weaker than before was not encouraging.
He could not believe how much that earlier short trip from his prison to the wagon, even with the giant Turgeis’s support, had drained what little strength he had gained from his one night of undisturbed sleep. But the sleep he had just wakened from had restored him somewhat, at least enough so that when he spoke, he did not sound like he was dying.
Kristen was waiting patiently for his mouth to open again, no apology forthcoming for her overeagerness, none expected. But he asked, before he accepted the next bite, “Where is Royce?”
“Still in Wessex, I would imagine.”
Selig stopped chewing in his surprise. He had assumed his brother-in-law was merely busy somewhere in the camp, not that he was not in the camp at all.
“He actually let you come for me without him?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. “He was not there for me to tell him my intentions.”
Selig digested that for a moment, then said simply, “He will be angry.”
She tried to appear unconcerned, shrugging. “I suppose he will.”
“ Very angry.”
She glared at him now. “I know , brother, so belabor the point no further. ’Tis my worry, not yours. Now tell me all that ails you so I can apprise the healer—”
“Nay—if you love me, no more healers,” he cut in and actually shuddered. “The one just done with me called herself such, but all she did was force poison on me that let no food reach my belly.”
“Then you were given food?”
“Aye, but none that would stay down me long enough to do any good, thanks to that old witch.”
Kristen nodded thoughtfully. “The Dane said you were purged to rid you of the fever, and it must have worked, for you are cool to the touch now.”
“My fever was not so great—” He paused, those long hours of confusion and pain such a muddle in his mind. The delirium, the poison, the laughter. “At least not the last I recall of it,” he amended.
“You had it the whole three days you were at Gronwood?” she asked.
“Three?”
He choked on the spoonful she had managed to get by him while asking her questions. His movements were so slow that, if he did not know her so well to anticipate her reactions, he would not have had the time to put up a hand to stop her when she thoughtlessly leaned forward to pound on him. Now he simply scowled at her for the pain she would have inflicted by trying to help.
Defensively, Kristen scowled right back and said huffily, “I have never pretended to a great skill in tending the ill or wounded, Brother.”
“Or even a small skill,” he agreed. “Youare more apt at inflicting wounds than fixing them.”
She ignored that, continuing. “But you are stuck with me for the nonce, so you will just have to bear with me.”
He was grinning at her after that, and willing to accept another mouthful of food, saying around it, “Somehow I will manage—to survive your tender—nay, you cannot box my ears just now.”
She sat back, smiling. “A shame. They need it.”
He was no longer grinning, but was eyeing her with chagrin. “I suppose the very day I am recovered—?”
“Aye.”
“Verily do I wish your memory were not so long.” He sighed. “Actually, I could wish mine were not so lacking now. Explain to me that ‘three’ days.”
“’Tis how long you were imprisoned.”
“I do not remember it being so long.”
“What do you remember?”
His expression altered drastically, became fraught with deep anger. “The pain…and her laughter. Always her laughter. I never knew a woman could find pleasure in another’s suffering.”
Kristen gritted her teeth upon hearing that. “I was not going to tax you, but mayhap you had better tell me all of it.”
That brought a sigh from him, draining some of the anger. “It will not tax me, Kris, there is so little to tell. We were attacked whilst still inWessex; thieves, I suppose. They fell from the trees, and so many of them.”
“Aye, the rumor finally
He could not believe how much that earlier short trip from his prison to the wagon, even with the giant Turgeis’s support, had drained what little strength he had gained from his one night of undisturbed sleep. But the sleep he had just wakened from had restored him somewhat, at least enough so that when he spoke, he did not sound like he was dying.
Kristen was waiting patiently for his mouth to open again, no apology forthcoming for her overeagerness, none expected. But he asked, before he accepted the next bite, “Where is Royce?”
“Still in Wessex, I would imagine.”
Selig stopped chewing in his surprise. He had assumed his brother-in-law was merely busy somewhere in the camp, not that he was not in the camp at all.
“He actually let you come for me without him?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. “He was not there for me to tell him my intentions.”
Selig digested that for a moment, then said simply, “He will be angry.”
She tried to appear unconcerned, shrugging. “I suppose he will.”
“ Very angry.”
She glared at him now. “I know , brother, so belabor the point no further. ’Tis my worry, not yours. Now tell me all that ails you so I can apprise the healer—”
“Nay—if you love me, no more healers,” he cut in and actually shuddered. “The one just done with me called herself such, but all she did was force poison on me that let no food reach my belly.”
“Then you were given food?”
“Aye, but none that would stay down me long enough to do any good, thanks to that old witch.”
Kristen nodded thoughtfully. “The Dane said you were purged to rid you of the fever, and it must have worked, for you are cool to the touch now.”
“My fever was not so great—” He paused, those long hours of confusion and pain such a muddle in his mind. The delirium, the poison, the laughter. “At least not the last I recall of it,” he amended.
“You had it the whole three days you were at Gronwood?” she asked.
“Three?”
He choked on the spoonful she had managed to get by him while asking her questions. His movements were so slow that, if he did not know her so well to anticipate her reactions, he would not have had the time to put up a hand to stop her when she thoughtlessly leaned forward to pound on him. Now he simply scowled at her for the pain she would have inflicted by trying to help.
Defensively, Kristen scowled right back and said huffily, “I have never pretended to a great skill in tending the ill or wounded, Brother.”
“Or even a small skill,” he agreed. “Youare more apt at inflicting wounds than fixing them.”
She ignored that, continuing. “But you are stuck with me for the nonce, so you will just have to bear with me.”
He was grinning at her after that, and willing to accept another mouthful of food, saying around it, “Somehow I will manage—to survive your tender—nay, you cannot box my ears just now.”
She sat back, smiling. “A shame. They need it.”
He was no longer grinning, but was eyeing her with chagrin. “I suppose the very day I am recovered—?”
“Aye.”
“Verily do I wish your memory were not so long.” He sighed. “Actually, I could wish mine were not so lacking now. Explain to me that ‘three’ days.”
“’Tis how long you were imprisoned.”
“I do not remember it being so long.”
“What do you remember?”
His expression altered drastically, became fraught with deep anger. “The pain…and her laughter. Always her laughter. I never knew a woman could find pleasure in another’s suffering.”
Kristen gritted her teeth upon hearing that. “I was not going to tax you, but mayhap you had better tell me all of it.”
That brought a sigh from him, draining some of the anger. “It will not tax me, Kris, there is so little to tell. We were attacked whilst still inWessex; thieves, I suppose. They fell from the trees, and so many of them.”
“Aye, the rumor finally
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