by Victoria Zak
“Since I do no’ have a lot of knowledge of yer kind has there ever been a situation where a Dragonkine has healed a human woman while pregnant? What concerns me is that she’ll be in a healing sleep and I dinnae know how the babe will fare.”
Conall turned to Abigale with a look of defeat written on his face. “I have no knowledge about a Kine healing a human woman with child. Our kind usually mates with our females, no’ humans.”
“James? Do ye know?” She looked at her husband as if he had to know, or at least prayed he knew the answer.
“Nay, bele ange. I dinnae know.”
Frustration festered as Conall’s hope of saving Effie crumbled away. There had to be something he could do. For Christ sake he was a dragon, there was magic pulsing through his blood. “Ye be telling me that if I heal her, it could harm the babe?”
“Aye.”
“And if I dinnae heal her, she’ll die?”
Abigale hung her head down looking at her blood-covered apron. “Aye,” she choked out. “And even if ye heal her there’s still a chance she’ll never walk again.”
Conall couldn’t believe what he was hearing. If he healed his wife, she could lose the babe, or he could do nothing and leave fate in God’s hands that Effie and the babe would survive.
Pacing his hindrance into the stone floor, he needed to make a decision and fast. Effie’s life sat in the palms of his hands; he needed to get his head straight.
Back at Caerlaverock the lass had showed courage beyond compare, even risking her own life to save him. Their fates had turned and now she needed him to fight for her more than ever.
A few paces and profanities later, he knew what he had to do. To hell with fate. If he could save the woman he loved he would do it and never think twice about it. Sure he damned himself selfish, for putting their unborn at risk, however he couldn’t live without her in his life. Without further hesitation, he opened the chamber door and closed it behind him. He was going to save Effie and worry about the ramifications later.
~~~~~
The smell of burning sage clung to the air, warding off the evil spirits that might be lurking around Effie’s bedchamber. Alice had sworn to Conall that her ritual of smudging would help in the healing process. Abigale and James’s girls made trinkets from a rowan tree and hung them around the bed and placed one around Conall’s neck, telling him he too needed to be healed.
In the evening as the Dragonkine brothers, and Alice and Abigale stopped by the bedchamber to pray over Effie, wee one played a tune on the harp that Effie had taught her, showing her how much she missed Effie. Not only was Conall grief-stricken, Abigale’s girls were too. Though Conall wanted to be left alone he knew that they weren’t just here to pray for Effie; they didn’t want him to grieve alone.
Although he believed it all to be silly folklore, he accepted the gifts and enjoyed the company. Perhaps putting a wee bit of faith in those treasures wasn’t a bad idea after all. All he had left was hope as the second day of the healing was coming to an end.
Alice had brought food up to him and by the second trip she had a bath prepared and clean clothes laid out. Guilty didn’t come close to describing how he felt for leaving her side when Alice persisted that he take a bath and eat to keep his strength up. Being back home, the evil magic he’d once felt was long gone and his own wounds were healed, which made him feel even guiltier. He was healed while his love lay asleep and still wounded.
Even though Effie felt no pain and slept peacefully, alas he couldn’t shake the guilt-ridden feeling. He spent the days washing the blood from her body, brushing her beautiful red hair, and tending to the fire in the hearth, making sure she was comfortable while she slept.
Now Conall sat in a chair next to Effie reflecting on how his life, his long never-ending life, had come full circle. He had been here before, had seen the aftermath of violence that was brought upon his family. Coming home from hunting to find his wife and son burned and their house in flames was an image that forever haunted him. He hated himself more than the rogue Vikings who had left him hollow and took away his life, his family. He’d failed to protect them. And as if fate wasn’t enough of a bloody bastard, he was in the same situation all over again with Effie, except this time he had hope. There had been no hope for his wife and son. The deed had been done and he had been left to bury them and endlessly live with the pain of losing his loved ones.
Aye, he had hope. He had put Effie under a healing sleep regardless of the risk to their unborn babe.
