Niall stepped forward, his gaze firm and his stance clearly protective of Ana. “Not everyone can be saved. That is God’s will, not the healer’s.”
“Step aside and let Ana do what she must,” Aiden ordered his brother.
“If anyone needs to step aside, it’s you,” Niall responded, remaining at Ana’s side.
“Cease, both of you,” said the healer. To Aiden, she added. “Clear the inner close, and I’ll do everything I can to save her.”
It was an easy enough request to fulfill. Aiden barked an order to all those hovering in the close, and a few moments later, the courtyard was empty... save for Niall, Ana, Aiden, and Isabail.
“You must leave too,” Ana told Aiden.
“Nay.”
Niall grabbed his sleeve. “Come, brother. Let us leave her to her work.”
Yanking his arm free, Aiden cut his brother a cold stare. He’d left Isabail alone, locked in the tomb for hours. He was not about to leave her now. “I said nay.”
Niall and Ana exchanged glances.
“Go ahead,” Niall encouraged.
Ana shook her head.
“All will be well,” Niall said. “You’ve nothing to fear.”
She glanced at Aiden and snorted. “He is full of anger and hate. I have everything to fear.”
“Enough blather,” Aiden said, his gaze falling to Isabail’s pallid face. “If she dies while you debate who stays near the fire, I swear I will run you both through. Heal. Her.”
“This is on you,” Ana said darkly to Niall.
She dropped to her knees and rolled up her sleeves. “I need a bucket of cold water and uninterrupted silence.”
Niall fetched the water and placed the bucket next to her. He gave Ana’s shoulder a quick squeeze before crossing to stand at Aiden’s side.
It would have been a comfort to have him there if his brother’s hand hadn’t been firmly positioned on the hilt of his sword. Apparently, his brother was prepared to take a stand between him and the healer.
The redhead rubbed her hands together, then placed one of them on either side of Isabail’s head. Bowing her head, she appeared to be praying.
Aiden had no issue with an appeal to God for help. For centuries, his family had honored both the pagan gods of his ancestors and the Christian God preached by Saint Columba. But as Ana remained silent and still for painfully long moments, making no effort to bleed Isabail or create a healing poultice, he grew impatient.
“Hold,” Niall whispered. “Look at her arms.”
Aiden’s gaze slipped to Isabail’s arms, but the sleeves of her gown hid them from view. Then he noticed Ana’s arms.
“Sweet Danu.”
A ruddy pattern of swirls and dots was growing like a mystical vine down both of Ana’s arms. Aiden had never seen anything like it, and as the vines crept over the backs of her hands, reaching her fingers, he took a step forward. They would soon be touching Isabail’s flesh.
Niall’s hand flattened against his chest, staying further movement. “Have faith.”
It took all of Aiden’s willpower to resist the urge to throw off Niall’s hand. His heart pounded in his chest with a fear like he’d never known before. But he trusted Niall. And he desperately needed Isabail to awaken.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, he subsided and allowed Ana to work her magic. And itwasclearly magic. But if this was what it took to bring Isabail back from the brink of death, so be it.
Ana removed one hand from Isabail’s face and sank it into the bucket of water. A few minutes later, she switched hands. A wince flickered across her face, and she began to shiver uncontrollably.
Niall tensed.
