Chapter Seventeen
First thing thenext day, Moira entered the infirmary, her red hair contrasting the stone walls. The morning chill clung to her skin, but urgency propelled her forward. Inside, its occupants breathed softly.
Lucas lay feverish on a cot, his complexion pale and sweaty. Elspeth Sinclair sat beside him, her hands holding his in a silent plea for healing.
“Elspeth,” Moira whispered, resting a hand atop theirs. The older woman looked up with weary eyes.
“Moira,” she returned calmly.
“He’s strong,” Moira insisted. “He’ll pull through.”
Hope flickered in Elspeth’s eyes. Moira’s conviction wavered momentarily before she spoke again. “Excuse me for a moment.”
With as much as Lucas had helped them, and as wrong as she’d been to doubt his allegiance, she knew she must do whatever she could to make sure the infection that had set into Lucas’s wound didn’t harm him more than it already had. She knew the only answer was to seek out Brodie’s Grandfather Colin who would help her if she asked. At least she hoped he would.
She wouldn’t tell anyone what he was doing, and surely that wouldn’t break her promise to Brodie not to tell anyone about Colin’s healing powers.
With that, Moira left the room, her heart racing like a warhorse charging into battle. She carried the weight of herdecision as her ancestors had—with unwavering courage and determination to protect their kin at any cost.
Moira rushed through McAfee Keep’s corridors, seeking Brodie’s great-grandfather. She found him in the apothecary chamber, his gaze knowing and wise.
“Grandfather Colin,” she said firmly, “I need your aid. Lucas is gravely ill. We may lose him without your healing touch.”
The old man contemplated her request before agreeing. “For the bond between our clans and the peace it brings, I will do this.”
With relief, Moira ensured the infirmary would be cleared for his work. Elspeth and Ailis hesitated but ultimately left to eat. Alone with the patients, Moira sat by Lucas, waiting and hoping that Colin’s magic could heal where modern means failed.
The infirmary door creaked as Colin entered. Moira’s heart quickened, watching him move from one patient to another with practiced grace. “Just heal them enough to ensure no one will die,” Moira said, biting her lip. “We cannae risk yer secret getting out.”
Colin approached the sick, hands hovering above them as he focused all his energy on healing them. The air seemed charged with energy, prickling against Moira’s skin—a testament to his healing ability.
When Colin reached Lucas, Moira held her breath. His hand settled gently on Lucas’s forehead. After a moment of stillness, Lucas stirred and woke. Awake and lucid, he met Moira’s eyes.
After a quiet exchange between Moira and Colin, he departed the room with a nod. As the door closed behind him, the other women returned from their reprieve.
“Moira, what sorcery is this?” Ailis asked in disbelief, observing the now improved patients. “Everyone is better than when we left to eat!”
“Ye ken the old stories,” Moira replied confidently. “Sometimes spirits of the glen aid us.”
“Or perhaps ye are a miracle worker,” Ailis said, smiling despite her fatigue. “Whatever magic ye possess, ’tis a blessing.”
Moira didn’t want to take credit for Colin’s work, but she didn’t know how to explain what had happened otherwise. Surely it was better if her sister believed she’d healed them than if she knew the truth. Either way, she wouldn’t break her promise to Brodie.
*
Moira paced thestone corridor, the air cool and damp with the scent of pine. Her heart threatened to drown her thoughts.
She found Brodie in the courtyard, observing young warriors train. “Brodie!” she called, hiding her turmoil.
His deep brown eyes narrowed as he turned to face her. “Moira,” he acknowledged evenly. “What brings ye from the infirmary so hastily? Did we lose Lucas?”
“May we speak in private?” she asked, brushing back her red hair that glinted in sunlight.
Brodie dismissed the young men, and they stood under an ancient oak’s shadow. “Speak then,” he said once alone.
“I’ve sought yer Grandfather Colin’s aid to heal the wounded,” Moira began hesitantly.
Frowning, Brodie replied, “Ye’ve overstepped. Grandfather doesnae have energy to spare.” His words were measured but laced with anger.
