The Lost Lady

by Amelia Brown

  The wheeze in his lungs was troublesome; being in bed for an extended period had caused a number of unknown complications, perhaps even pneumonia along with the muscle loss. The boy had a fever that seemed to return in cycles, the most recent of which had started the night before. Luckily, Holden could be roused enough to take in some liquids two or three times a day, but the healers had been using those opportunities to pore God knows what down his throat instead of trying to nourish his body.

  Luveday pulled out her herbal, the book by Ody was dog-eared, smudged and full of slips of paper with notes about things she had learned from Cass and Emmalyn, but it had proven a lifesaver. She was sure she had memorized its pages, but the volume quieted some of her own doubts. Without a definite diagnosis, she could only start treating the symptoms she could see. Luveday made a list of herbs and the supplies she would need. She would need someplace to work but didn’t want to be too far from the boy. She had plans and a list of to-dos an arm long. She prayed for the one thing she knew was outside of her power; time.

  An unnatural quiet settled over the city as the moon rose high. Logan entered the prince’s room to check on the boy. Each time he approached the bed a weight dropped to the bit of his stomach as if his heart had turned to stone and fallen from its mount. Dread caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end, his hands grew clammy, and his skin chilled as if death itself waited nearby. The steady rise and fall of boy’s chest released a rush of relief and gratitude each time Logan found his friend still alive. Even though only a few years separated them, Logan felt as if he had aged decades over the last few moons.

  Logan stopped to study his friend, unable to see the vibrant and joking boy in the body on the bed. The light of his lantern made the child look too pale and thin. As he was about to return and find his bed, he noticed the light caught something else as well. On the far side of the bed, before the windows whose curtains were open to reveal a starry sky, sat a sizeable winged-back chair. Covered in her traveling cloak and curled into a ball, Lady Luveday had fallen asleep while watching her charge.

  The lady looked small and young in such a position, more modest and more youthful than she had when they had first met that evening. As a servant, Logan had no place to go against the Queen’s wishes, and as the recipient of their trust and charity, he had not the heart to challenge their decision though everything he possessed told him there was something unusual about the lady. He could no longer say if her presence here would help or harm his friend. So, he decided to watch and wait for he had no other options. She was the last hope, the previous healer, and if she could not help Holden, then no one could.

  He returned to his room and the small bed beyond. His dreams were plagued by memories of the prince and the night held no reprieve from his fears.

  Chapter 16

  “Why, what is to live? Not to eat and drink and breathe,

  —but to feel the life in you down all the fibres of being,

  passionately and joyfully.”

  ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  Luveday worked in the still room that had once been the Prince’s horde of toys and gear. The boy had shown little improvement in three days’ time, but she hadn’t expected much. Thomas was a Godsend and a more knowledgeable assistant she couldn’t find. The connection they had seemed to share in the north was still there. The young man worked diligently beside her and without whose help she wouldn’t have been able to find the herbs and equipment she needed, whether from the royal stores or local vendors. Luveday didn’t know what she would have done without him or the name of his master which he wielded shamelessly to motivate disagreeable parties.

  Thomas had returned to town and remained there since leaving the north. Pope had traveled about a good deal, leaving Thomas on his own, which was nothing new. The young healer had not heard of his master’s visit to Lander’s Keep until Pope’s return, and then he had heard every detail for some weeks. There was no love lost between Luveday and the old man, Thomas was secretly pleased every time he heard the story of Luveday throwing him out of the Keep. From Pope’s retelling, Thomas could believe that Luveday had chased the man through the gates herself. Luveday laughed as Thomas mimicked his master perfectly, as he groused about the spiteful little woman. Luveday almost didn’t recognize herself or her friends in his tales and shook her head that the old man worried only for his hurt pride, and not for almost costing Iain De Lane his life.

  Thomas made the mistake of trying to talk about the lord of Lander’s Keep only once, briefly mentioning the wedding. He had watched Luveday stiffen beside him and glimpsed the pain in her expression as they sorted through herbs before she had pointedly changed the subject. He had more than guested that something lay between them, and part of him was glad that she was here now, while the other part cursed De Lane for a fool, a damned fool for letting such a woman go. They spoke of it no more.

  By the end of her first full day as court healer, she had set up a stillroom to rival any in the kingdom. She was neat, organized, focused and determined to succeed if not for the Prince’s sake then for her own. There had been only one instance when Luveday had faltered in her determination. It had been that first morning after she had awoken cramped and aching from the night spent in the chair beside the prince’s bed. Throwing off her cloak, she had looked across the bed to see what had awoken her. There stood a man fussing with a small chart and a number of bowls. At first, Luveday’s mind was too foggy from sleep to realize what she was seeing, but as the man pulled a familiar looking blade from its sheath, she could not help the yell that had escaped her.

  The man looked at her startled as he froze in place like a deer in headlights. Footsteps were heard drawing closer, but Luveday had already rounded the bed to find the man had moved and now faced her, blade in hand ready to defend himself.

  “Stay back woman; I mean no trouble to you.”

  Luveday grew angry at the man’s demeanor as if she were the threat here. “No, you stay back. Stay away from the Prince.”

