by Sarah Hegger
“He doesn’t complain.”
Sheila shook her head. “I’ll wager he doesn’t.”
She placed her healer’s bag on the floor and opened it.
Maeve’s mind slowed to a crawl. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Sheila snorted. “This man is in pain, and I’m a healer. I don’t give a rat’s arse what Fiona has to say on the matter. I also happen to owe this man my life.”
“The council will be angry,” Maeve said.
“Perhaps.” Sheila shrugged. “But you were brave enough to risk their ire by taking us into the village in the first place, and I’m not so paltry as to stand back and allow both you and Roderick to suffer for fear of Fiona getting herself in a twist.”
“Brave?” The word scalded the back of Maeve’s throat. “What I did was stupid, not brave. As much as it galls me to admit this, Fiona is right about that. We all could have died.”
Sheila shuddered. “And well I know it. But you didn’t force us to go to the village.”
“But my actions did force Roderick to come to my rescue.” That fact remained inescapable. “His bond gives him no choice when I’m in danger.”
“That much is true.” Sheila nodded, rubbing her hands together. “But you don’t bear the guilt of that alone, and we’ll do what we can to ease his suffering. In this, my fellow healers and I are in perfect agreement.”
Only part of that was true. The greater share of guilt remained firmly with her, but she wasn’t going to argue the point and deprive Roderick of the help he needed. So, she shut her pie hole and let Sheila get to work.
“Absolutely savage,” Sheila muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “To leave this man in so much pain. Unconscionable.”
Maeve picked her words carefully. She’d had a lot of time to think and replay the scene in the village while she sat beside Roderick. Agnes’s words replayed in her mind: You shouldn’t have interfered. Agnes, and by extension Alexander and his mother, had known about her spirit walk with the original three. Other than Roderick, she had only told one other person about that. Perhaps Fiona had told Edana, or the rest of the council and the knowledge had leaked. Nothing stayed secret in the coven for long.
Maeve was in the unthinkable position of not knowing who of her coven sisters she could trust. Not that many of them thought well of her right now. “Fiona seems to have considerable influence with the council.”
“That’s understating the matter.” Sheila laid her palms on Roderick’s chest. She closed her eyes and her breathing became deep and measured. Her body jerked rigid and her face contorted in pain.
Inside Roderick, Sheila’s healing gift would hunt out the damage and reveal it to the healer. From there, the healer would act as a conduit, and pass the pain and injury through her body into the stones of Baile. When within the castle, the healer need not carry the injury. Here, Baile took it from her directly and fed it into the earth.
“There.” Sheila stepped back, considerably paler now than when she’d entered the room. Healing was a selfless gift, in which the healers never hesitated to place themselves in the path of injury and disease. “That’s the worst of it. The rest his body will take care of swiftly enough.”
“How is Rose?” Maeve hadn’t seen the youngest healer since they’d returned to Baile. Not that she’d seen many people, with most of the castle united in their condemnation of her.
Sheila’s face grew pinched, and she shook her head. “She isn’t recovering as quickly as we would like.” She glanced at Maeve and growled. “Now don’t go laying that on your shoulders as well. We had no business taking such an inexperienced witch to the village, and well we knew it.”
Sheila put a vial of pale-yellow liquid on the table beside Roderick’s bed. “If he wakes and looks to be in discomfort, give him a few drops of that.” She fastened the straps on her healer’s bag. “No, we made the decision to take Rose with us. She has kin in the village, and she was worried about them. But she’s young to her power, and that contagion was stronger than we supposed.”
“She’ll be alright though?” The healers always recovered faster than anyone else.
“We’ll keep an eye on her,” Sheila said and picked up her bag. “There is more in that village to worry us than the contagion.” She shuddered and looked ill. “But for now, you concern yourself with the big fellow here, and we’ll worry about Rose.”
After Sheila left, Maeve drew a chair up to Roderick’s bedside and sat.
He breathed easier since Sheila’s visit, taking in fuller, deeper drafts of air. His face was also more relaxed. Even in deep sleep, Roderick looked fierce, the lines of his face too uncompromising to ever claim boyishness. With his fighter’s grace and powerful form, he was the sort of man who made girls giggle and try to catch his eye. He deserved a better witch, one more cognizant of the honor bestowed on her by Goddess in granting her a coimhdeacht in the first place.
However, she could and would do better, and he would recover much faster now that Sheila had visited.
Some of the tension in Maeve’s chest eased. Still, Sheila hadn’t assured her Rose would be fine and Maeve would only truly rest easy when the young healer was declared out of harm’s way.
Roderick’s dry rasp made her jump. “You’re frowning.”
“How are you feeling?” She scrambled to her feet, feeling better when she was standing.
Roderick grimaced. “I’ll live. I’ve had worse.”
She nodded. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she clasped them in front of her. The silence vibrated with all the things she wanted to say but couldn’t bring herself to say. Mostly she wanted to embrace him and tell him how relieved she was that he was still alive and on his way to recovery.
She shouldn’t be standing there with a mouthful of teeth, clueless as to what to say next. The bond between blessed and coimhdeacht was unbreakable, for life. They needed to do better than this constant sniping and bickering. She needed to do better.