Conall stood and walked over to Effie and adjusted the fur over her legs. His eyes moved up her body and settled on her stomach. Even though she wasn’t showing much of a pregnant belly, there was a wee babe in there fighting for its life just like its mother. He placed his hand flat on her belly ever so gently. “Please forgive me, wee one.” His voice was raspy and low. “Yer ma and I need ye to be strong and brave.” He bent down and kissed her belly.
As soon as he made contact with Effie, his legs buckled and he fell to his knees. In one massive wave, his world crashed over him and he lost control, the very same control he’d fought hard to keep. Heavy tears breached the wall of strength he’d held up for so long, and raw bleak emotions jerked from his body as he laid his head down on Effie’s lap. “Stay with me,” he said between deep breaths as he clenched the furs on the bed. “I can no’ lose ye, lass.”
A fortnight could have passed for all he knew as the hysterics wore off. Blinking past the tears, he pressed his head against her chest and listened to her breath. The rhythmic beating of her heart soothed him and his dragon, confirming that she was indeed still with him and fighting.
He rubbed her stomach in a circular motion as if he was making a wish. Conall supposed he was in fact doing just that, making a wish, vowing his soul in return for hers and his babe.
“Conall,” she whispered.
Listlessly he raised his head and was beyond belief when forest-green eyes stared back at him. “Effie.” He’d have pinched himself if he hadn’t been in shock. “Ye’re awake?”
Coughing through a dry throat she said, “Aye.”
Leaping out of his seat Conall threw his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. “Thank the Gods that be, ye’re awake.”
“Conall, ye’re... squishing me.”
Regaining his composure, he straightened himself, but never taking his hands away from touching her. “Forgive me. I thought I’d lost ye, lass.”
“Nay,” she coughed again. “I’m here.”
Cursing himself for a fool he let go of her hand and fetched her some water. “Here, drink this.” He sat back down and continued to rub his hands up and down her arms. “Do ye remember what happened?”
Effie paused from quenching her thirst as she recalled the last images she had of Caerlaverock. Her eyes grew big. “I was falling... and you caught me.”
“Aye, I did.”
“And I killed Tavish.” Her face flashed a frown. “Then I must have fainted, I dinnae remember anything after that.” There was a hint of panic in her tone of voice. Conall could see that she was trying to make sense of it all as she desperately fought to remember.
“Effie, yer brother wasn’t dead like we thought. I flew ye back to the tower and as I was making sure ye were alright, yer brother threw a dagger at ye and it pierced yer back.”
“He threw a dagger at me? But I stabbed him, which I know for certain.”
“Aye, I couldn’t believe it meself. But the bastart had one last fight in him and then I finished him off.”
“I see.”
“I didnae know what else to do so I flew ye back here so Abigale could heal ye, but...” he raked a hand through his hair, “ye lost a lot of blood, lass, and under the circumstances ye’re in I had to heal ye for if not I would have lost ye.”
Effie’s brow furrowed. “What do ye mean, circumstances?” She struggled to sit up. Helping her, Conall lifted her until her back rested comfortably on an array of billowing pillows behind her.
“Do ye need anything, like food? Aye, ye must be hungry.”
“Dinnae change the subject, Conall. There’s something ye’re no’ telling me. Why can I no’ feel me legs?”
And here it was, the dreadful moment of truth. She had to know he’d healed her in order to save her life, yet he could have very well put their babe in grave danger. And to add to her dismay she might never walk again. Hating the fact he had to be the bearer of bad news, Conall gave pause to gather up his thoughts.
“Effie.” He sat down by her bedside and held her slender hand in his. “I do no’ know where to start.” He took a deep breath and hoped that she would understand that his motives were out of love for her.
Her brows creased as she looked at Conall for the answers.
“The dagger was embedded close to yer spine. Ye can no’ feel yer legs because of the severity of yer wound. Abigale did all that she could but she needed me help. Even with me magic there was no guarantee ye would be able to walk.”
