by Fiona Faris
“Aye. I could nae stand tae see a damsel so cold,” Logan replied, taking the cloak from her. He glanced briefly at her body again before shooting his eyes to the roof of the castle. Sophia had to stifle a giggle. She was not accustomed to being looked at in this way, especially not by the laird of the estate. Up until this moment, she barely had time to even consider marriage. Her father had always needed her, and without a truly great dowry, no one would want to marry her. But seeing Logan fight to look away from her body made her think perhaps she was someone men enjoyed looking at. It filled her with a new confidence.
“Well, I will be goin’ tae the kitchen for a tea now. Good night, Logan.” She turned away and walked down the long hall, forcing herself not to look back. With each step, Logan continued watching her.
The kitchen was one place Sophia knew well. She had taken moments to herself to slip off to there whenever they needed water, herbs, or clean linens. She was grateful she knew the location now, as she desperately needed a tea to calm her nerves. She hoped to sleep at least a few winks before the morning light reached the keep.
Once in the kitchen, it only took a few moments for Sophia to find the herbs she was looking for: the small flowers that made a beautiful tea fit for a restless mind. She set a cauldron of water to boil in the flame and sprinkled in the dried yellow blossoms. The air quickly filled with a hint of honey and sunshine. All she had to do was wait.
Sophia started thinking about the evening and her short walk with Logan. He had seemed so gentle and kind, a side of him she had not seen before that moment. There was a part of her that felt guilty for leaving Fanny’s room only to take a short stroll with the Laird, as if she had the time to do that when there were so many people who needed her and her healing.
But could anyone truly blame her? She had simply wanted to check to make sure her mare was alright. She had already been in the keep for days, but it wasn’t until that walk that she was actually given a minute to let her mind be free of all the loss and all the chaos and need around her. For a moment, she had been able to imagine a future for herself: living in the keep, working as Fanny’s apprentice…a chance to exist without the immense loss and guilt plaguing her. And Logan was so kind when he offered her his cloak. She wished she would have been more talkative, taken the time to know him, but she was exhausted.
The tea was ready, and Sophia poured it into a mug. She sat at the table in the kitchen and inhaled the scent. The aroma alone eased her mind and brought her flashes of memories. Moments with her mother came flooding in. It was a nightly ritual of theirs: sharing a tea before going to bed. The tea always brought her a smooth sleep with gentle dreams.
Sophia wished her mother was there with her. When her mother died, she had her father, but he was grieving as well. Now that she lost her father, she had no one around to help her move the pain, to understand it. She tried to search her head for the comforting words her mother had said to her so many times, but she found nothing. She carried the warm mug with the remainder of her tea back to Fanny’s room. She would hate for Fanny to take a moment to check on her, only to find that Sophia was gone.
Sophia drained the remainder of her tincture once she was back in the bedchamber. Between the herbs and the sheer weight of exhaustion, she soon found herself collapsing into bed. Her eyes closed immediately, and she drifted into sleep.
But it wasn’t to be a restful sleep. Her eyes moved back and forth rapidly as her breathing quickened.
In the dream, Sophia found herself in the great hall surrounded by patients. She moved between each one, assessing their injuries. But when she walked up to the nearest patient and expected to see burns, she found instead that the man was frail. He quivered with an illness that plagued him. His skin was ashen with an underlying green hue.
Sophia reached for him, but he pulled back from her. All around her were more patients. Who she originally thought were burn victims were those with a different ailment. What was plaguing them? Why couldn’t Sophia help them?
Chapter Nine
Logan returned from his long walk with Sophia and found himself more than distracted. It was a pure coincidence he ran in to her, but he was glad he had. Like her, he was having difficulty sleeping that night. As exhausted as he was, his body and mind trembled with the anxieties of the day. After so much chaos and change in such a short amount of time, he could hardly calm himself in the evening hours. He did not expect for things to go so well on that walk, and maybe it was only that Sophia wanted badly to be reunited with her mare, but Logan couldn’t help there was something more between them.
He sat on his bed and found he could not clear his mind of her, or her body. The night dress she was wearing was lacy thin, practically see through. When the breeze came through, he had to tear his stare away from her perky nipples beneath the fabric. It had been so long since those emotions overcame him. It was not that he didn’t find women attractive from time to time. He obviously recognized beauty when he saw it, but no one had caught his attention enough to arouse that much of a desire in him. Not in the ways he had thought about touching Sophia’s flesh with his calloused fingertips.
It wasn’t only her looks and her body that caught his attention. Logan could not help but think of that moment in the great hall when she had demanded he quiet his voice. She stood before him unshaken, prepared to let him know exactly how she felt about his tone and actions. She did not fear him in the same way so many others cowered before him now.
Her tone, her stance, the fact that she had stood up to him; it all stirred an even greater desire in him. Sophia was a woman who did not stop herself from saying what she needed to say. She would make a fine healer, and Logan was pleased to know she would be living in the castle for some time, even after the houses were to be built. He wished she had come under different circumstances, but he could not control the smile that spread across his face as he thought about running into her again—and in her shift.
