Chapter 23
“Me Lady, come quick! It is me maither!” Conall, the lad they’d rescued in the forest, came running into the cottage where she was treating an old lady who lay on a bed of hay, her lips dry and chapped.
She had been warning the villagers about taking care with their water, and Old Rhiannon had decided to stop drinking water altogether. Lilliana was frantically boiling a tea infused with hibiscus and ginger to feed her.
She stood up when Conall appeared. “What’s happened?”
“She… I daenae ken… I—she just fainted!” Conall was extremely agitated.
Lilliana turned to Betsy. “Stay here. Give her the tea once it’s ready.”
Betsy nodded as Lilliana snatched up her bag and ran after Conall.
“Have you been boiling your water like I told you?” she panted.
He nodded. “Aye, Maither made sure of it.”
Even as she ran, exhaustion pulled at her. It seemed that whatever she did, she could not stop the sickness from spreading.
She arrived at Conall’s cottage only to find his mother convulsing on the floor, white foam spilling from her mouth. Beth, Conall’s sister, was doing all she could to restrain her, tears running down her cheeks as she watched their mother suffer.
Lilliana fell to her knees. “It’s alright. We’ll just wait it out. Go and boil some water, then add in some salt and honey,” she told the girl.
Beth hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave her mother.
“Go!” Lilliana urged with a reassuring smile. “I have her.”
Beth stood up and ran to the hearth, where she stoked the fire. Lilliana held tight to their mother, trying to make sure she did not hurt herself. Finally, after what seemed like an age, she stopped convulsing.
Lilliana checked her mouth to make sure she had not bitten her tongue. Luckily, she had not. Her airways were clear, and she was not choking. Lilliana took a pillow and placed it beneath the mother’s head before checking her over for any other injuries. Aside from a few bruises, she seemed fine.
Lilliana looked at Beth. “Is the mixture ready?” she asked.
“Almost,” Beth called, her voice shaking.
Lilliana looked at her and then at Conall, who was swaying from side to side in the corner.
We have to fix this. What can fix this, and soon?
Lilliana forced herself to breathe.
The convulsions had been violent but brief. Foam at the mouth. Sudden collapse. No fever. No lingering delirium.
This was not the same creeping sickness as before. This was concentrated.
Her mind raced through possibilities.
“Conall,” she said firmly, looking down. “When did she last drink?”
“This morning,” he whispered. “From the well. We boiled the water, as ye said.”
Boiled water. Good.
But had something else been added?
Lilliana leaned closer to the mother’s face. There was a hint of something bitter and metallic in her breath, beneath the sourness of vomit.
Not rot. Not fever. But poison.
Her gaze snapped towards the hearth.
“Beth,” she called sharply, “do not add honey.”
The girl froze. “But ye said—”
“Salt only. And more water. Quickly.”
Beth obeyed at once.
Lilliana rolled the mother gently onto her side in case another seizure came. Her fingers pressed against the woman’s throat, counting the pulse.
Fast. Uneven.
The villagers had been ill, yes, but not like this.
This was not the stream alone.
“Conall,” she asked steadily, “did anyone come by today?”
The boy blinked. “Aye, a woman I daenae ken. She asked about the well. Said she was passing through.”
Lilliana’s stomach dropped. “What did she do?”
“She knelt beside it,” he said, confused. “Said a prayer, I think.”
A prayer. Or a handful of something.
Lilliana’s mind sharpened.
“We must flush it out of her,” she muttered. “Whatever remains.”
The convulsions had expelled some of it, but not enough.
“Beth,” she called again, “bring me a bowl. And fetch the charcoal from the hearth. The blackest pieces.”
Beth frowned at her. “Charcoal?”
“Yes. Crushed. Quickly.”
The girl obeyed without question.
Charcoal.
It was crude. Unproven in the scientific sense. But country healers had long used it to draw impurities from the body. It absorbed. It bound. It might not cure, but it might blunt the poison’s hold.
Beth returned with a small wooden bowl and several darkened chunks from the edge of the fire.
Lilliana crushed them between two stones, grinding until they became a fine black powder. She added a little of the salted water to make a thin slurry.
“Help me sit her up,” she instructed.
The three of them lifted the woman carefully. Her head lolled to the side.
Lilliana held the bowl to her lips. “You must swallow,” she urged gently. “Just a little.”
The woman coughed weakly but managed to take several mouthfuls before sagging again.
“Good,” Lilliana murmured. “Good.”
They eased her back down.
Minutes passed.
The fire crackled. Beth hovered. Conall wrung his hands. Then, slowly, the woman’s breathing began to steady.
