Right.Aye. Just doing my duty.
I hurried to the kitchens, prepared to do what I could to help in the running of Tarbert Keep. As I always had.
With the big celebration only a few days away, and Father inviting important allies, there was much to be done. The cooking had already begun, and the kitchens smelled of cloves and spices and honey. ‘Twas my responsibility to see the Great Hall cleaned, and I tied my hair up in a kerchiefbefore throwing myself into the work, hoping that laying new rushes would help distract me from thoughts of the beast in the dungeon.
My foot and leg ached by the time I straightened from my task, and I limped terribly. But the scheme had worked; the time had passed quickly instead of crawling by, and now ‘twas time to take my tray to the dungeon once more.
I shuffled to the kitchens to choose my offerings.
This time, there were two guards in the dungeon, and I was pleased I’d planned for such an eventuality.
“Hello, good sirs,” I murmured, my attention on the uneven stones of the steps. “I have brought you something to tide yourselves over until supper.”
The younger guard jumped to help, and I gestured toward the large meat pie I’d smuggled from the kitchens.
“’Tis for you to share,” I whispered, pretending shyness, tilting the tray slightly so the covered bowl next to the pie was less obvious. “The tea and broth are for the prisoner.”
“Aye, we heard,” the younger man drawled, his focus on the hot pie he passed from hand to hand to keep from burning himself. “You’re fixing him up enough so your father can gift him to the Battleborn, eh?”
Gift? I didn’t know what he was speaking of, but I made a little noise of agreement, hoping he’d think me knowledgeable.
“Father says I am to heal him well enough to stand.”
The older guard had joined us and was eyeing the meat pie eagerly. “As long as ‘tis no more than that, milady. We can’t afford the bastard—excuse my language—can’t afford tohave him back up to full strength again. It took eight of us to fell him last time, and he was already weak then.”
Oh my.
Hoping I looked sufficiently cowed with my wide-eyed expression of surprise—real, not feigned—I limped toward the cell door. The older guard unlocked it and, as yesterday, moved with his companion to the bench around the corner, settling in to enjoy the treat.
Gift?
Kragorn knelt as I’d left him, his hands manacled above his head, his shoulders and head slumped in defeat. For a moment, panic set in before I saw his chest slowly expand with a breath. He lived, and the blanket and bandages were still in place.
Please, God, keep him alive. Make him well again.
I shuffled forward, feeling guilty for praying for such a creature, one not of my world, one who spoke reverently of hisowngods. But how could I help but worry about him? How could I help but admire his strength and resilience, and hope my efforts weren’t in vain?
For certes, that was the only reason I prayed. Aye?
There was a little pile of snow beneath the high window, and I shivered at the way my breath fogged the air. Kragorn must be strong indeed to live through such a winter…and so much pain.
When I reached him, I squatted to place the tray by his knee, wincing as I did so. When I coddled my foot, it meant my knee and thigh ended up hurting more by the end of the day, and today was no exception. Still, I couldwrap it in a hot towel tonight, and that would be good enough. For now I had to focus on my task.
The task I’d been thinking about since I woke.
Since before then.
Touching Kragorn.
I was reaching for the pot of yarrow tea when he spoke, his head still drooped between his shoulders, startling me.
“Yer limp is worse today.”
Was that accusation in his tone? I shrugged. I hadn’tthoughthe’d looked at me. How had he known, then? I focused on pouring the tea.
“I have been working hard today, making the floors shine. Hogmanay is a time for new beginnings, you know, and the keep must be cleaned top to bottom.”
“And ye…” Finally, his head rose, his ruined eye still hidden by the bandage I’d applied yesterday—when he’d licked me. His other eye, however, shone with something I couldn’t identify, that spark of green gleaming from the center of the blackness.