For the first time in a long time, he did not feel the sorrow he once did when he looked at a woman. But that realization was also upsetting in his own way. What did it mean that his mind and his eyes chose to wander now to the body of this young maiden, and not the memories of his late wife?
He had had enough with his own scandalous distractions. He needed to focus his mind on other things. Instead, he forced himself to think about what he’d discovered before his walk with her. The reason he was pacing in the keep was because of the discovery he had made in the kitchen.
The amount of food was slowly dwindling. Feeding so many bodies in so few days was making a great dent in the estate’s stores. Now that summer was ending, it was important for the hunting parties he had sent off to return with enough meat to last while the farmhouses were being rebuilt. If they returned with little food, he did not have enough to keep feeding the displaced clan members for more than seven days or so at best. That included his own family.
He had the staff cut down the meat they put in the stews for the next few days while they awaited news from the hunters. Still, seeing how close they were to suffering as a clan definitely put a damper on the evening, and worried Logan immensely. He wished there was more he could do, but their only options were to follow through with what was discussed in the council meeting. Soon enough, some winter wheat would be planted, hogs would be caught, and what little harvest they had would be preserved as best as possible.
These fires had caused a great deal of distress. Logan thought back to Dillon’s threat, and he knew this was one method by which he was making his statements into truth. Dillon was testing Logan in a way, showing him just how easily he could fail as Laird of this estate. But Logan was not going to crumble in response to the fires. He would show his people who he could be. He would protect his estate and his family, even if it meant attacking Dillon. If the time came for it, he was not afraid to do what needed to be done.
What had Dillon hoped to do, anyways? To ruin the estate so badly that Logan would turn it over to him?
That was not going to happen. Logan’s people had once been strong supporters of him, regardless of whatever decisions he made, but now he had to wonder if they would continue to support him with the threat against the clan. With the whispers of a rebellion, would people turn away from him when he needed them most?
What if Logan was wrong about the fires? What if it was not Dillon at all, but simply random travelers who were jealous of not having an estate of his size? What if it was a clan from further away?
If Logan’s hunch was proven wrong, things could grow much worse. He could begin a true battle, all because of an issue of pride. Right now, it seemed the best idea they had was to keep a group of men guarding the borders at all times. Logan needed to be patient and wait for the next sign before he sprang to action. As much as he wanted to go to Dillon’s estate and take as much from them as those fires had stolen, he knew it might incite further action that could lead to an even greater loss. For now, he needed to focus on the recovery of the people, the recovery of the land, and the rebuilding of the homes. Only then would his people support him. Only then would they be able to stand strong against Dillon…should the time come.
Logan laid back in his bed. The sky was still dark, but it was the kind of dark that came just before the rise of the sun. He knew he only had a short while to rest before he had to rise and begin his days again. He closed his eyes and tried to dream, but found himself instead thinking of Sophia’s wildflower hair, her lichen eyes, and her soft and exposed flesh.
* * *
“Sophia, Sophia, ye must wake. Fanny an’ I need ye tae take over. We are near faintin’ from exhaustion.” Sophia woke to Gilbert’s grim face barely hovering above hers. She jumped up and pulled the quilt to cover her body. Gilbert looked at her as she did this and frowned.
“Dinnae worry, I am nae trying tae look at ye.” He shook his head and left the room, shouting behind him, “We will see ye in the kitchen.”
Sophia let out a few quick breaths and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Waking to Gilbert’s ashen face was not her most preferred method of being awoken. Still, she knew she must hurry and get to the kitchen. It was her turn.
She hoped that neither of them had seen her wandering the castle late last night with Logan, especially given the state of her dress. It was likely that if anyone had seen her, they would be talking about it in hushed whispers. She had not intended on leaving her room once she was dressed for bed, but with sleep refusing to greet her, she knew the only thing that would console her was leaving the room and going to see Moon. Running into Logan was a complete surprise, and something she still needed time to process. Last night, he had acted entirely different around her than he had in front of anyone else. Sophia found herself longing for another moment with him, another chance to get to know him in a new way. But for now there were patients who needed treating.
Sophia dressed herself in a simple dress and apron and left the bedchamber quickly. She went upstairs toward the kitchen to meet Gilbert and Fanny. They sat at the table, their heads slouched. The healers lifted spoons to their mouths very slowly, and barely managed to eat the grains in front of them.
“Rough night, aye?” Sophia asked as she walked up to the table.
“Aye, the man Clark, with the severe burn on his arm, grew vary fevered, started runnin’ through the castle, screamin’ for his mother.” Gilbert put a big chunk of bread in his mouth.
Fanny nodded in sympathy. “Poor lad. Musta been rough. We finally calmed him down and got him in tae cool waters. Many o’ the lads with the big burns are havin’ digestive troubles. These fires sure have brought on much pain.”
