Let the Darkness In
Twenty

The fever had taken him and as I reached over to feel his forehead, his face split into a huge grin. Despite myself, I grinned back.

The servant returned, huffing and puffing his way through the door. In his hand he carried a large steaming bowl with a cloth draped over his arm. He laid it down on the flat chest at the end of the bed and then pulled out the knife. He placed it down beside the bowl, and at my gesture left.

Slowly, I walked over to the knife and stared at it for the moment. I half expected Madb’s face to be reflected in the shining blade. Nothing as yet. As I reached for it, I realised my hands were trembling. I paced back to Jarrett who had been watching me with bright eyes, whether out of curiosity or fever I could not tell.

He closed his eyes.

“I hope you are not planning to kill an innocent prince with that,” he chuckled.

The knife nearly slid out of my palms as the sweat laced them, but I managed to catch it. My throat was raw. As I moved the knife closer to his torso, I saw my hands were shaking. Praying I had enough strength to steel them, the knifepoint touched the tip of the fabric. So far, so good. With my other hand, which was also trembling, I pulled the cloth taught and when I was sure it was clear of the fabric, I pushed. I nearly screamed as the knife went through easily but I clamped my lips together.

By ripping and tearing the rest, I was finally able to pull off the cloth. Distraction appeared in the shape of Jarrett’s torso. I had never seen a man this intimately before. His torso was lean, the muscle underneath toned and taught. My fingers reached forward and I hesitated, shooting a look at Jarrett from in between my lashes. He was looking down at me with his, a small tilt to the left side of his mouth.

My fingers touched the skin and we both felt a frisson run between us. Next, my hand came down and smoothed the skin. It was velvety smooth with the warm pulse of life moving behind it. I moved up his skin, to the smooth chest with its defined pectorals. I moved over to the arm, the muscle swelling with strength.

Then I stopped. His other arm, that was the problem. Flushing, I bent to inspect the sore shoulder. My body was aflame with heat and I realised we were both breathing heavily. Trying to ignore the hot breath on my neck, I tenderly felt the area. It was warm and swollen, the shoulder joint bulging awkwardly. I would feel his tense up in anticipation of me cranking the joint back into place. No matter if I told him to relax, he would still know.

So I sat up, seeing the small frown flicker across his face. I rummaged into my bag and took out some of the lavender oil there. Swirling it in the water, I breathed in the strong scent. It was something I had never thought to use before but Ainesilver had shown me that crushed, dried or pummeled, there was something that seemed to calm patients.

I dipped the cloth in, wrung it out and began to dab at Jarrett’s sweating face. He was grinning up for me, but as he inhaled the perfume, his eyes slowly shut and remained open only a slit. Seizing the moment, I dived in. Pulling the shoulder firmly towards me, I lifted the floppy arm, twisted and lifted it back into place. He let out a cry and tried to resist but it locked back in.

With the patient growling at me, I used the remnants of the torn shirt to tie his arm up.

Next, I knew there was another wound. I had avoided this one, even though this would have been important. I looked at Jarrett directly in the eye.

“I’m going to need you to take off your trousers.” His eyes widened but I saw the twinkle in his eye.

He stared at me for a moment, then pointed at his bandaged arm. “Might be a bit difficult…”

Deep down, I had known full well he was less than capable of doing as I bid. Feeling a savage blush creep over my face, I set my lips in a firm line and pulled back the blankets.

Congealed blood glinted on the linen, having seeped from the wound. Someone had snapped the twig a little but there was still plenty left sticking out. Ysymay had once shown me a diagram of how to remove an arrow from a person’s body. Luckily, there was no risk of an arrowhead being left inside the flesh of Jarrett’s thigh.

I went back to my bag of medicines and began having a look. Knowing full well the exact injuries Jarrett had sustained, I had been able to pack the right things. A twig in the leg was a job that would need plenty of infection-fighting plants.

In a side pocket, I had put some bunches of dried-up plants. Fresh were the best healers but some of the best plants did not grow in these parts.

I took a few of the yarrow plants out and strode to the door. Yanking it open, I saw the boy sitting on the steps, idly kicking. As he heard the door, he shot to his feet.

“Take these to the kitchens. Crumble them into hot water and stir them about. Then bring it up. I also need a bowl of fresh water. Wait here.” He nodded as I shoved the bundle into his hands and then I ducked back inside, emerging with the bowl.

He disappeared with a slap of leather shoes on stone. I went back in and examined the wound carefully. The stick would come out cleanly enough but it was the leftover splinters and dirt I worried about. I had to wait till the boy returned with the water before I could try anything.

It took an age for the boy to return but finally he did, this time slightly buckle-kneed under the board he was carrying. Whisking it off him, I closed the door and moved back inside.

Better to get this over and done with.

I shoved the mug into Jarrett’s hands. He winced at the smell. “Drink it. It’ll help with the pain.”

Looking truly miserable, he took a sip and I stifled a laugh. He looked like a petulant child who had not had its way.

Next, I set to getting rid of the twig. Despite the numbness that was creeping through his veins, the look on his face was one of sheer terror.

