Once the red haze had faded, Brendan glanced down at the wound. His heart sank. While some of the blood and dirt had been washed away, some still remained. And when it came to bloody injuries, the first few hours were crucial. Allowing the wound to sit could let infection set in.
He grabbed a piece of gauze, intending to dab at the wound, but the blood loss, exhaustion, and pain was too much, overwhelming him.
He knew he was going to faint in the instant before darkness claimed him, and so Brendan took the liberty of lowering himself to the ground before he could hit it at full force. Argentum, thinking that they were playing, frisked over to him, barking and jumping, diving on him and licking his face.
Brendan smiled faintly at his frisking dog, raising a shaky hand to pat his head.
“If I die here, and nobody ever knows,” he mumbled, “I reckon ye would eat me, wouldn’t ye?”
Argentum tilted his head, not understanding.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Brendan admitted. “At least I’d be good for something in the end.”
And then that was it. Darkness closed in, and he knew no more. That last thought in Brendan’s conscious mind was a name, ringing out clear as day.
Freya.
Chapter 10
A Secret Shared
Two Days Later…
“This is ridiculous,” Freya huffed, sweat dripping off the end of her nose. “Am I expected to believe that ye scrub the floors like thiseveryweek?”
Kyla, who was scrubbing on the other side of the dining room, bit back a chuckle.
“Don’t make it too obvious you’ve never cleaned up after yourself, princess.”
Freya flushed. “I amnota princess.”
“What would ye call a laird’s daughter, then?”
Freya sat back on her heels, shaking out her aching hands. “They used to call melady.”
It hadn’t been a surprise to hear that she would be assigned chores. After all, it was only fair. Senga explained that all able-bodied folks staying at the convent were expected to help out, although none worked as hard as the nuns themselves. However, Freya had assumed she’d be floating around the gardens, or welcoming newcomers, or perhaps daintily setting a table.
Notscrubbing.
She begrudgingly admitted, however, when she glanced back over the section of the floor she’d just cleaned, that itdidlook pleasantly shiny and clean. A flicker of pride flared inside her.
“Mind ye,” Kyla responded casually, “the lassies who do the scrubbing are generally the ones in disgrace.”
Freya flicked a handful of soapy water at her. Kyla ducked, yelping and laughing.
“May I remind ye thatyeare scrubbing alongside me?”
“Oh, aye,” Kyla agreed comfortably, kneeling down on the padded floor pad again and picking up her scrubbing brush. “I was responsible for ye, and so I am in disgrace, too. I shouldn’t have let go off alone.”
“But it’s not yer fault I went off.”
Kyla shrugged. “I was responsible.”
“That’s not fair.”
Kyla paused, glancing over at her. “Ye care a lot about fair and unfair.”
“Well, of course I do.”
