Page 40 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)
The tight bandaging covering Grace’s face grew spotted with tiny patches of bright red where her wounds bled.
Ben had been obliged to wrap all of her fingers, some of which appeared charred to the bone.
Farlan knew from a few past accidents with their vassals that if they were too badly damaged they would have scars or never function normally again.
He had spoken the truth when he’d told her he didn’t care what she looked like, but she faced an eternity with the consequences of sacrificing herself to save her grandmother.
“Mayhap I’ll have a chance with Seneschal, for his lover, she’s no’ beautiful anymore,” he heard one of the maids mutter.
Farlan shot to his feet, and turned around in time to see Olivia punch Una in the face, knocking her to the ground.
“You spiteful little witch.” The petite brunette stood over the maid, her expression filled with a terrible rage. “I’ll beat the snot out of you all day every day for the rest of eternity, and then we’ll see if any man wants you.”
“There a line for that, Liv?” Ava asked as she came to stand beside Alec’s wife. “If so, I’ll take seconds.”
Alec came over and folded his arms. “Count me as third—or permit me to go first. I ken much of how to beat someone near to death.”
Gods, but I love my family. Tears came to Farlan’s eyes, and he blinked them away quickly.
Una scrambled to her feet, dropping into a wobbly curtsey. “Forgive me, War Master, my ladies. I ken I shouldnae speak so cruelly about poor Mistress Johansen.” She glanced over at Farlan, and then ducked her head. “’Twas but a thought of the moment.”
“Yet you still ran your mouth where Grace could hear you.” Olivia pointed toward the nearest arch. “Get out of here, and unless you want another beating, stay out of my sight.”
“You can go work and sleep in the stables until I tell you otherwise,” Ava put in. “If you’re a good girl, maybe around Christmas.”
The maid fled, and both women eyed each other with grim satisfaction. Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Are you running a fever?”
Ava quickly swiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Apparently a higher than normal body temperature is the backlash for breaking spells. It’s coming back to normal though.”
“I dinnae ken why the laird keeps me as the clan’s War Master,” Alec said to the ceiling. “For our wives do a finer job of it than I should ever manage.”
“You’re here to keep me happy,” Olivia chided as she came over and tucked her arm through his. “You have to come with me later, sir, because I’ll need some of that after we finish helping Ben.”
“Where is my guy, anyway?” Ava said, looking around them. “He’s been scarce since I broke the spell that made everyone dolls.”
Farlan continued on to where Ben Miller was treating the other wounded, and saw several of his brothers had burns on their hands and arms from aiding the female vassals. More burned bodies lay swaddled in linen sheets spotted with dark blood.
“After you wash your hands, remove any clothing that is touching their burns,” the healer was telling Alec and Darro, who were helping two more men in from the passage.
“Cut it off if you have to. The same goes for rings, cuffs and neck chains—anything on them will heal with the burns, so strip them completely. Drape them with clean linen wherever they are burned but don’t bandage them; I’ll see to that.
Seneschal, that man’s boot soles are still smoldering. ”
Farlan eased the charred footwear off the carpenter.
“The enchantment, ’twill heal me, aye?” the young vassal asked him, his face paling as he regarded his badly burned feet.
“Remember when the old granary caught fire when the wind knocked over that lamp left burning?” Farlan said, as he covered the lad’s feet with the linen shroud.
“Rory near turned his hands to charcoal dragging those two drunken sculleries out of the blaze, and by morn he’d been entirely healed.
If he could heal from burns far worse, then yours shall be gone in a few hours. ”
As he worked, his fingers brushed the wooden frame of the cot, which began to sprout thin twigs that covered themselves with new leaves. He drew the gloves from his belt.
“No, dinnae, please,” the boy said. “I like seeing the wood come back to life. ’Tis like your lady.”
Farlan pulled on his gloves. “What of my lady?”
“She’s already on her feet and tending to others,” the young vassal said.
Farlan rose and looked at every cot, walking through the narrow spaces between them until he saw a figure wrapped in a silk shawl on the other side of the hall.
“Grace,” he said, and ran for her.
H obbling over to where Inga lay with the other vassals who had been injured required all of Grace’s strength, and still her arms and legs shook badly.
The shock of movement made her burns all flare to full agony, but she knew how to manage that now.