“Aye, that is true,” Sophia said. A kitchen staff member rushed over and set a bowl of grain and a cup of hot tea in front of her. Sophia, grateful, lifted the tea to her mouth and let the warm steam heat her face.
“We have more tae tell ya, Sophia.” Fanny’s face was heavy with grief. “We lost a man, the one who ye helped to bandage. He passed last night. Not from the wound aye, so dinnae doubt yerself, but his heart gave ou’. He lost a loved one in the flames, and after he began havin’ stomach problems, he passed suddenly.” Fanny reached over and placed her hand over Sophia’s.
Sophia could not help but feel responsible. Were the stomach problems a result of her bad healing skills? Could she have prevented this? Sophia felt her heart drop, and she thrust her face in her hands.
“I’m sorry, Fanny, I am so sorry.”
“Dinnae be, lassie; we cannae save them all.” Fanny pulled her hand back and went back to eating. Gilbert took the silence as an opportunity to continue telling her about the other patients. Many had started having minor stomach issues, which was common when dealing with so much strain and physical pain such as the burns.
“Ye need tae know there will be many people by tae see ye today,” Gilbert said. “Anyone who dinnae need help right away, we told tae come back in the morning. So be prepared to be dealing out herbs and tonics, changing linens, and cleaning blisters. Got it?” Gilbert asked.
“Aye, I ken,” Sophia responded.
“Now, if ye dinnae mind, I will be needin’ tae get some sleep, if we are going tae be helpin’ out any other folks tonight.” Fanny rose from her chair with her bowl and mug. She gave it to the kitchen staff and left the kitchen before Sophia could say another word.
“Now that we have done all the hard work, make sure ye help out all the people ye can, aye?” Gilbert also rose from the table.
Sophia was suddenly struck with guilt. Gilbert was right—they had spent all evening helping out the worst of the patients, all while Sophia went exploring the castle and stable with Logan.
No wonder she and Gilbert didn’t get along so well. He was having to work twice as hard as her. Sophia would not let this continue; she was going to make sure she helped as many people today as she could. She would not let Fanny or Gilbert down.
She looked at the bowl of pottage in front of her. She ate them as quickly as she could and made sure to drink all of the tea. If she was going to be spending hours healing people, she needed to make sure she was prepared and well fed. Despite them giving her the night off, Sophia barely slept a wink, and her strange dream still lingered on her like spider webs. She stood from the bench at the table and cleaned her dishes quickly; there was much work to be done. Before leaving the kitchen, Sophia walked over to the pantry and grabbed all the herbs she would need. She began boiling water with them, filled her buckets, and left, ready to take on the day.
Sophia walked down the long stone hall as she headed towards the great hall. Despite normally being a place for entertainment and large banquets, it had quickly become the point of chaos after the fires, and it continued to be now that she, Fanny, and Gilbert had lines of people waiting for them at all times.
By the time she arrived at the hall, there were already patients seated on each of the normally open benches. They jumped up when she walked in, but she avoided looking them in the eyes as she made her way to the corner where all the supplies were. Thankfully, Fanny and Gilbert had left out new lines of bandages and tallow ointments as well. She set down the herbal water, but she struggled to feel as ready and confident as she had the day before. The death of the man loomed over her, and though she knew these things were bound to happen, the guilt was still painful, especially in addition to all the other suffering she had faced lately. Still, she had patients to help, and she couldn’t mope now.
“Alright, I will be helpin’ all those with burns first, then blisters; then anyone with other issues is welcome to step up. If any of ye are bleeding, please step forward first. Ye ken?” Her voice echoed through the great hall as she gave her clear instructions. Sophia was not accustomed to being listened to so intently.
A woman stepped forward with a child who had a bandage around his arm. “My son had a bad burn, he seems tae be doin’ better, but needs a clean linen, as he keeps bleedin’ through this one.” Sophia lifted the boy and sat him on the table to get a better look
at the burn. The linen had red and yellow stains, so she could tell it was leaking badly.
“Aye, let us see what we can do here.” The boy sucked his thumb and avoided looking at Sophia. “I’m going tae help ye, wee one, alrigh’?” she spoke in a softer voice than she normally used for other patients. The boy nodded gently. She started to pull the linen away, but given how stuck it was, decided to soak it first.
Thankfully, with the herb water, the linen peeled away, and Sophia was happy to see that despite it being an open wound, the boy was healing nicely. She grabbed the tallow ointment and slid it over his wound as gently as she could. The boy winced, but stayed very still.
“Yer son will be alrigh’. The burn is healin’ fine. I put new ointment, but bring him back if he gets ill, aye?” she asked. The mother smiled wide and thanked her.
The next person who walked up was a woman about ten years Sophia’s senior. She had kind eyes and a gentle voice. “My leg was badly burned fetchin’ some things from me house before I left.” The woman lifted her skirt and showed Sophia the burn. Gilbert was right about these patients. They definitely weren’t the worst, and she was happy she could care for them easily so he and Fanny could get some rest.
