Chapter 15
Skye’s bathwater sat cooling in the tub. Presumably, a maid would be back to empty it. She didn’t envy the poor woman the job of emptying the tub, bucket by bucket.
Wet footsteps tracked her progress from her neat little washroom back into the main living area of her room. The drying sheets were warm, fluffy, and large enough to wrap easily around her.
The bath had done her a world of good. She felt luxurious, her skin warm, soft, and, more importantly, clean.
She sniffed her skin, breathing in lavender and rose petals, both of which had been scattered in the water.
Her hair hung damply down her back, scrubbed free of the grime and sweat it had accumulated.
If this is a guest room, she thought, shrugging off the drying sheet and wrapping a robe around herself, then what do the Laird and Lady’s chambers look like?
She paused, hoping for a tendril of memory to appear and enlighten her, but nothing came.
Oh, well. Worth a try.
The room was sumptuous. A velvet-covered bed sat in one corner, wide and warm and inviting. There was a real chance of her getting lost in those blankets during the night.
Furniture was scattered tastefully here and there, providing an obvious sitting area and even a dining area with a well-polished table. A large fire crackled in the hearth, inviting her to come and sit beside it and soak in the heat. Her skin prickled.
She was just wondering if she should try some of the wine left out in a jug on the table—alongside a platter of fruit, cheese, and bread—when a knock sounded at the door, making her jump.
Pausing to grip the drooping neckline of her robe, she stepped tentatively toward the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Lady Bryden. The healer. Ye were meant to come to me.”
Skye winced. “Ah, of course. Me maither told me to visit ye, but I got distracted.”
She unlocked the door and swung it open.
A young woman of about twenty-five or so stood there.
She had pale skin and pale hair, with a high forehead and sandy eyebrows.
A spray of freckles broke out over her nose, and patches of pink showed where her delicate skin had been sunburned.
The only real splash of color came from her eyes, large and bright blue.
She wore a rough, much-darned olive-colored dress, the sort of gown healers wore.
All in all, she gave off the same competent, no-nonsense energy that most healers did, a tired look in her eyes hinting that she’d seen everything, done everything at least twice, and she was sick of it all.
A battered leather belt sat low on her hips, heavy with pouches and hooks. Skye spotted a particularly shaped hook.
Abruptly, a memory swept over her. She remembered this woman telling her what the hook was for.
Matching hooks were sewn into the underside of the hem, so when a healer was trudging through mud, water, or thick undergrowth, she could lift up her long skirts and clip the two hooks together, fastening them securely to keep her skirts flapping around her knees, her legs free to move.
Her gaze flew back up to the healer’s face.
The healer was staring at her intently, her pale eyebrows drawn together. A hopeful look sparked in her eyes.
“We kent each other before we left,” she said abruptly. “We were friends, or so I liked to think. I ken yer memories havenae returned, but—”
“Leah,” Skye whispered. “Ye are Leah.”
Leah’s cornflower-blue eyes widened, and then delight swept over her face. “Ye remember me? Ye remember me!”
“I… I think I do,” Skye laughed. “But me memory is spotty, it’s—” She broke off as Leah lunged forward and wrapped her arms tight around Skye.
“I’m so glad,” Leah breathed. “I’ve been so worried about ye. We all have. But ye are here now, ye are safe, and that’s all that matters.” She pulled back, holding Skye at arm’s length, and gave her a brisk once-over. “How do ye feel? Woozy? Confused? Overwhelmed?”
“All of those things.” Skye chuckled, shaking her head. “Ye are squeezing me to death.”
Leah winced, dropping her arms. “Sorry, lass. I’ve been waiting for ye in the healer’s chambers.”
“I’m nae sure I could have found them even if I had remembered to visit ye,” Skye admitted. “Me head has been all over the place. I daenae understand any of this. Here, would ye like to come in?”
Leah nodded, and Skye stepped back, gesturing for her to enter.
Leah glanced around her as she stepped inside, her ragged hem dragging on the floor. There were several inches of dampness at the bottom of her skirt.
Skye pointed at it. “Been outside?”
Leah glanced down. “Hm? Oh, aye, I have. I brought some herbs I thought might help ye. Mind if I make a tea?”
“Nae at all.”
Leah smiled, patting one of the leather pouches on her belt. She strode over to the water jug, clearly familiar with the room. She poured some of it into a small iron skillet that clanked at her hip, then set it over the fire.
While the water simmered, she reached into one of the pouches and took out a handful of crushed, dried leaves. When scattered into the skillet, they let off a crisp, savory scent, one that Skye could not quite place.