Looking at Farlan, who had become the best medicine in the world for her, she carefully sat down on the floor next to her grandmother’s cot.
The silk shawl Olivia had wrapped around her covered most of her bandages, but she couldn’t do anything about her face.
She kept smiling as she looked at her grandmother, which was almost more than she could manage.
All of the chatelaine’s hair had been burned off, and most of her skin appeared blackened.
“She isn’t in any pain,” Ben Miller told her as he came to the other side of the cot. “You should rest now, and then sit with her later.”
“I’m fine.” She reached for her grandmother’s hand, halted and looked at him. “Can I touch her?”
Inga opened her eyes and tried to smile at Grace.
“It’s all right, my dear,” she said in a slightly raspy voice. Her gaze shifted to the healer. “Would you give us a moment alone, please, Ben?”
The doctor sighed before eyeing them both, nodding and leaving.
Inga’s eyes, still as lovely as ever, shifted to Grace’s face. “Thank you for rescuing me. That was so brave of you. I don’t think I could have done that.” She coughed, making a liquid sound in her chest, and then struggled to take in a breath.
“Don’t talk,” Grace said. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up, Grandmother. ”
“I’m afraid when I go to sleep, it will be forever,” the chatelaine said. “I wish I could stay and be with you. I am very glad we had a chance to meet each other.”
“You just have to hold on until dawn. The magic of this place heals, remember?” She could hear the fear in her own voice, so she added, “You’ll never know what happened with Tonje unless you do. I have so much to tell you. You know you want to hear all the stories I have about her.”
“I went to the archives with Farlan,” Inga said, “and he helped me use the laird’s Fae viewing scroll to look back at your life. I saw everything that you suffered because of me and my daughter. I can never apologize for that, my dear, but I am so sorry.”
Tears welled up into her eyes for the first time since her mother had died. “It’s not your fault. I know you would have come back to us if you could. All three of us suffered because we couldn’t be together.”
“You are nothing like me and Tonje, you know,” her grandmother said gently. “You won’t make the same mistakes we did, either. You have a wonderful, courageous heart that is even more beautiful than your face. Farlan is a very lucky man.”
Grace heard how her voice was growing softer and fainter and swallowed a sob. “Please don’t go. You’re all the family I have left.”
“You have Farlan now—and I’ll always be part of you,” Inga promised. “If you will remember me kindly, and be happy, that’s all I can ask. It’s the only gift any woman needs.” She closed her eyes. “Happiness.”
Her final word came out with her last breath, and then her fingers went limp in Grace’s.
She didn’t know how long she sat holding her grandmother’s hand; at some point Farlan came and helped her to her feet. The hall spun around them, and then she blacked out. When she woke it seemed much later, with the shadows paling as dawn light came through the windows.
Grace turned her head to see Farlan stretched out on a cot next to hers.
He wasn’t sleeping, but lay watching her as thousands of tiny white lights floated down and touched her skin.
Beneath her bandages the constant pain of her burns ebbed and then vanished, and her scalp prickled as her hair began to grow out from the stubble left by the fire.
She had always considered her looks as just a way to make money, but as the blistered skin of her face flattened and healed under the linen mask she let out a sigh of relief.
“You’re healed, my lady,” Farlan said, looking all over her. “So I must keep a vow and never again curse the magic of this place.”
“My grandmother?” she asked, hoping against what she remembered.
He reached over and took hold of her bandaged hand. “She’s gone, my sunshine.”
Grace sat up and looked over at the now-empty cot where Inga had lain. “What happened to her body?” When he didn’t answer she got to her feet and staggered over to the cot, lifting the blanket to see if her grandmother had turned to ash.
Farlan came up behind her. “The dead dinnae stay with us, my lady. They vanish.”
“That’s not right. How could this place just erase her, like she was never here?” She turned around and nearly hit him. “She wasn’t part of your cycle, so she’s just gone?”
“In truth, ’tis only happened once before,” he said gently. “We dinnae ken.”
“She deserved a decent burial. I could have…” The words got lost in the sobs that tore from her throat.
“I ken, my lady.” Farlan held out his arms, and held her close the moment she stepped into them. He didn’t say anything more, but just held her and let her cry against his tunic.