Maeve took her seat. She leaned forward and gave his hand a quick pat. “I’m glad you’re going to be all right.”
“Really?” He looked at her and smirked.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. More sorry than I can say.” The words rushed out her mouth.
Roderick stared at her.
Having come this far, she may as well finish the matter. “I’m sorry for causing all of this. I should have listened to you and never gone to the village.
Frowning, Roderick peered at her face. “Are you feeling guilty? About what happened?” He waved a hand down his length. “About what happened to me?”
“Yes.” That hardly needed clarification, but she was truly remorseful, and being sharp with him would undermine that.
“Maeve.” Roderick chuckled and shook his head. “I appreciate the apology, I really do. But I have been coimhdeacht for over five hundred years, and before that I was a knight. This is hardly the first fight I’ve lost, and sadly it won’t be the last.” He held up his hand to silence her when she would speak. “You’re the third witch I’ve served as guardian.”
“I know about Tahra, but not much about Brigid,” she said, still not sure he would even welcome a closer connection between them.
He nodded. “Brigid was older when I was assigned to her, and she had a specific task to accomplish. She chose to move on once it was completed.”
“And then me?” She was too remorseful to press for details.
Roderick nodded. “And then you. I’m well acquainted with the nature of cré-witches. I was angered when I discovered you’d gone anyway, but hardly surprised.”
“Oh.” All in all, she felt rather deflated. Her major transgression seemed to amount to more or less what he expected of her. “Well, still, I’m sorry. And I hated seeing you get hurt.”
“I accept your apology,” he sai
d, “and no more enjoyed getting hurt than you enjoyed watching it.”
Guilt washed over her anew.
“Maeve,” he growled in that officious manner of his. “Stop looking so stricken. I’ll be fine, and you’ll be back to calling me names beneath your breath in no time.”
Heat climbed her cheeks. She’d do well to remember his excellent hearing in the future.
“Of a more pressing concern,” he said, shifting in his bed, “is that it looks like Rhiannon has friends within Baile.”
Chapter 14
Maeve was glad Roderick couldn’t leave his bed to see this. She stayed on the battlements long past when the other witches left and stared at the gibbet. Two more bodies had joined Jane, Rebecca and Molly. Two women who had raised their voices in her defense and now swung lifelessly beside the others.
Her face blackened and bloodied, the matron who had first challenged Agnes hung beside a younger woman.
Pinned to the top of the gibbet, a rough wooden sign stated in hasty rust-colored letters: Witches Must Die.
Edana joined her at the parapet and leaned forward between the crenellations.
Maeve tensed, sure that whatever Edana had to say, she didn’t want to hear.
“Come to view your handiwork?” Edana sneered. “He deserves so much better than you.”
Possibly for the first time in their lives, she agreed with Edana. Roderick did deserve better. Better than her, for certain, but also better than a merciless bitch who used the death of innocent women to score a blow against a coven sister.
With Tahra, Roderick had experienced better, but for now he was stuck with her. Neither of them had chosen their bond, and for all her resistance, it was now Roderick who paid the price. “You’re right,” she said. “But until Goddess herself breaks this bond, I’m all he has.”
She turned and walked away. Two younger witches scowled at her as she passed. Maeve wished she could say she grew immune to the hostility, but each glare scraped her raw.
Taking the back way to the barracks, via the training yards, she slipped into the main area where a few coimhdeacht lounged at tables. A small group by the window were playing dice. They glanced up when she entered, nodded, and went back to their game.
Through a rough arch, she entered the training area. Steel clanged as two men sparred. She skirted the sandy area and entered the sleeping rooms.
Thomas stepped out of the bathing area. A drying cloth rode the slim jut of his hips. Above the white cloth, water clung to the battle hewn lines of his chest.
A small smile tilting his mouth, Thomas sauntered toward her and stopped right in front of her. “Blessed.”
“Thomas.” Her throat dried and heat thrummed beneath her skin. She must be all shades of red if the warmth flooding her face was any indication.
Crowding even closer, until she could smell his clean skin and soap combination, Thomas tilted her chin up. His beautiful hazel eyes studied her. “Still persecuting yourself, I see?”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow, calling her a liar.
The burden of guilt pressed down on her. “He was hurt, almost killed, because of me.”
“Maeve,” Thomas purred. “Roderick is hurt because it’s the nature of who he is. It’s the risk we all accept.” His gaze caressed her face and down over her breasts. “And for the most part, it’s a risk well worth taking.”
“Thomas, are you flirting with me?” She couldn’t be sure. The experience was that new to her.
White teeth flashing as he laughed, Thomas shook his head. “Clearly, I’m losing my touch.”
Maeve wouldn’t go that far. For the first time in days she felt like smiling.
“Thomas,” Roderick barked from behind Thomas.
Still grinning, Thomas turned and faced Roderick.
Roderick approached them, wearing his breeches and several bandages. He also wore the most ferocious frown Maeve had yet to see. Fortunately, he kept most of it reserved for Thomas. “Have you nothing better to do?”
“Not really.” Thomas winked at Maeve. “Not with you laid up.”
