Supper in the hall was its own education.
She sat where Eidith directed her, between Mairi and Donal, the grey-bearded clansman who'd acknowledged her that first morning with a nod and nothing more.
Anthony sat at the head of the table. He didn't perform the role. He simply occupied it, eating, listening, speaking when required. Fergus leaned over occasionally with something that needed a decision and got one, quickly, and that was that.
He didn't look at her.
She didn't look at him.
This took more effort than it should have.
Donal spoke mid-meal without preamble. "The boy's breathin' settled this mornin'."
"Aye," she said. "The treatment is holdin'."
"His mother had weak lungs," he said, quieter. Not broadcasting it, offering it, the way a man offered information he'd been deciding whether to share. "Before the fire. Nae many folk remember that."
She looked at him. "That's useful to ken. How long before the fire?"
"Since she was a girl, by all accounts. Married into the clan and never said much about it." He took a drink. "Anthony's mother noticed. She kept a close eye on the bairn from the start."
"Did she?"
"Aye." He said nothing more for a moment. Then, "The old healer, the one who died this winter, she knew it too. She managed it careful. Ye seem to be managin' it the same way."
It was, she understood, as close to approval as Donal was going to give. She took it for what it was.
"Thank ye," she said.
He returned to his meal as if the conversation had never happened.
Mairi leaned close from the other side. "Donal hasnae spoken at this table in years," she murmured, impressed. "That was practically a declaration."
"He gave me information. That's worth more."
Mairi looked at her with frank admiration. "Ye're very strange," she said. "I mean that kindly."
From the far end of the table Anthony was staring at his cup. She felt his gaze lift to her twice. She didn't meet it either time. She was not giving that ground away for free.
The night crisis came without warning.
She'd been back at his bedside an hour when his breathing changed. Not gradually, suddenly, one moment steady and the next thin and high and wrong.
The wheeze filled the room before she'd fully stood.
"Mairi." Calm, direct. "Hot water from the kitchen. Now, daenae run."
She was already at her satchel when Anthony came through the door.
He arrived the way she imagined he arrived at everything. Already alert, already taking stock, nothing wasted.
He swept the room once. Landed on James. Something moved behind his eyes that he locked down immediately.
He stepped forward.
"Stand back," she said.
He stopped. She felt the room hold its breath.