“You’ll be ok,” I whispered, knowing I would do everything I could to ensure my words rang true. After a moment’s hesitation, Jarrett leant back against the pillows. “But it’s going to hurt.”

The only acknowledgement I got was a swallow.

Setting my hands around the twig, I yanked. My patient roared, the mug of liquid flying out his hand and thumping on the floor.

It came out with a pop of air and the inflamed skin around it immediately started to bleed. Quickly, I set to tearing the thigh of his trousers. I grabbed my cloth, dipped it in the water and pressed down hard. Jarrett was bucking and groaning and it was taking all my strength to hold him down with one hand whilst my other tried to stem the bleeding.

When I had checked on the wound a few times, it finally stopped bleeding. Replacing my hand with his to hold the cloth in place, I reached for the aloe vera paste. I was lucky to be holding this in my hands. This plant was one of the best for fighting bad humours but it didn’t grow in dank Britain. Instead, it was imported and made a great profit for travelling merchants and peddlers.

Dipping my finger into the cold, gooey paste, I lifted Jarrett’s hand and smeared it over the wound. He flinched, but more from its slick coolness than from the stinging. I watched it it created a greasy sheen inside and out of the hole.

Finally, I pulled out the wad of cloth I kept in my bag. Wrapping it around the wound, I pressed firmly and tied it together with some scraps of torn cloth Ainesilver cut up every night. Fiddling around until the knots were secure, I breathed out and sat back , swatting a strand of hair away from my face.

Jarrett was breathing heavily. Not sure if he was on the verge of sleep, I gently shook him. His warm brown eyes were watching me , heavy and ready to down shut. I put my hand on his good leg, not hard but with enough pressure to keep him awake just a moment longer.

“I’m going to get your servant to bring you two mugs of arrow twice a day. You MUST drink them or your wound will get worse. It may be foul but if you want to move that leg again, you must drink it.”

He gave some semblance of a nod. Well, he had heard and that was enough. I trusted him.

As I stood up, he gave my hand a small squeeze. “Thank you Siofra.”

I nodded as my throat seized up. Swallowing with a loud gulp, I replied, “I’ll be back in a few days. DO NOT touch those bandages.”

Gathering my things, I took one last look at him lying vulnerable on the bed and left.

For now, he was safe and there was no doubt of his recovery under my hands. However, it was for what waited after his recovery that I was more scared of. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

When I returned, Ainesilver was sat at her table, pounding and pummeling some acerbic herbs. As I approached she looked up.

“Welcome back healer of princes.” So she had heard. I shrugged, sinking into one of the chairs. “It seems you don’t really need me any more.”

I couldn’t leave Ainesilver, not right yet, but I knew now, it would only be a matter of weeks until I would go.

“I’ll be ready to go in a few weeks, but I have to make sure Ja- the prince recovers.”

“Of course. You know I went running to the castle when I heard the news spreading through the town, but I was told you had beaten me to it and I wasn’t needed.” There was a long pause and my stomach started somersaulting. Then Ainesilver flashed me a smile and I knew I was off the hook. “How is he?”

“He’s in a lot of pain but he’ll survive. I’ll make sure of that.”

“You make sure you do. We’ll get a good lot of silver for that.”

The next few days, after displaying how adept I was at healing, Ainesilver sent me off to deal with patients on my own. Some of them she had been seeing for years and at first, they were sceptical when I turned up. However, by the time I had left, for most of them, I had gained their trust

The day came around when I needed to head back to the castle to change Jarrett’s bandages.

I packed my bags with a light heart. Jarrett was in safe hands and now I was getting a chance to see him again. What’s more, there was no one to watch us or judge.

Almost skipping into the castle, I made my way past the guards. They had come to recognise me, and most importantly, trust me. One of them even gave me the briefest of nods. Huffing and puffing up the staircase, I felt my thighs burn. I was by no means unfit, just not used to the rigours of a rather large castle and the hundreds of stairs it contained.

Geraint, whose name I thought best to ask, was waiting for me. He went to knock but I stopped him. There was no need after all. With a grin on my face and feeling like a goddess, I crashed in.

Apparently, Geraint had needed to knock after all.

A sharp face looked up and hissed like a cat.

“What are you doing here?!” she squealed, looking at Geraint like he had betrayed her.

“Well good morning Lady Isobel.” Fire flashed in her eyes. “I’ve come to steal your lover’s soul.”

I couldn’t resist.

With a shriek like a banshee, she flew at me, her nails curved into talons. Neatly I sidestepped, sending her slipping out into the stairwell. Promptly, I slammed the door and turned to face my patient. My eyes widened as I saw him convulsing. Fearing a fit, I ran to his side, only to see the tears pouring down his cheeks and the gasps for breath. I could feel the bubble of laughter rising inside me too.

“I’m sure you’ll recover now the bad humours have left you.”

There was an explosion of noise and the breathing became even more laboured.

Whilst my patient sorted himself out from his fit, I pottered around, laying out my tools and various ointments. A mug sat beside him and I dubiously picked it up. Half expecting to smelling the acrid scent of leftover wine or ale, I was almost grateful for the wack of steamed yarrow that bombarded my senses.