  Offended he gasped, “I will not. I am the royal bloodletter. I…”

  She didn’t let him finish but plucked the blade from his hand while he was too distracted with his own importance to resist. “I know who and what you are. You will not come near the boy again while he is in my charge.” Jane and Thomas entered through the main doors, while Logan had appeared from his rooms. They looked at the scene in confusion.

  “This is an ancient healing…” The man tried to enlighten the woman but was clearly wary of someone who now had his knife.

  “I know the history, and I know what harm it causes.” Luveday turned as Logan came up behind her.

  The look on his face was dark and directed solely at her. “Morgan has been at this castle for decades, leave him be, lady.” The bloodletter gasped at the title.

  “I will not.” Luveday was so angry that tears came to her eyes. “I will not let him drain the prince of his life’s blood while he is fighting to survive. God knows how he had made it this long with you backward and ignorant people.”

  “Luveday! Bloodletting is…” Someone tried to say, but Luveday cut them off.

  “Ancient, time-honored and the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.” She blinked away the tears and looked at their astonished faces. “How much blood do you think is in the human body? Huh? How much can you take out before the heart stops? Before he stops breathing?” She held the small blade not realizing she was jabbing it at them to emphasize her words. “It’s supposed to remove bad blood? How can you tell if it is bad or not? Holden is barely eating enough to stay alive, and you want to make his body work harder to replace the blood it’s lost?”

  Morgan sputtered.

  Luveday turned back to him. “I am in charge here, and I say, out with you.” She squared her shoulder and looked him dead in the eyes. “Out!”

  Morgan tried to protest, looking to Logan who stepped around the little healer to usher the man out. Luveday heard him say, “She i
s here by order of the King and Queen. Her word is final.”

  The man collected his belonging, somehow forgetting the knife she still carried. Before he was escorted out the door, he looked back at Logan. “Let’s hope she has not killed the boy already.”

  Jane looked at Luveday as if she did not know her; Thomas looked equally troubled while Logan just glared. Luveday had beyond crying; she was truly angry now. The two she counted on had not had her back, and while she tried to remind herself that they knew no better, a part of her was deeply wounded by this.

  She had spent the day in stony silence, rolling up her sleeves and getting to work. They had much to do and no time to waste. By the end of the day, Jane had softened to her and Thomas’s faith was as unwavering as it had once been. She thought maybe even Logan had revised his harsh opinion of her, but it was only a thought. Her attention returned to the task at hand. By nightfall, the stillroom was almost complete, already herbs seeped in pots and ingredients hung from pegs. As the first remedies were finally prepared, word came that the last of the herbs were on their way. She could not have hoped for a better outcome, though some dissension was heard brewing among the castle’s population. Luveday could not help their hurt feelings and bruised pride, nor did she care to at the moment. Her sole focus was the prince, and everything else would have to wait.

  The two days since that bloodletting incident had not proved fruitless. Logan continued to watch her like a hawk and seemed begrudgingly impressed by her skill and the ease with which she worked beside Thomas. They moved as a team and thought along the same lines. It was almost as if they were back on the battlefield in the north not being separated for months. They poured over Ody’s herbal and their notes. Thomas had been astonished at the book and the detail of the drawings there. There was no way to tell him they were photographs of the actual plants and not handmade drawings, so she let him think what he would. They started treating the symptoms they could easily identify in hopes of eliminating what they could and getting down to the real problem.

  Oils, rubs, tinctures, teas, and compresses were concocted and taken directly to the sickbed. Luveday minced, chopped, powdered, boiled and stirred until her arms ached. Some of the herbs would take days to turn into the proper syrups and tinctures while others she could boil in teas which were given to the prince right away. Garlic was a natural antimicrobial and antifungal, catnip and purple coneflower for cold, Elder Cowslip and Eucalyptus to help break loose the phlegm she could hear in his lungs. Lavender, fever-foe, St. John’s wart and Vervain Verbena were to help with headaches and fever, an additional antiinflammatory herbs for the nervous system. Comfrey and Tyne mixed with essential oils of mint and lavender were rubbed into his joints and put into hot compresses to help ease the act of being in bed for so long.

  Luveday started to help Thomas move the boy’s limbs to get blood circulating and keep the muscles from deteriorating further. If anyone were watching, they would think that this treatment was ridiculous, but Luveday knew of its benefits and wouldn’t let making a spectacle of themselves worry her one bit.

  The Queen and King came and went with little fanfare. Benedict came to collect his mother, reminding her that she should be careful around the sick bed. Luveday was rarely far from it. As the prince’s body began to fight off his illness, he got worse before he got better. The coughing started after a few days as the herbs worked as an expectorant to loosen the mucus in his lungs. Weak as he was, someone had to hold the boy in a sitting position while he coughed up green and brown mucus that was at times hard and dense. The more he could get out of his lungs the better he would be, but the coughing fits wore him out quickly.

  The prince began to improve in small stages, but Luveday couldn’t tell exactly which treatment may have caused it or if the boy was recovering on his own once the crackpots and their potions were gone. After a few days more, Holden had almost lucid moments, and they were able to get more substantial amounts of beef broth and teas down him. He seemed to enjoy the ritual of baths and linen changing that the group did every few days. Now that his body was sweating and releasing toxins Luveday was even more worried about him lying in soiled sheets.

