin' ye once ye start. Every answer leads tae ten more questions."
"I dinnae mind." Mhairi looked around the healing chambers—at the jars and bottles, the drying herbs hanging from the rafters, the careful organization that spoke of decades of knowledge. "This feels... right. Like I'm finally daein' somethin' that matters."
"It daes matter," Donnach said seriously. "Never doubt that. Every person ye help, every sufferin' ye ease, that's sacred work, lass. Nae everyone has the temperament fer it, but ye..." He studied her thoughtfully. "Ye have the gift. I can see it already."
Warmth bloomed in Mhairi's chest. "Thank ye."
"Dinnae thank me yet. We've barely scratched the surface." He moved to a cabinet and pulled out several more jars. "Now, let's move on tae comfrey. Tell me what ye ken about it."
The day passed in a blur of herbs and tinctures and careful instruction.
Donnach taught her how to prepare poultices, how to judge the potency of dried herbs versus fresh, how to mix remedies in precise proportions. When a young warrior arrived with a gashed arm from training, Donnach let Mhairi watch as he cleaned and stitched the wound.
"See how I'm anglin' the needle?" he murmured as he worked. "Always away from major blood vessels. And the stitches need tae be close enough tae hold, but nae so tight they restrict blood flow."
Mhairi leaned in, fascinated despite the blood. The warrior, a lad perhaps eighteen, was trying very hard to look brave, though his face had gone pale.
"Ye're daein' well," Mhairi told him gently. "It'll be over soon."
"Daes it... daes it hurt much?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"I've had worse recently," Mhairi said before she could think. Then, realizing what she'd revealed, she quickly added, "but Donnach is very skilled. The stitches will hold clean and ye'll barely feel them in a few days."
The warrior managed a weak smile. "If ye say so, me lady."
By the time the sun was setting, Mhairi's feet ached and her back was stiff from bending over worktables, but she felt more alive than she had in... she could not even remember how long.
"That's enough fer today," Donnach said, watching her smother a yawn. "Ye've done well, lass. Very well. Come back tomorrow at the same time."
"I will." Mhairi gathered her borrowed apron and moved toward the door. "Thank ye again, Donnach. Fer all of this."
"Thank our laird," the healer said with a knowing look. "He's the one who made it possible."
Aye. He was.
Mhairi made her way through the castle, nodding to servants who were beginning to recognize her. The corridors were busier now as people prepared for the evening meal, voices and laughter echoing off the stone walls.
She was so lost in thought—reviewing everything she'd learned, planning what to study that night—that she nearly walked straight into Alpin as he rounded a corner.
"Oh!" She stumbled back. "I'm sorry, I wasnae watchin' where I was goin’."
"Clearly." But he was smiling, and his hands came up to steady her shoulders. "How was yer first day with Donnach?"
"It was..." Mhairi searched for words adequate to describe it.
"It was perfect. He taught me about herbs and preparations, and I even got tae watch him stitch a wound and it was fascinatin' and terrible and wonderful all at once, and—" She stopped, suddenly aware she was practically bouncing with excitement. "Sorry. I'm ramblin'."
"Dinnae apologize." Alpin's smile widened. "It's good tae see ye this animated. Ye're practically glowin'."
"I'm covered in chamomile dust and probably smell like a apothecary."
"Ye smell like someone who spent the day daein' work that matters tae them." His expression softened. "That's a good smell."
Mhairi felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Well, I... thank ye. Fer makin' this possible. Fer talkin' tae Donnach, fer givin' me this chance.”
They stood there for a moment, the busy corridor flowing around them like water around stones. Alpin's hands were still on her shoulders, and although it should have been inappropriate, they were warm and solid and somehow exactly where they should be.
"I should let ye go," he said finally, though he did not move. "Ye must be exhausted."
"I am. But it's a good kind of tired." Mhairi stepped back reluctantly, and his hands fell away. "I'll see ye at supper? Save me a seat??"
"Aye, of course."
As she walked away, Mhairi could feel his eyes on her back. And despite her exhaustion, despite everything, she found herself smiling.
Alpin was reviewing patrol schedules when the knock came at his office door.
"Enter."
The door opened to reveal Duncan, one of his most experienced scouts—a wiry man in his forties with sharp eyes and the kind of weathered face that came from spending more time in forests than castles.
"Me laird. Ye asked tae be informed immediately if there was any unusual activity at the borders."
Alpin's hand stilled on the parchment. "What did ye find?"
"English soldiers. About twenty of them, camped three miles south of our territory line." Duncan stepped further into the room, pulling a rolled map from his pack. "Here. I marked the location."
Alpin spread the map on his desk, studying the mark. Close. Too close.
"Banners?" he asked.
"Couldnae get near enough tae identify them without risking detection. But they're organized, well-supplied. This isnae a random patrol."
"Ashcombe," Callum said from where he'd been standing by the window. "Has tae be."
Alpin's jaw tightened. He'd known this was coming, had been preparing for it since the moment he'd taken Mhairi from that forest. But knowing and facing the reality were two different things.
"How long have they been there?" he asked Duncan.
"At least two days, based on the state of their camp. They're nae makin’ any move tae advance, but they're nae leaving either. Just... waitin’."
"Fer what?" Duncan moved closer to the desk. "Orders? Reinforcements?"
"Or tryin’ tae decide their next move," Alpin said grimly. "Testin’ our response. Seein’ if we're aware of their presence."
"What dae we dae?" Duncan asked.
Alpin considered. Twenty soldiers wasn't enough for a full assault on the castle, but it was more than enough to cause significant damage if they decided to raid outlying farms or villages.
And if Ashcombe was willing to come this far, to position troops this close to MacDougal lands. .. the man wasn't giving up.
"Double the patrols along the southern border," Alpin said. "I want eyes on that camp at all times. Any movement, any change in their numbers, I want tae ken immediately."
"Aye, me laird."
"And Duncan? Good work. Stay alert."
The scout nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
Alpin sank back into his chair, running a hand over his face.
"Ye have tae tell her," Callum said quietly.
"I ken."
"She's going tae panic."
"I ken that too." Alpin looked up at his friend. "But she deserves tae ken. I willnae keep this from her."
"Just... be gentle about it. She's only just startin’ tae feel safe here."
Alpin nodded, already dreading the conversation. He'd seen the way Mhairi had begun to relax over the past few days, the way her smiles came easier, the way she'd thrown herself into learning with Donnach.
She was healing.
And now he had to tell her that the man who'd bought her was camped on his doorstep.
"I'll find her after supper," he said.
But as the afternoon wore on and he dealt with the inevitable logistics of increased border security, Alpin found himself growing more restless. By the time the sun began setting, he couldn't sit still any longer.
He had to tell her. Immediately. Before the news spread through the castle and she heard it from someone else.
He found her in the gardens.
The sight made him pause at the entrance. She was sitting on a stone bench near the wildflowers, her hands working at something in her lap. As he drew closer, he realized she was weaving flowers into a crown, daisies and clover braided together with surprising skill.
She looked peaceful. Content. And he was about to shatter that.