by Arial Burnz
Veronique poured the entire contents of the tiny vial into the honey and used the wand to stir the potion about. Davina will not eat it all, she reasoned. Veronique grinned, very satisfied with the completed task. Putting the vial back into her smock, she replaced the small honey crock and turned toward the door. A shadow and bright light crossed the wall. Veronique froze. Shuffling steps sounded in the kitchen, and she shrank back into the pantry, trying to disappear into the darkness. Veronique’s heart pounded in her ears as the door opened and she ducked behind a barrel.
The silhouette of a female entered the pantry, a candle sitting on the kitchen table providing the bright light. Though the shadows hid the person’s face well, Veronique could just make out the features. She put her hand over her mouth to keep her fright in check. Davina! Several prayers rattled around inside the young Gypsy’s head. Davina grabbed her crock of honey and left Veronique undiscovered in the darkness. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief and almost collapsed on the floor. She waited a moment before peeking through the doorway. Davina sat at the table in the center of the kitchen and Veronique sat back in her hiding spot behind the barrel, biting her curved index finger to keep from screaming her frustrations. She would have to wait until Davina finished and went back to bed.
Sitting at the long prep table in the kitchen, Davina placed the crock before her and swirled the honey around with the wand, her chin in her hand as she watched the golden liquid glistening in the candlelight. “Oh, Kehr,” she sighed and closed her eyes.
She could almost see her brother sitting at the table beside her, his large frame leaning against her—shoulder to shoulder—resting on his elbows as he dipped his finger into the honey and pulled out a dripping mouthful. She chuckled. “You were always a glutton about eating our honey.”
“I am not!” he retorted.
Davina pursed her lips at her brother. “Aye, you are indeed!” She dipped a delicate finger into the crock and coated the tip with the sticky treat. “You don’t have to load your finger up with all the honey it can take. Just a taste, Kehr.”
Davina brought her finger to her mouth and touched her tongue before she closed her lips around her finger and let the honey melt into her mouth. She opened her eyes. This new batch of honey Seamus picked up yesterday tasted bitter. She would have to speak with him and find out from whom he’d purchased it. Had he changed beekeepers? She tried another sample, shrugged and continued eating. Aye, she would indeed need to speak with Seamus. She closed her eyes once more.
“See?” she continued her imagined conversation with her brother. Davina swirled the honey around, enjoying the smoothness on her tongue and the roof of her mouth. “Savor every drop of this nectar from the Gods.”
Kehr held his laughter back for as long as he could, and then burst into a mild fit. “‘Nectar of the Gods,’” he mocked. “Savor all you want. I’m gorging.” They giggled together in the darkness.
Davina opened her eyes to find herself alone again, the candle flame twirling its silent dance upon the wick, morphing the shadows around her, drawing her into its lazy movements. The flame glistened like a star through her tears, a half-hearted grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she continued eating the honey, choking back her grief.
* * * * *
“Sorry, lass,” Broderick said to the young woman sitting before him in the tent. He released her hand and smiled. “I cannot give you details. The lines do not reveal anything more than generalities.” She cast him a dreamy smile. This was the third trip the lass made into their tent to see Broderick, and though he didn’t normally read a palm more than once, twice at the maximum, they needed the funds. Nevertheless, she was there for more than mere fortune telling, and he didn’t feel right about making her part with her coin. When a long silence passed and she failed to get up from the table, Broderick leaned forward. “I cannot give you what you seek, lass. Run along now.” Her hand flew to her blushing cheek, her smile vanished from her face, and she dashed from the tent without depositing any donation. Broderick shook his head, feeling sorry for the girl.
Sighing, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, alone to ponder his fruitless search the night before. There were times when Broderick could sense Angus, certain he would pop out of the darkness from behind a building or tree or rock. Then the presence disappeared. No more tingling sensations in his midsection, no more hairs rising on the back of his neck. Nothing. He wanted to comb the land for his enemy, not sit here reading fortunes. Conversely, he didn’t want to leave the people he loved alone and vulnerable, so he stayed to protect them.