Her pulse slowed beneath Lilliana’s fingers. Not cured, but not worsening either.
Relief flooded her so fast that she nearly swayed.
“Will she die?” Conall whispered.
“No,” Lilliana said firmly, meeting his eyes. “Not today. Not from this, laddie. No.”
She sat back on her heels, wiping her charcoal-stained fingers on her apron.
This was no accident. The sickness in the stream had been gradual. Enough to sicken many, but slowly. This was direct.
Someone had gone from house to house. Or from well to well. Testing for chinks in the armor. Holes. Ways to continue spreading the poison.
Lillian’s jaw tightened. “Conall,” she said quietly, “no one drinks from that well again. Not even boiled water. Not until the Laird has sealed it.”
Beth’s eyes widened. “But then how—”
“There is a spring upriver,” Lilliana said. “I will mark it for you. You must draw from there and only there. I will speak to the Laird tonight.”
She rose, heart pounding with clarity instead of confusion.
We need to stop her now.
As soon as Kayden spotted Lilliana walking determinedly towards him, he knew what she was going to say. He shook his head preemptively. “I have nay news. Me men are searching, but they havenae found her or the wellspring.”
She huffed. “You need to let me help,” she insisted.
He shook his head again, slower, before reaching for her arm. “Ye’re swaying on yer feet. Why daenae ye go and lie down? I’ll send yer lady’s maid with yer supper.”
She looked at him with resigned defeat. “We have to help them.”
“And ye’re running yerself ragged doing just that. I appreciate yer care, but ye also must take care of yerself, Lilliana. Please. Go and lie down.”
“No. There is far too much to do.”
“Ye argue with me as if ye think it will sway me, but it willnae. Lass, I will pick ye up and carry ye to bed right now. Daenae test me.”
She stood her ground, putting her hands on her hips in frustration. “You would not dare!”
He arched an eyebrow. Before she could form another protest, he scooped her up cleanly, one arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back. She gave a startled gasp, fingers flying to clutch at his shoulders.
“Kayden!” she hissed.
“Aye,” he replied calmly, starting towards the stairs. “And ye are light as a bundle of reeds when ye forget to eat.”
She struggled half-heartedly, entirely exhausted. “Put me down. I am perfectly capable of walking.”
“Ye were swaying like a sapling in high wind.”
Her retort died on her tongue as her head tipped against his shoulder. The solid heat of him, the steady rhythm of his steps, the faint scent of leather and smoke… it all blurred together. Her hands loosened.
By the time he reached her chamber, her eyes were half-closed.
He laid her carefully on the bed, adjusting the blankets with unexpected gentleness.
“Tomorrow ye will go with Fergus so he can help ye.”
She nodded, and he was glad of her pliancy. She looked more than a bit pale, and he did not like it. He went downstairs to the kitchen to speak to Moira.
“Take a strengthening broth to the lady and some bread, freshly baked and soft. Also, a nourishing drink. She has had a long day,” he told her.
She smiled and nodded. “Will prepare everything, Me Laird. But willnae ye be taking it up to her yerself?” Her eyes were bright with expectation.
He hesitated for a moment, but then recalled how tired Lilliana had looked.
He shook his head. “Nay. She needs her lady’s maid tonight. Let her take it up and tend to her.”
Moira nodded. “Very well, Me Laird.”
Kayden nodded and left the kitchen.
He had a meeting with the head of the guard. He was just as determined as Lilliana to find this woman and get some answers. It was well past time that they had solved this issue.
Fergus was certainly a big help, not just with the work, but his presence was also calming. The work went a lot smoother when she was not frazzled, and when they returned to the castle, she was not completely fatigued.
However, she had no desire to socialize, so she opted to have supper in her rooms again.
Kayden had been quite wise to entreat her to stay in her rooms the night before.
She had managed to eat while Betsy drew her a bath and soaked all the exhaustion from her body, before falling into bed and sleeping soundly.
She sent Betsy to the kitchens for her meal again and smiled when the maid returned, accompanied by Rua and Bramble.
“I think they did not want you to eat alone,” Betsy said, a hint of reproof in her tone.
“Or they decided I would be easier to coerce for food out of sight.” Lilliana laughed as Bramble settled in her lap and Rua at her feet.
“Or that,” Betsy agreed.
She placed the tray on the bedside table before stepping back to arrange all the things ready for Lilliana’s bath.
Lilliana picked up a piece of fruit from the fish on her plate, took out the bones, and handed it to Rua. Cutting off the fish head, she spotted a glass of cream for the tea Betsy had brought. She poured some of it on a saucer and placed it on the chair for Bramble to eat.