She drew an unsteady breath. “’Tis complicated.”
A frown worked his brow, and he leaned back. “I have time.”
Against the crackle of the fire, Alesone met the king’s eyes, found sincerity, patience, and intellect. Grisel’s dying words rolled through her. Though the healer had saved the Bruce, would his pledge given to her those many years ago override Alesone’s blood tie to his enemy?
As smoke curled from the flames, she explained how Grisel had taken her in as a child, gave a brief history over the years, and told him how two days earlier she’d returned to her home and found the woman who’d raised her beaten and dying. And how, with her last breath, Grisel had revealed those behind her attack.
Face solemn, the Bruce held her gaze. “What did she do to incite their outrage?”
Tears burned in Alesone’s throat as she struggled with the loss, with the knowledge that she’d never again see Grisel. “I found one of your knights wounded and hid him in our hut. Until Comyn’s men demanded entry, neither she nor I believed anyone was aware of his presence. Before they broke into her home, she helped your knight slip out through a secret passage. Loyal to you, she stalled the men while your knight escaped.” She paused, angled her chin. “Neither will I apologize for killing any of Comyn’s men.”
“Nor should you.” A frown deepened on his brow. “You are alone and on the run?”
“I am.”
“You travel to relations?”
“Nay.” Alesone damned the waver in her voice.
He arched a brow. “Friends?”
She shook her head. Hand trembling, she held out the ring. “Grisel Bucahn said to bring you this and you would offer me protection.”
Recognition flared in the king’s eyes, and his hands tightened on the arms of the chair. “God’s teeth.”
At the emotion in his voice, her own throat tightened. “I will never forget her.”
“Nor I,” he rasped. “She was a fine woman, one to whom I owed my life.” For a moment he studied her, and then gave a curt nod. “I will honor my promise to Grisel and offer you my protection. And your arrival is fortuitous. I am in need of a healer to care for me as well as my men, a position I offer you.”
Overwhelmed by his generosity, she nodded. “I thank you. ’Twould please me to serve you, Your Grace.”
“’Twill nae be easy,” the king cautioned. “Life on campaign is difficult at best.”
“I am well aware of the demands necessary and more than prepared for the task. In addition to my knowledge in the use of herbs, I am proficient with a bow and a dagger,” she said, proud of her skills, a proficiency that’d saved her life many times.
Satisfaction filled the king’s eyes. “Mistress Alesone, ’twould seem we have a bargain.”
Dread eroded her happiness. Though he’d offered her a position along with his protection, neither did he know of her own circumstance. Terrified of admitting her bond to his enemy, she refused to allow the truth to be unearthed later and be labeled a spy. “There is one more issue, Sire. I fear when you know of my lineage, you will withdraw your offer.”
Shrewd eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
“I am…or rather, my mother was…” Bedamned! “Lord Comyn is my father,” she breathed, nae wanting the guard at the entrance to hear.
A gust of wind battered the tent.
His mouth tightened, and a tremor slid through her.Please let him look past my heritage.
“You said as a newborn you were left with Grisel?”
Shame warmed her cheeks. “Aye. My mother was Lady MacNiven. While her husband was on Crusade, she went to Comyn’s bed. Upon learning she was with child, she went to Lord Comyn, admitted that she carried his child, and begged him to aid her. Instead, he cast her out. After she gave birth, she had her personal maid, Burunild MacCheine, bring me to Grisel. Then”—Alesone paused and inhaled, lifting her chin—“preferring death over a lifetime of shame, my mother threw herself from the cliffs. As I grew, my father, along with those in the castle, shunned me. Though I hold a blood tie to Comyn, I swear to you I loathe the very name.”
A cinder snapped within the dance of flames.
Face taut, the king exhaled. “My offer for you to serve as my healer remains. But”—the Bruce glanced toward the guard at the door, lowering his voice to a whisper as he turned back to her—“you must swear fealty to me, and never shall you disclose to those loyal to me your father’s identity. Nae all who serve me will be so tolerant.”
Thankful, she dropped to her knees. “Until my death, Your Grace, I swear my fealty, and I shall keep my blood tie a secret.”
The king laid his hand upon her shoulder. “Mistress Alesone, I welcome you.”