Mulling over the failure would do him no good. He turned his attention to other matters: His dreams. They were becoming more disturbing as the nights wore on. Frowning, he recalled the frantic images of Davina wasting away—her face gaunt and her gut cramping. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get near enough to help her; her cries for his assistance went unanswered. He wanted very much to check on Davina, but needed to focus his attention on Angus, and she was too delightful a distraction.
Making his way to the tent opening, he noticed Amice and Veronique sitting at the fireside. Flames performed a flitting dance in the pit as the women huddled near its warmth. The snow on the ground lay thick. The cold silence broke when hurried footsteps sounded in the camp.
Rosselyn stumbled up to them. “Amice, we need your help! Davina is ill.” Her bottom lip quivered. “We fear she may die!”
Broderick’s heart battered in his chest, and Amice stood. “What are her signs?” she asked.
“She has complained her stomach and throat hurt. She has been very thirsty, but taking anything has been difficult for her to swallow. And she has terrible diarrhea.”
“How long has she been like this?”
“All day,” Rosselyn supplied.
“Veronique, fetch my basket,” Amice ordered. Veronique ran to the caravan and emerged with the basket in hand and concern in her eyes. Amice took the basket, squeezed her granddaughter’s hand in thanks and turned to Broderick. Amice stopped. Her brows raised and suspicion in her eyes, she grabbed Veronique’s hand again. This time, Veronique made a desperate attempt to loose herself from her grandmother’s probing grasp.
“What have you done, child?” she demanded in French.
Veronique stared at Amice in shock, her hand upon her breast. “Me?”
“Do not lie to me, child!” she reprimanded. Amice squeezed her granddaughter’s wrist, causing her to wince. “You know I can sense what you have done!”
“Then you can divine what I gave her!” Veronique snapped back.
Amice slapped her face. “Tell me! And I want to know why!”
Veronique gasped, but would say nothing. Amice considered Broderick.
He nodded and stepped forward. Veronique wrestled to get away, but she was no match for his speed or strength. He held her by the shoulders and hugged her to his chest. She stopped struggling. “She put a vial of autumn crocus in Davina’s honey jar,” Broderick supplied, speaking in French so Rosselyn wouldn’t understand.
Amice gasped. “The entire vial?”
Broderick nodded and Amice wailed. Veronique jutted her chin out, pushing away from Broderick. “She will be well! She will be bedridden until we leave, but she will fare well enough!”
“You foolish child! You may have killed her!”
Veronique crossed her arms in defiance and glanced at Broderick. He turned away, too afraid he would do something regretful. Broderick went to the back of the wagon, grabbed one of the horses and swung onto its back. “Rosselyn, get Nicabar to escort you back to the castle.”
She nodded, but eyed Veronique with venom in her eyes.
“Go,” Broderick encouraged, waving his hand. “I will deal with Veronique later.”
Rosselyn reluctantly withdrew and went to Nicabar’s wagon.
Securing her basket of herbal remedies, Amice mounted in front of Broderick with his help. In minutes, they stormed through the front gates of
the castle. A small team of servants led them to Davina’s chamber. Davina’s pitiful figure lay pale, almost shriveled amongst the bedclothes. When Amice appraised Davina, she whirled toward the people in the room. “Sortez! Out of the room, everyone! And I want hot water at once!”
“But I want to be with her!” Lilias protested.
“If you want your daughter to live, you must leave!”
“Tammus?” Lilias pleaded.
The tall man put a comforting arm around Lilias and urged her along. Reluctantly, she nodded and did as Amice ordered, ushering Myrna out before her. When the doors closed, Amice faced Broderick, already standing at Davina’s side and holding her hand. He gasped when he touched the weakness of her pulse.