  Several weeks after her arrival she sat practically in the prince’s bed feeding him spoonful after spoonful of broth as he lay propped up with an array of pills and looked at her. For the first time, she could tell that he saw her and was not in some semi-conscious state. Often, he would appear lucid asking questions and talking briefly but fall back into slumber only to wake again and repeat himself having no memory of what had happened before.

  Logan was overjoyed the first time Holden had opened his eyes and spoken to him, but Luveday could see that the boy’s eyes remained clouded and far away. Luveday warned him, but it was still heartbreaking to see the light leave Logan’s eyes after the second and third time the prince had called to him asking for water and what had happened to him.

  “Who are you?” A hoarse voice asked.

  “Easy, your Highness. You have a sore throat from a bout of coughing earlier.” She carefully raised the spoon toward his lips. “Here have some of this, and you will feel better.” The boy swallowed obediently. “I am Lady Luveday, recently of Lander’s Keep. I am a healer, and it has been my pleasure to care for you these last two fortnights.”

  He looked startled and turned to her. “Two?” He looked down and fiddled with the sheet. He wore only a linen tunic, soft and undyed. He looked at his arms, the bones shown in odd places. Worried eyes looked at her as he had trouble shifting in bed.

  “Easy, Love.” She said, taking no notice of the endearment. “You have been ill much longer than that, Prince Holden. ‘Tis been nearing four moons now.”

  Thoughts raced across the boy’s face as he warred with the truth before him. He looked at her again, his expression clearing some. “Benjamin?” Luveday was puzzled by this; she had not seen any of the other princes. For their safety, they had been moved from the castle and city once their brother had fallen ill and no cure had made an improvement to his condition.

  His expression was expectant, and then it occurred to her, he was not asking for his brother but about her connection to him. She blushed. “Yes. I am that lady that saved Prince Benjamin in Sterling’s camp.”

  To her surprise, the boy perked up at this news. A door opened as Thomas returned with the ingredients she had requested. “Thomas, please get Logan for me, I believe he is reading some letters in his room.” Thomas looked to the bed and met the prince’s clear gaze and back to Luveday who nodded at him. With a wide smile and a skip in his step, Thomas rushed off. A moment later both young men returned to the bedside. Luveday continued to spoon broth down his throat as he listened to Logan rattle happily on about everything that had happened since he became ill. The prince drifted off to sleep with a warm, full, belly as Luveday promised to recount her time in Sterling’s camp the next time he awoke.

  The Queen made daily trips to check on her son and had called for the return of his brothers. One day she had arrived to find him napping in a chair by the window and had drawn Luveday aside, back into her stillroom. “There is nothing I can give you that would be worth my son’s life, Lady Luveday…” Her beautiful hazel eyes shined with unshed tears. “Ask of the crown what you will. Anything you desire will be yours.”

  Luveday’s heart skipped a beat at such a gift, but her heart plummeted knowing that what she truly wanted was not in the Queen’s power to give. Being practical and rather optimistic, she cautioned the royal instead. “Thank you. Your generosity has been great, but I don’t think now is the time to celebrate.” May things were still on Luveday’s mind; many questions had been left unanswered. “The prince is improving daily, but there is still work left to do, and I have not yet found the cause of his illness.” The Queen’s eyes turned dark. “Without knowing the cause, I cannot say that this will never happen again, and the next time might be the last.”

  “You think the illness lurks nearby.” She looked w
eary and ready to go on the hunt.

  Back-tracking, the healer clarified. “I don’t say this to startle you. The fact that no one else had fallen ill is a heartening sign, but in my opinion, illnesses do not confine healthy boys to the sickbed without cause.” She looked at the Queen. “Despite what many say, it is not some divine punishment but has some earthly reason. The Creator has his hand in many things, just not in this.” She thought of her life in Anora thus far, had it all been leading up to this? She shook her head clear and focused on the boy. Symptoms, timing, contagions, nothing had fit in the gap of information she possessed. “I just have to find what it was.” Luveday was determined to find the out what had happened to Holden. The question had been plaguing her from the start.

  “Perhaps you are right.” The Queen glanced at the door where the prince lay beyond. “As long as the boy is out of danger, we will hold off celebrating for now.”

  “Until he can join us.” Luveday countered crossing her arms before her.

  A hopeful smile lightened her features. “Until Holden may join us.” The Queen squeezed her forearm much as Lady Jane would have done before returning to check on her sleeping son. Luveday watched her stroke a hair from the prince’s forehead without waking the boy. The Queen left as quietly as she came, and Luveday knew her time in the castle was nearing its end.

  What the future would hold, she could not even imagine.

  Days later the prince sat up in bed; young Benjamin sat near the foot of the bed with Henry and John curled up between their elder brother and Luveday. The story she was telling was interrupted as a servant appeared to deliver a message directly from the King, summoning Luveday to the royal presence. The children begged, but all Luveday could do was promise to finish the tale later, sleeping beauty would have to wait upon the King.