Chapter 16
Tension filled the room as people wondered what to do next.
Kirsten was distraught and just wanted everything to end.
This marriage hadn’t turned out at all as she had expected.
Maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t come here at all.
She didn’t know what she had done to deserve this fate, for she had always tried to live a pious life, but it seemed as though the gods had a grudge against her.
Marcas seemed so weak, so young, so vulnerable.
All she wanted was to take care of him and keep him safe, but it seemed as though she was incapable of that.
Beside her, Moira was equally as distraught.
Her face was drawn, and there were long streaks of tears on her cheeks.
She shook her head in disbelief, as though by denying this was happening, she could force reality to change, and Marcas would be able to wake as if nothing had happened at all.
What a sweet thing that would be. But Moira had no such power. None of them did.
“Poisoned? How? Could it hae been from the weapon that struck him?” Moira asked.
The healer looked thoughtful. “I cannae say for sure, although from the look of his wound, it doesnae seem that it broke through his skin.”
“Can ye tell what kind of poison it is?” Roderick asked.
The healer shook her head. “Only that it is a dangerous one. There are a few poisons that can hae this effect, and if it is one of the more dangerous ones, it’s only a matter of time before he stops breathing entirely.”
“But he can fight it, yes? Marcas, ye are strong. Ye can fight this!” Moira choked.
The healer looked pensive. “The laird is a strong man, but this requires a different type of strength, and sometimes there is no amount of strength that could fight against poison. We hae tae find out what it is, and then perhaps I can make a cure. Time is of the essence.”
“Then gae and search the castle! Find anything that could be used as a poison. There could be an intruder. This could be a plot against our laird!” Roderick yelled, and jerked his thumb towards the guards, who obeyed his command instantly.
Their footsteps thundered away, although two remained in the room for added protection.
Kirsten wondered who could have done this.
Perhaps it was done by the intruder that had snuck into the castle.
Perhaps Marcas was right to be paranoid all this time.
Filled with grief, she could not think straight, and the only thoughts that filled her mind were prayers for Marcas to be well again.
She didn’t care if the healer still needed space; Kirsten needed to be with her husband.
She flung herself to her knees and took his hand in hers, kissing it softly and resting her head against it.
It was still warm, but it lacked the instinct that usually came with it.
His fingers were limp and devoid of strength, and when she looked at him, it was as though she was looking at a shell of the man he used to be.
She hated that she was already thinking of him in the past tense and told herself to stop thinking the worst. She had to be positive.
If he was going to pull through this, he would need everyone around him to be as strong as he was.
“It will all work out for the best, lass. Marcas is a strong man. He wilnae submit tae anything easily, nae even poison.” Roderick came up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. He squeezed it gently, and she took great strength from him. Once again, she was glad that he was present.
Panic was strong in her mind, and she continued to stay by the bed, holding Marcas’s hand.
Moira turned to the window and gazed out, looking at the horizon.
Kirsten could only imagine what was going through her mind.
If there was indeed a curse on the Monroe name, then she would be the next one that death stalked.
And then who, Kirsten herself? The future was bleak when it had started to shine with hope.
This all seemed so wrong. How had it even happened?
How had poison managed to get into his system?
The healer had moved around the room, sniffing the air.
She curled her spindly fingers around the cup that had held Marcas’s tea and brought it to her nose, breathing in deeply.
She frowned a little and placed it back on the table, then seemed to follow the scent like a dog, back to the bed.
Kirsten’s head was bowed, so she was unaware of what the healer was doing.
The healer lifted up the pillow and picked up the remnants of lavender that were scattered underneath it.
She rubbed them between her fingers and sniffed them again.
“It’s here,” she said in a somber voice.
“What dae ye mean?” Roderick asked, striding towards her. Kirsten and Moira were still so consumed in their grief that they weren’t fully aware of what was happening.
“This…this is what poisoned him. Lady, dae ye know anything of this?” the healer asked, turning to Kirsten.
Kirsten looked up through bleary eyes. “It’s lavender. I made him some tea.”
“This is nae lavender. This is monkshood,” the healer said.
“Just like Ma,” Moira whispered. The words were vague and indistinct to Kirsten, and she was slow to react, but when she did, horror filled her mind.
It was the tea I gave him that caused this. It is all my fault!
She hadn’t even thought about monkshood when she had been gathering the plants, but now she recalled that the two looked very similar.
Was it possible that she had made a mistake?
She thought back and couldn’t remember there being any other plants, but her mind was riddled with guilt.
She frowned, trying to make sense of it all.
“Guards!” Roderick’s voice snapped through the room. He pointed to Kirsten. “Seize her!”
Kirsten looked up in shock.
“Uncle!” Moira yelled.
“Kirsten, this is the tea ye made, aye?”
Kirsten’s mouth hung open. There were so many things she wanted to say, but it was a simple question that demanded a simple answer.
“Aye,” she said, hanging her head. “But I didnae mean tae! I would never poison him. Never! He’s my husband!
I love him!” she cried out. The words came naturally to her.
She did love him. It had finally happened when she realized how awful it would be to lose him, but what good would love do her now?
Roderick glared at her. “I dinnae know if ye made an honest mistake or if this is some elaborate plot against my nephew, but until we find out the truth, ye cannae stay here. Take her tae the dungeons.” Kirsten almost couldn’t believe it.
She wailed and writhed and clung to Marcas’s hand as the guards pulled her away, but there was no use fighting against their strength.
Marcas’s hand slipped away from hers and fell limply against the bed.
Kirsten shook her head and continued to plead her innocence.
“I didnae dae it! I didnae dae it!” she cried out, but what she really meant was that she had not intended it.
The truth was that she had made the tea herself, and given that she was not as attuned to the wild as others, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that she had made a mistake.
How cruel fate could be. All she had wanted was to keep Marcas safe and to endear herself to him.
It had finally felt like they were making a connection and that love was blooming between them.
He was finally beginning to show her his true feelings, and now it was going to be for nothing.
Now he was going to die at her hand, and her misery would continue in the dungeon.
“Nae, Uncle, please, ye cannae dae this! It couldnae hae been her! I hae been with her a lot. She is my friend. My sister!”
Kirsten’s heart leaped to hear Moira come to her defense. It was pleasing to know that not everyone had condemned her so suddenly. But Roderick turned his back on Kirsten and spoke to Moira in a stern tone.
“We must always be vigilant. It is possible that she is some agent of an enemy. I was always quick tae dismiss Marcas’s paranoia, but perhaps I was wrong tae dae sae.
Hae we been sae blind as tae let the enemy get sae close tae him?
I’m sorry, Moira, but we cannae dae anything else until we find out the truth of what haes happened, and our first priority must be trying tae find a cure for Marcas.
I dinnae want history tae repeat itself.
It was a tragedy when we lost yer ma. I dinnae want that tae happen again. ”
Kirsten had hoped that Moira would continue to fight for her, that she would try and sway her uncle, but perhaps it was too much to ask for the younger woman.
In many ways, she was still a child, and despite her friendly nature, she had lost a lot as well.
Her life had been marked with tragedy, and it would not be easy for her to ignore what was happening.
Kirsten heard only silence as she was dragged away towards the dungeon, away from her husband, away from her chambers, away from everything she had come to call home.