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He groaned in frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. Being numb had allowed for clarity. It was what made him a superior warrior. How could one woman destroy that?
“Witch,” he whispered, and yet he doubted.
He needed to stop tormenting himself, stop arguing with himself, and follow through with his plan, except the ending would need changing. How he did not know, but he would figure it out.
He needed to numb himself as he had always done, then clarity would return to him, and a decision would come easy.
Kissing her comes easy.
The unexpected thought had him raking his fingers through his hair again. How did he stop himself from kissing her when he wanted more than kisses from her?
Varrick stopped abruptly. What if he did not deny himself? What if he pursued his desire? What if he coupled with her? Had he allowed her to cast doubt on his strength? On his own wisdom? He would command the coupling, not her. He would satisfy his need and show her that he was in control and that no magic, no spellbinding, would ever claim victory over him.
He glared at the flames in the hearth, and they seemed to shrink away. He would command the witch and have her do his bidding.
He returned to bed, determined to see it done.
* * *
Fia lether glance drift casually around the Great Hall the next morning as she ate. Something was amiss or was she imagining things, though that wasn’t likely. The odd glances, the shifting away of eyes when hers fell on someone, the whispers among the servants. Tongues had been gossiping, obviously about her, but why?
She had not seen her husband since she had woken an hour or so ago and when she entered the Great Hall it was to discover that Varrick had left orders that she was to remain in the keep until he returned for her.
She did not know what had taken him away or where he had gone, and no one offered an explanation. She ignored the strange glances and allowed herself to drift in her thoughts. While she found herself caring for her husband, something she never would have thought possible, she also had to be wise about her situation. He had accepted her bargain that if her skills settled the clan’s problem then she would gain her freedom. Their marriage would end, and she would be free to leave. Where once the thought had given her hope, she now questioned it. Still, she would be wise to follow through with it.
The incident in the woods was another thing that continued to occupy her mind, leaving her with endless questions. One was about the two packs of hounds. According to the tales, the god of Death had white hounds and when their howls were heard the wild hounds had grown frightened and left. But were they wild hounds or did they belong to someone? And what of the white hounds? Some nobles were known to own white dogs, thinking them more vicious and frightening than other dogs. Varrick referenced one such noble, Lord Walter. Could he be involved in using the hounds against Varrick?
A cry of pain yanked Fia out of her musing to see servants gathered around Berta, one of the young servant lasses. She went to the group, reaching it just after Merry did.
“What happened?” Fia asked and the group immediately stepped aside.
“A burn, nothing more,” Merry said. “A dab of sheep fat will fix it well enough.”
“Honey would do much better to heal it and ease the pain,” Fia advised. “And do not wrap it, let a thick coating of honey serve as the bandage, and keep the burn area clean. If a blister should form leave it be, it will see to itself.”
“We do as Lady Fia says,” Merry said and Berta appeared relieved with her decision.
“Cleanse it first with cool water, then apply the honey,” Fia said, anxious to see the wound treated correctly, and she quickly suggested, “I could see to the wound for you if you would permit.”
Berta stretched her wounded hand out to Fia. “I would be grateful for your help, my lady.”
Fia heard a few of the mixed whispers from those nearby, some in agreement with Berta and others warning against the witch’s help before Merry put a silence to them.
“Back to work with the lot of you. Now!” Merry called out.
The servants turned away, returning to their chores but continuing to mumble.
“I will bring you what you need,” Merry said and summoned one of the servants to help her.
It was not long before Fia was doing what she enjoyed most… healing.
* * *
Varrick had woken earlywith thoughts of his warriors. With Brock having disobeyed orders it made him think what trouble that could bring. His warriors always obeyed without question—they trusted his leadership. That one warrior doubted him could easily spread to others and that he would not tolerate.
He had gathered his warriors together in an area just beyond the castle walls. They stood in a circle surrounding him and he could see doubt lingering in a few of their eyes while others looked ready to follow his command without question.
He took his cloak off, though the early morning air nipped at the flesh, and tossed it to Argus. He kept his voice strong, his tone commanding. “We have fought many battles together and have been victorious.” A cheer went up and he waited for it to settle before he continued. “We fought those battles as one in mind and strength. Anyone who is not of that one mind and strength, anyone who doubts my leadership step forward and challenge me here and now, for I will not tolerate another warrior disobeying my orders.”
