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The servant looked surprised but responded, “Shea, my lady.”
“Thank you again, Shea,” Tavia said.
“Fetch the brew, Shea, now!”
The servant jumped at Marta’s commanding tone and hurried off.
“The servants are not thanked for doing their chores,” Marta reprimanded.
“Perhaps you do not thank them, but I do,” Tavia said and let loose with a command of her own before she could stop herself. “Never reprimand me again, Marta.”
Marta stared at her a moment, then sneered as she went to speak.
“Is there anything else you wish to say, Marta?” Tavia snapped, a warning of sorts that she would brook no argument from her.
Of course, the familiar churn of her stomach after speaking up before giving it much thought and wondering too late if she overstepped her bounds took hold. But then she was not the servant, Marta was, and not only did she need to remember that, but Marta did as well.
“You should rest your leg before supper tonight, my lady,” Marta said, keeping her hands clasped snug in front of her.
Tavia did not know if she and the woman would ever get along, but she did not want an unbearable situation born of an already uneasy one. It would make life in the keep far too unpleasant. So, she chose to speak kindly to her as she had to Shea.
“Thank you for thinking of my leg, Marta. I will let you know what I decide to do.”
Marta bobbed her head and took her leave.
Tavia was almost finished with the brew when a few servants hurried through the Great Hall, worry on their faces, and out of the keep.
A few minutes later, Marta followed after them.
“What’s wrong, Marta?” Tavia asked when she saw the woman had no intentions of stopping and alerting her to a possible problem.
“A hunting accident,” Marta said.
Tavia got to her feet. “My husband?”
“It is not known yet. One returned before the others so the healer will be prepared to tend the injured.”
Tavia grabbed her cloak.
“You should wait here,” Marta advised.
“Why? My husband could be hurt,” Tavia said, swinging her cloak over her shoulders.
“Precisely, he could be the one hurt and we do not know how badly,” she said.
“All the more reason for me to be there when he returns,” Tavia said and preceded the woman out of the keep.
With having rested her leg, she was able to walk through the village without difficulty. A light snow was falling, and she followed along with others, stopping abruptly when an agonizing scream ripped through the air.
Tavia could not help but pale, fearing it was her husband who had fallen to a severe accident.
“It is not Lord Bhric. He would never scream like that no matter how bad the pain,” Marta said.
A shiver ran through Tavia at the thought of such strength. She had not been that strong when she had suffered her leg injury. The pain had been unbearable, and she had not been able to hold back her screams.
Tavia cringed, the screams growing louder as she drew closer. She was relieved to see her husband standing to the side with some of his men. It was then she noticed that those of the Clan MacShane stood by a man on the ground.
“Wild boar got him,” she heard someone say.