Amice placed her hand upon his shoulder. “Come, help me with my herbs.”
Broderick nodded and left Davina’s side to stand by Amice, awaiting her instruction.
She will not live without your help, my son, she said mentally. We must act now.
A knock came at the door, and Amice took the offered kettle of hot water to the table by the double doors. Broderick closed the door against the protests, giving them their privacy.
Turning her back to Davina, Amice pulled out chamomile blossoms and other sleeping agents, produced a small cup from her basket, sprinkled the herbs into the cup, and poured hot water over the medicine. She held the cup for Broderick. He brought forth Davina’s knife from his sporran and cut open his wrist, letting a small measure of his healing blood pour into the cup. Uncharacteristically, the cut burned and Broderick hissed at the pain. Though the cut healed from the blade, it healed slower than usual and left a thin scar. Only one thing could scar him. Amice stared at him with question and worry in her eyes. He regarded the inlaid designs on the blade. “Silver,” he whispered.
Amice’s brow creased with concern, but she handed the cup to Broderick while she shuffled toward the heavy curtains and pushed through the double doors to the terrace. Her hands filled with a small amount of clean snow, she put some into the cup to cool the scalding water. Tossing the rest of the unused snow out the door, Amice grabbed the cup from Broderick and went to Davina’s bedside.
“Come, child,” she said, encouraging Davina to sit up. Davina’s eyes opened to slits and she tried to smile at Amice. “Drink this, chérie.” Amice held the warm cup to her lips and helped Davina sip the brew. “Drink it all, Davina.”
Broderick watched and expelled a deep sigh of relief. She would be all right.
After Davina finished the tea, Amice went about making her more—this time, without Broderick’s blood.
Broderick could see Davina’s color already returning, and she opened her sapphire eyes. He sat at her side, holding her hand, and noticed a stronger pulse.
“How amazing. I already feel better,” she whispered and squeezed his hand. Amice appeared at the opposite side of her. “What is that wonderful tea you made?” Davina asked. “I can feel the brew working its magic inside me this very moment.”
Amice glanced at Broderick. With a slight shake of his head, he silently asked Amice not to reveal the healing source. Amice nodded. “A cup of chamomile tea and a special, secret ingredient, chérie.” She gave Davina the second cup of tea and shuffled to the door. “I will let them know you are well, and we will have some food brought up to you. You will need your strength back,” she said, bowing out and leaving them alone.
“I no longer feel pain in my stomach or throat,” she said, her voice very much improved.
“Then Amice has done her job well. I’m glad.” Broderick kissed her hand and she smiled.
When a soft knock sounded at the door, Broderick stood and commanded the party to enter, Amice in tow. Lilias rushed to Davina’s side. “Thank our Lord, you look better already!” She held her daughter in a tight embrace, and Broderick could feel the relief emanating off Lilias. “Amice is a miracle worker!” She turned to Broderick. “Thank you so much, Master Gypsy. Thank you, Amice. You have both been sent from heaven!”
To Broderick’s shock, he blushed and rolled his eyes. If she only knew. He risked a secret smile in Amice’s direction, and she winked at him.
Lilias called through the door, “Myrna, you may bring Cailin in. Davina is well!”
A large woman with a faint resemblance to Rosselyn waddled through the door, holding a tawny-haired infant with sapphire eyes that locked on to Broderick. The air stilled a moment and Broderick could hear nothing else in the room. Cailin’s cherub face sparkled with wonder as she stared at him. A twitter of giggles poured from her like bells, and Broderick swallowed the lump forming in his throat.
“Well, Master Gypsy,” Myrna said, grinning. “She seems to fancy you!”
The scene refocused, and he witnessed the many faces cast in his direction. Broderick took two steps toward Cailin, and she fairly launched into his arms, much to the surprise of everyone in the room, especially his.
“I’ve never seen the like!” Lilias exclaimed. She and Davina exchanges astonished glances.