“So, are ye telling me I’ll never walk?”
“’Tis possible, aye. We’ll only know as ye fully heal.”
Effie stilled as she wadded the sheet in her hands. Conall knew it was a lot for the lass to process, but he needed to tell her everything. “Effie, ye’re with child.”
Effie’s head popped up from staring at the crumpled sheet. “A babe?”
Conall smiled, for he couldn’t help it. The thought of Effie carrying his child left him proud and warm inside. Even his dragon purred at that idea. “But—”
“Oh please, Conall, how much worse can it be? Dinnae tell me that the babe is at risk.”
As quickly as his joy at her waking had come, his insides turned sorrowful. Fate had really kicked him hard in the ballocks, damned his soul. With one last plea to whoever was listening, Conall blew out a deep breath. “I had to make a decision and I hope in time ye can forgive me. Abigale warned me that if I healed ye, the babe might not make it. We just dinnae know how the babe will react to me magic. I had to save ye, my sweet. I know it was a selfish act but I can no’ live withoot ye.”
Effie remained silent a little longer than Conall would have liked, which caused him to worry. He was all ready for her to kick his arse out of the chamber for putting their babe at risk. Furthermore, he wouldn’t blame her if she did. At least she lived, and to him that was all that mattered. He hung his head and closed his eyes, waiting for his judgment.
“Conall, there’s nothing to forgive. Ye did the best ye could to save me...” she reached over and squeezed his arm, “and ye did. I’m alive because of ye. Our babe will be just fine.”
He leaned in, giving her a soft kiss. “I love ye, lass, and whatever may be, I’ll be here, right here with ye.” His words were more than a promise, they were an assurance.
Her smile was all that he needed as he looked down at his beautiful red-haired lass. It reassured him that he’d done right by her. Together they would conquer the outcome of the situation, and no matter what, he would be there right by her side.
“Conall, can ye bring me some food?”
“Aye, what do ye fancy?”
“Alice’s special oat cakes.” She rolled her eyes, as if she remembered the delectable taste.
Bending down he kissed her forehead and lingered there for a brief second as he closed his eyes and thanked the Gods that be that his Effie was alive and he was forgiven.
Chapter 20
A long emotional week followed, which started out positive, optimistic at its height, but alas the mood turned to frustration as Effie was losing her hold on hope, for she had done everything in her power to walk or at least feel some sensation in her legs. Conall had massaged her legs with healing oils that Abigale swore by, yet no luck. Every day, three times a day he would exercise her legs, bending them at the knee and then releasing them, yet again, nothing. She refused his kind gesture to pick her up and take her outside for fresh air, telling her that the sun would do her some good. Nor would she accompany him to the great hall for meals when he asked. She didn’t want to be a burden. Besides, she wasn’t quite ready to face the world attached to a chair and she didn’t want to be pitied.
After the argument she’d had with Conall a few minutes ago about wedding plans, and her inability to walk to her husband on their wedding day, she kicked him out of the room. He was adamant that they marry as soon as possible and as stubborn as he was he wasn’t taking no for an answer. For the love of saints, she was only asking him to wait another month. Heated and irrational, she’d told him what to do with his plans and threw a candlestick from her nightstand at him when he refused to leave. And now with no ability to run, she was stuck in this Godforsaken bedchamber immobilized in a bed with her face flushed red, alone.
Perhaps it was the sage wafting in the air that was driving her daft or the way the trinkets would rattle as the wind blew in from the open window. Nay, there was one thing and only one that was driving her to insanity. Her legs. Her legs would just not move.
Irritated she huffed and threw her body back down into the billowing pillows, heaving one across the room. There were so many damn pillows. As she lay, she blew a loose red curl from her face, ashamed of her nasty attitude and the way she’d treated Conall. It was unforgivable. He was only trying to help her, which only made her feel worse.