A muscle ticked in Roderick’s jaw, and his scowl deepened. “I’m back on my feet now.”
“How fortunate,” Thomas drawled and gave Maeve a melting smile. “We hardly knew how to entertain ourselves without you.”
Smirk still in place, he brushed past Maeve and whispered in her ear, “And yes, I was flirting. Think about it.”
Roderick stood there and glowered.
While he did, she took a moment to compare a near naked Roderick to a near naked Thomas.
And thank you, Goddess, for showering your bounty on this worthless witch.
“Are you feeling better?” Roderick was broader than Thomas but an inch or so shorter. Thomas resembled a wolf: rangy, strong and graceful. Roderick was all prime bull. The thought made her snort with laughter.
Roderick’s cold gaze snapped back to her. “Watch out for Thomas. He likes a new conquest in his sheets.”
“It would be an improvement to being drowned while still a virgin.” She had spoken before she could censor her thought.
Roderick’s eyes widened.
Even knowing it was a lost cause, she clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Maeve.” Roderick’s expression changed. Intent and slumberous, he gazed down at her. “There are better men to help you with that.”
“Like who?” She glanced about them.
Roderick grasped her elbow and walked her back to his chamber. “Where have you been? And Thomas is right, you look like a whipped dog.”
“Thomas never said that.” She nearly tripped over her feet. “Could we go back to the last thing.”
He frowned. “The whipped dog?”
“Before that.” Maeve dug her heels in and forced him to stop.
Flashing her a grin at least as wicked as Thomas’s, Roderick stopped. “You mean the part about other men?”
Her face nearly exploded with heat. “Yes, that part.”
“Don’t look so shocked, Maeve.” Roderick touched her cheek. “You’re lovely and Thomas isn’t the only one to notice.” He got them moving again. “Now tell me what has got under your skin?”
“I was on the parapet, and Edana joined me there.” Guilt returned and chased other thoughts away. “Two more villagers have been hanged.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Roderick scowled. “I’m sure Edana used their deaths to heap the blame on you.”
“It’s no more than I deserve.”
“Maeve.” Roderick stopped and gripped her shoulders. “None of this is your fault.”
She gazed at the bandages still strapped over his middle. “I’m certain that it is.”
“The dissention in the village had been brewing for a while.” Roderick slid his arm around her shoulders. “And now we know who is behind it.”
Maeve allowed herself to be enfolded in his warmth. Her cheek pressed to the smooth skin of his chest, his waist trim and strong as she slid her arms about him. He was her coimhdeacht; she was allowed to draw comfort from him. She wouldn’t be the first witch to do so. And more.
“But I have more bad news.” His voice rumbled beneath her ear. “Sheila was just with me.”
Maeve’s belly dropped. She read the answer through their bond.
“The young healer. Rose?” Roderick’s big hand spanned her back. “She has contracted the village contagion.”
Maeve reeled. Even as the logical part of her brain rejected the accusation, guilt wriggled round to the side door and let himself in. Determined to prove to all those misguided enough to side with Fiona and the council that she knew better, she’d allowed pride to lead them here.
“That’s not your fault either.” Roderick leaned closer to her and spoke beside her ear.
“Rose is ill
,” she said. “She’s infected with whatever ails the village.”
“And the healers chose to take her. She wanted to help because she had family in the village.” Roderick hissed a breath and eased back from her.
“You should be in bed.” She needn’t have bothered, as Roderick would only do as he deemed necessary.
“And you should stop taking responsibility for that which isn’t yours to shoulder.” Roderick shifted his weight and eased closer to her. “Let me guess what you’re thinking.”
Maeve shrugged. What a pity it had taken this to have her and Roderick groping their way toward functioning as a pair.
He took her shrug as permission and folded his arms. “You’re thinking that if not for you and your stubborn insistence on showing the healers the way to the village, I wouldn’t have been hurt, and the others wouldn’t have been exposed to the danger.” He sniffed. “And in this you’re right.”
“Thanks.” She hastily stamped on the hurt. She much preferred Thomas’s version of comfort.
“I speak only the truth.” He shrugged. “I’ll never lie to you, Blessed. Of this you can be sure. Sometimes the truth I offer won’t be welcome, but it’ll always be the truth as I see it.” He took her hand. “I tell you this, so you’ll know you may always trust my word. I’ll never soften the truth to spare your feelings, nor will I allow you to shoulder what isn’t yours to bear.”
Maeve stared at where her hand was engulfed by his much larger one. “I should have listened to you.”
“Maybe.” He squeezed her hand. “But you acted with your conscience, and for that I can’t fault you. You believed the villagers needed the healers, and it was the healers who made the decision to go. You merely provided the path. They chose to set their feet upon it. Look at me.”
He waited until she dragged her gaze up to his.
The cold blue of his eyes warmed. “And now Edana comes and whispers her poison in your ear. I’ve seen fighting men like her. Their gift is in understanding their opponent’s weakness and homing in on it with unerring skill. But as skilled as she is at it, you’re the one who allows her into your mind. It’s you who gives her poison a home.” He turned then and limped away from her.