“I’ve - been - true to my word,” Jarrett wheezed, the fever of humour finally receding. Trying to look at him sternly and ignoring the pull of a smile on my lips, I regarded him with as much detachment as I could.

“I’m very glad to hear it. How are the wounds?”

Jarrett gave a lopsided shrug. “My shoulder feels a little lopsided, not much use for sword-wielding -”

“-Definitely not.”

“As I said, not much use for swinging the sword around but it’s healing. Leg is aching like an old man’s bones.”

“That would be your leg healing. Right, I’m going to have to go in.”

He gave me a waggle of his eyebrows and I very nearly dislocated his shoulder again.

I threw back the sheets to see he had completely removed his trousers. Whether that had been in special preparation for my visit...trying to ignore the scantily covered bit at the top of his thighs, I set to removing the bandage.

Ainesilver had bought me a pair of called scissors at the market. I used the sharp blades to ship at the cloth. It fell away easily, revealing an oozing, mustard gunk. Once more, I ordered hot water after checking the blonde harpy had gone. After wiping away the slick liquid, I saw the wound was starting to heal. It was a little red and puffy around the edges but the hole was less deep. I dabbed it with some special oil and then smeared the aloe vera paste on.

Wiping my hands on my skirt, Jarrett said, “When can I leave this prison? You are the only thing keeping me sane here.”

I felt the glow rising. “A few more days and then we can see about walking.”

“Only if you come with me,” he retorted as I turned my back. Turning back, I walked over to his side. He went to grab my hands in a gesture I feared would be intimate. Instead, I thrust a bunch of withered plants into his hand. He blinked with wide eyes, rather like an owl.

“You know what to do,” I ordered and then went to leave.

“Has healing me left you a bit hot and bothered Siofra, or are you coming down with a fever?”

I put a hand to my face and could feel the heat of the blood pulsing under my skin. I left the room sharply. Outside, I rested my burning forehead on the cool stone of the wall. I saw two images in my mind - his smiling face and the sneering faces of the villagers as they surrounded me.

As I walked back across the courtyard, I felt something splat against me. Looking down, I saw it was a small lump of animal waste. I looked around for the small child and instead saw a flushed and wild-haired looking woman with corn blonde hair loitering by the stables. I flashed her a smile as I stepped over the offensive item.

Inside, as I thundered down the hill, I wish I had picked the turd up and rammed it down her throat. But she lived another day. After all, I wouldn’t be sidetracked by her. She may soon prove to be a thorn in my side but I could easily replace a way to dispose of her. The thought of taking her to the dark fortress instead was appealing.. Perhaps....my heart lifted for a moment. Madb wanted blood at the end of it all and blood could be gotten quite easily.

My mind worked furiously and instead of heading back to the walls of the cottage that were becoming more stifling by the day, I turned back towards the woods. The pull had still been there, after everything; the presence of Madb, the old mother, and the hunting accident. By rights, each event should have scarred me, but the forest seemed to let me know, these had all happened for a purpose. It had read my mind on the days I went back in between seeing Jarrett.

Remembering those eyes, the humour and now, even his voice seemed to bring the goosebumps, had made me doubt everything. I had even tried to retreat deeper into the forest, unconsciously trying to force my way back to Ysymay and my old life. But for the first time, the woods had turned against me, blocking my way. It was their way of showing that despite my feelings, despite the reality of the task that faced me, the forest remembered and the beings in it needed my protection.

As I walked back to the edge now, I realised it was because I needed guidance. But I also wanted to test the waters. If the forest was part of me, then it would see what I was trying to do.

Green shade welcomed me as I stepped into the cold, muddy earth. My skirts were already saturated by the time I had taken a few steps. Picking an ancient oak, I went to stand beneath it and opened myself up. Letting my thoughts run free, I felt the trees connect to my mind. Small and large shapes flitted around my vision as my eyes funnelled through the greenery.

Images of Jarrett on his sick bed, the king and then the new choice...just a whir of blonde. The forest seemed to feel the spite emanating from her and recoiled, sending their discontent racing back.

She deserves to die, the leaves bristled with their thoughts. Go back and kill her after. But she is not of royal blood. Royal blood breaks the bindings.

I shut them out, like slamming down a steel gate, and turned on my heel. This was not the woods I wanted but I knew it was the forest I needed. It was the one that had bought me up and taught me to use my powers. And now, it was expecting me to use my powers in return.

As I stomped down back to the city, I realised at least they had given me the go ahead. I wanted her gone of course, because anyone who threw faeces was clearly lacking intelligence, but on the other hand...the reason that drove the fuel most...was that she would get Jarrett. And the only way I could make sure that didn’t happen was to have him all to myself...till death did us part.

Ainesilver said nothing of my black mood. These were becoming more and more frequent these days as fate battled conscious. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined Jarrett laying in his bed, naive, assured in my skills and that he would heal. And then I would feel a sickening constriction and see a dark, fall figure standing on the edge of his bed. She would reach out a hand that dripped with scarlet and the words, “He’s ours Siofra” would jolt me awake.

I needed to talk to Madb.