She turned her head toward the nightstand, recalling the way she flung the candlestick, and to her surprise she noticed that the missive her father had left her was lying on the table. It was finally time she read his last words. Scooting herself toward the side of the bed, she finally reached the nightstand. With her arm reached out, she willed her body further and grabbed the note.
She gently flattened the scrolled parchment and began to read her father’s last words.
My dearest daughter,
It saddens me heart that we have drifted apart, yet I knew that the time would come when ye would blossom into a beautiful bird and leave the nest. Ye’re a strong woman just like yer mother. I still miss her dearly. Ye remind me of her, ye have her smile and courageousness. She’d be proud of ye just as I am.
Though I know I’ve made mistakes in the past, I’ve strayed from yer mother and caused her pain. I should have told ye sooner but Tavish is me bastart son. And a bastart he is. I never loved his mother and I think in return Tavish knew this and hated me for it. His hatred grew when ye were born. He felt threatened by ye because pure Maxwell blood runs through yer veins and yer heart is pure.
Ye’re probably asking yerself why I didnae tell ye sooner and frankly I ask the same question to meself. Perhaps I wanted to protect ye from all the politics of being a clan chief or maybe I just felt invincible. Whatever it may have been my dearest, ye are the one and only true Maxwell and the only one to take me place.
Keep Sir Neil close at hand. He will protect ye. As for I... och lass, I dinnae need to tell ye what ye already know. I’m with yer mother and I will tell her what a fine lass ye’ve become.
Da
Tears streamed down her cheeks and dappled the parchment as she finished reading the last lines of the note.
“Oh da, I wish I could have said goodbye.” She sniffed and brushed her face with the back of her hands. If only she could have seen him one last time.
Her father was a strong leader, one of the best. How was she going to follow in her father’s footsteps when she couldn’t walk? How would she ride out in battle to encourage her warriors to fight for her and their clan? Even more, how could a clan follow a broken chief? Her clan would be an easy target she supposed, for she was a female, and not too many females were clan leaders. That alone made her weak in the enemy’s eyes.
Without doubt Neil would stand by her as the loyalist Maxwell warrior he was. He’d proven his loyalty and she could count on him to advise her. He was just like a father to her and now more than ever she would need him.
Another thought came to her as she rubbed her belly. A babe. She smiled and pushed away the thought of
the possibility that the unborn would not make it. She had to believe that some good could come out of the disaster she and Conall had been through or else she would go daft. It broke her heart knowing that Conall would never forgive himself if the babe didn’t make it.
So she had only one option; she needed to walk. She needed to be strong for Conall, the babe, and her clan, and she was going to walk to her husband on their wedding day, that was a fact. There were too many people depending on her for her to give up and quit. Her mother fought her illness to the death, her father fought to his last breath, and she’d been fighting her whole life to free herself from a horrific past. There was no honor in lying down like a defeated coward. If her family had taught her one thing it was to fight.
Determined more than ever she ripped the blankets off her body with one tug and rose up on her elbows. Glaring at her toes as if she dared them to disobey, she said, “Move ye bloody bastarts. Wiggle.” A few seconds passed and the slightest tingle pricked her toes. Not just one toe but all ten. Straining to flex her toes back and forth, she was surprised when the ten wiggly digits succumbed to her command.
As her feet became more accustomed to the movement, the prickling sensation moved up her calf and caused her muscles to twitch. She held back an excited squeal, for she knew this could be false hope leading her down a doomed path.
She flexed her toes and rotated her ankles slightly from side to side until they were fatigued. Her elbows shook with exhaustion and gave out from beneath her. Fighting the urge to give up, Effie lay there regaining her strength and honing in on her inner cheering-crowd. Ye can do this, Effie.
She gave pause when she felt a faint flutter dance across her belly. Unable to move from the pure shock of the movement, she stilled and waited to feel it again. Shortly, another dance rippled like the tiniest flap of a baby bird’s wings just learning to fluff its feathers.