Page 22 of Duncan

He turned Nicole over on his lap, and unlaced the top of her gown. A jagged gash followed her spine from her neck to disappear under the remaining laces. The edges of the injury appeared raw and deep, as if she had been hurt only a few moments past, and yet only a little blood seeped from the wound. He also experienced none of the pain he always endured while treating the injured.

“How long has it been since she swooned?” he asked Caroline as he gathered Nicole up against him and stood.

“Maybe five, ten minutes at the most.” The diver followed him into the stronghold and up to the infirmary. “What can I do?”

“Close the door.” Duncan gently placed Nicole face-down on his exam table, drawing his dagger to cut the rest of her laces and expose her back to the waist. The gash looked raw and even uglier once fully revealed, but the only blood he saw simply stained her gown with some minor splotches. “Such an injury should have bled a great deal. How did you ken of my weakness?”

“Everyone knows, Healer. Your brothers haven’t said anything because you’ve tried so hard to hide it. They don’t want to wound your pride or something.” When he eyed her Caroline spread her hands. “What can I say? I believe in being honest, even when it hurts. That’s also how I got Nicole to admit who she really is, unlike you dumbass men.”

A low groan came from Nicole, who whispered, “Don’t call him that.”

“Stay still,” Duncan told her when she made to roll over. “I cut apart your gown, and I must still dress your wound. Do you suffer much pain?”

“Probably about as much as that horse did.” Nicole began to tremble as she turned her head to the side to look at him. “The same kind of transference happened to me when I removed a splinter from Lark’s hand this morning. Her wound vanished, and my finger hurt and bled a little. Oh.” She swallowed. “I think I’m having a nervous reaction, too.”

“The horse, ’twas frightened?” he asked the diver, who nodded. “You took from the beast more than its wounds, my lady.”

“Boy, and I thought my superpower sucked,” Caroline said, shaking her head.

“The wound on my finger disappeared about an hour later, so it looks like I also heal a lot faster than I used to.” Her eyes closed. “I think I’m going to pass out again, sorry.”

The door to the infirmary opened, and Connal came in, followed by Fletcher and Nyall.

“The watchers alerted us,” the laird said as he came to stand beside Duncan. After he surveyed Nicole’s wound his jaw tightened. “Who attacked her?”

“No one and nothing.” He hadn’t intended to snap at his eldest brother, but he wouldn’t apologize for it. “I need treat the lady now, my lord. I shall report on the event once she’s bandaged and out of pain.”

“I’ll brief them about what happened,” Caroline offered, and lead the men out.

Duncan focused on carefully cleaning the wound before applying the seaweed-based salve he used for such deep injuries. He had several vests lined with clean linen that he used to dress large wounds on the torso, and found one that covered Nicole’s gash. He could hear the voices of the diver and his brothers out in the hall, but paid no attention to what they said. Now and then he fumbled, and was obliged to stop until his hands ceased shaking.

“An injured horse can trample and kill a mortal in seconds,” he muttered to her. “No boon may protect you from such, either. What had you in mind? You cannae treat animals the same as people, you silly wench.”

Nicole made a low sound, as if she were trying to respond.

What plagued him was the manner in which she had been wounded, Duncan knew. Over the centuries he had treated many mortals injured by animals. Those least likely to survive their wounds were those trampled or kicked by horses. One plowman in particular had been brought to him with horrific blunt injuries to his head, limbs and torso; the moment Duncan had touched him he knew he would not survive the night. He had barred the door to the infirmary, and dosed the mortal with enough of his strongest sedative to keep him unconscious until his end came. Shortly after that the pain Duncan had absorbed from the vassal made him collapse.

By dawn he recovered, and went to check his patient, who had died in the night. Duncan never considered such ends merciful, for the druids had taught him to regard all life as precious. Yet if the man had survived he would likely be addled and crippled for the remainder of his days. When he left the infirmary to inform the laird of the mortal’s passing, he found Connal with the mortal’s wife and brother. The two vassals had also been injured while dragging the horse away from the plowman.

“Dinnae touch me, demon’s slave,” the plowman’s wife said, clutching her broken arm when Duncan took a step toward her. “Ye shallnae steal and devour my spirit.” She hobbled out of the great hall, leaving the echoes of her wrenching sobs in her wake.

“Forgive my sister, Maister,” the plowman’s brother said to Duncan as he wiped away the tears running down his face. “Anga follows the old ways. Among our tribe, only women chosen by the Gods may tend the sick and hurt.”

The ridiculous superstition should have faded over time, but the females who belonged to Anga’s bloodline continued to spurn Duncan and practice their supposed healing art, which was little more than charlatanism. Angalan, a direct descendant of the plowman’s widow, currently worked in the village and did almost as much harm as good with her mostly useless remedies. Over the last several months the woman had grown even bolder with her antagonism, forcing Duncan to avoid her whenever he went to look in on a villager.

A rush of air brushed him, and Shaw appeared on the other side of the table, startling him out of his thoughts.

The chieftain surveyed Nicole before he regarded him. “Shall she survive?”

“If the wound doesnae fester, aye.” He noted Shaw’s gray eyes looked almost black, which was never a good sign. “She wasnae attacked.” He repeated what Caroline had told him, and added, “It seems she heals by absorbing wounds and the distress they cause with a touch.”

“A wretched boon. Who should enjoy being hurt?” The chieftain’s dark expression eased. “Keep her here in the infirmary, and bid one of the guards sit with her when you must leave.”

He frowned. “A guard, and no’ a maid?”

“Caroline claimed she’s lied about her name, and Fletcher near wants her dead. Since she came I’ve sensed she’s hidden much from everyone as well,” Shaw told him. “Behind her easy smiles and understanding words she’s terrified—and I should ken, Healer.”

The chieftain had spent centuries hiding from the clan his fear of the murderous Pritani spirit that lived inside him, Duncan thought. “What more shall I do so I may reassure the lady?”