“Laird Bryden went mad after ye left,” Leah recounted.
“I still remember the night he realized ye were gone. The entire keep was turned upside down, every inch searched. Even the old passages—every keep is full of them—were searched. He insisted on searching the councilmen’s rooms, too.
Some of them complained, but the chief councilman, Andrew Kane, told them all to be quiet.
He said that this was an emergency, and if anyone got in the Laird’s way, it would be considered treason. ”
She shivered, dropping into a crouch before the fire. The flames lit up her face, casting dancing shadows across her features.
Skye sank into a chair, pulling her robe more tightly around herself. Her skin must not have dried properly before she put on the robe, and now she felt damp and clammy, the fabric clinging to her.
“I cannae imagine what it was like,” she whispered.
Leah shuddered. “He trusted no one. He was like a madman, tearing apart the keep, desperately trying to find ye. After a full night of searching, we realized that things were worse than they seemed. Ye had been taken out of the keep, and nobody kent where ye had gone.”
“I daenae ken where I went, either,” Skye confessed.
Leah nodded. Unhooking a wooden spoon from her belt—was there anything that she did not carry on that thing?—she began to stir the bubbling liquid. The dried herbs released a greenish color into the water, and the savory scent grew stronger.
“So,” she continued crisply, her voice too loud in the silence. “How do ye feel? Any injuries or soreness? Are ye dizzy? Is there any confusion besides what is to be expected?”
“I daenae think so. I woke with a bruise or two, and a graze on me cheek.”
“Bruises?” Leah perked up, frowning. “Where? How bad were they?”
“Nothing terrible. There were a couple on me calf, and one on me arm, above me elbow.”
“Fingertip-sized?”
“I… I think so. I didnae look too closely at them, and now I believe they’ve begun to fade.”
Leah pursed her lips. “Bruises like that would make me think somebody had grabbed ye. Pulled ye.”
“Maybe. I daenae remember. Is there a herb that could do that to me? Make me forget?”
Leah stirred the tea thoughtfully and nodded. “Aye. Several. We can rule some out straight away, mind. Lady’s Square, for one. I daenae ken the proper name for it, but here we call it that, on account of the plant growing in wee lacy-looking squares.
“It would keep ye knocked out for weeks or months if ye took enough, but ye would likely have wasted away. In any case, the herb leaves a yellow stain on a person’s tongue. Which I daenae believe ye have. Stick yer tongue out for me?”
Skye complied.
Leah sniffed. “Aye, it’s as I thought. Nae Lady’s Square. Dreamroot would do it, but that would only keep ye asleep for a couple of days. Then ye would wake but be groggy. If another dose was served to ye within another day, ye wouldnae remember that day, either.”
Skye shivered. “And this memory loss… is it permanent?”
Leah carefully lifted the skillet off the fire. Picking up a pair of goblets from the table, she poured out two measures of the tea into them, somehow managing not to spill a drop.
“Nay,” she said firmly. “The days ye were asleep, ye wouldnae remember, but ye wouldnae be solidly asleep. Ye’d be in a dreamlike state where ye were faintly aware of what was going on around ye.
And the days ye woke, ye would remember those.
But the herb is still in yer system. It takes days or even weeks to disappear, and until it’s long gone and yer mind goes back to normal, the memories will remain hidden. ”
“So I should remember, eventually?”
“I think so.”
Leah bent down, sniffing the pungent steam rising from the goblets. She nodded approvingly and handed one to Skye. She took it, curling her fingers around the warm goblet, and paused.
“What… What is in this?”
Leah glanced up at her, eyes widening. “Oh, forgive me! Here I have been talking about ye being drugged, and then I hand ye a mysterious tea! There is mint in it, as well as elderberry, nettle, and something I’ve been trying to buy for a long, long time.
” She paused, leaning forward. “Ginseng root. It comes from far, far away. I daenae ken how the merchant got hold of it, but he only had a little of the stuff. It cost me a king’s ransom, but once I convinced Laird Bryden that we could save it for when ye returned, he agreed to pay. ”
Skye glanced down at the murky liquid with trepidation. “Oh.”
“But if ye daenae wish to drink it, me Lady, then daenae. I’ll drink mine, if that’s all the same. The infusion should give strength, at the very least.” Reddening a little, Leah looked away and took a long, luxurious sip of her tea.
Biting her lower lip, Skye took a tentative sip. There was nothing familiar about the flavor. Surely if this was similar to the concoction she’d been served, she would remember it?