“Nor have I,” she whispered, and a smile formed on Davina’s lips.
Broderick struggled to keep the tears at bay with Cailin in his arms, her little hands touching his face and pulling at his lips, to everyone’s amusement. How much time had passed since he held a babe in his arms? His nieces and nephews were the last, over three decades ago. Broderick never allowed himself to get this close to something he couldn’t have. A warmth wept over his heart and spread across his chest, threatening to envelop his soul. He breathed in Cailin’s scent, and fought another lump forming in his throat at the sheer joy of holding her and sharing her essence.
He winked at Davina while Cailin tugged his bottom lip down to his chin, causing Davina to cover her mouth and stifle a laugh. He chuckled, turned to Cailin, and blew a puff of air at her, which caused her to hide her face in his chest, laughing. Broderick savored the warmth of her affections.
After a period of everyone fussing over Davina, who showed improvement every moment, Amice insisted they should leave Davina to rest. They all filed toward the door to exit, and Myrna came forward to take Cailin. Broderick kissed the top of her head, and all, save Broderick, left the room. Lilias lingered at the door, frowning at Broderick, and then Davina.
“‘Tis all right, M’ma,” Davina assured her.
Eying them both with caution, Lilias exited the room, closing the door behind her, but not before giving Broderick a warning glance, as if to say, “Behave yourself, Gypsy.” He hid his smile until she left.
Davina turned her eyes to him. Aye, she did fare much better in just the short amount of time since she drank the tea. One more sigh of relief escaped Broderick’s mouth.
“She has always worried so over me,” she said, the raspy grate gone from her voice. Davina seemed to notice, too. Her hand went to her throat and she visibly swallowed. “Amazing.”
“Aye, Amice is quite the miracle worker.” This time stretching his body beside her, he held her hand in his as he propped onto his elbow.
“I’ve never seen Cailin behave in such a way,” she said and smiled. “It seems you have that effect on women.”
“Nay, just bonnie redheads,” he said and pulled her in to taste her lips. Though he longed for more, he withdrew. “You need your rest, and the food should be coming soon.” He stood and leaned against one of the canopy columns. They stared at each other for quite some time, Broderick studying her features. How can she be more beautiful than the previous day? His gut twisted at what Davina did to him…to his heart…and how deadly that would be for her. He had to ensure her safety. “I will leave you to rest now.”
Davina smiled and nodded.
“Goodnight, Mistress Davina.” Bowing, he exited the room by the chamber door and almost ran into Lilias, waiting in the hallway. He was glad he didn’t leave by way of the terrace. Lilias would have questioned Davina about his exit, raising suspicion about other ways into her chamber. He raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Greetings,
Mistress Lilias. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting overmuch.”
She matched his stance, crossing her arms. “Too long for my taste, Master Gypsy.” They stared at each other for a lengthy stretch of uncomfortable moments. “I hope you have good intentions for my daughter, Gypsy. She has had enough grief and loss in her life. Do not burden her heart with more.”
Broderick cringed inside and nodded. “Point well taken, milady.” With a curt bow, he left through the front door.
Scanning the area to be sure the way was clear, Broderick kept to the shadows and worked his way to the back of the castle. He listened at the kitchen doorway. No sounds, so he slipped inside. Distant voices lingered through the halls, indicating something else occupied the staff for the moment. He nosed around the room, using the memories he gleaned from Veronique to find his way to the pantry. There on the shelf sat Davina’s labeled honey jar. Broderick lifted the lid and sniffed. The bitter aroma mixed in with the honey sweetness made him crinkle his sensitive nose.
Alert to any noise through the halls, he waited for any movement or sounds signifying people milling about. Silence. He stalked over to one of the side tables. Broderick cleansed and rinsed the jar in what appeared to be remnants of the dish water from this evening’s meal. With the jar bathed and dried, he replaced it on the pantry shelf. Now to catch up with Amice.
