Page 49 of The Guardian's Bride
“Outings are not common practice with dungeon prisoners, though it could be arranged.”
“Good. In fact, all the prisoners should be allowed outside regularly for air and sunshine,” she replied. “If you want these men to be healthy, do arrange it. Try to add sea beets and parsley to their diet as well. It grows abundantly in the grassy areas here, and will help the prisoners—and everyone here.”
“I can get the plants, but I need permission to take the prisoners outside,” Sir Walter said.
“As the lady pointed out, they can hardly escape,” Aedan said. “You could let them wander outside all day and not lose aone. Perhaps they could do some fishing and be well occupied and useful.”
“I will speak to Sir Brian.”
“You will find no objection there, is my guess,” Aedan said, and Walter nodded.
Rowena bent toward the prisoner. “May I see your tongue, sir, and your teeth?” He obliged as she peered. “Aye, sea beet will help. You will feel much better soon, I think. What is your name?”
“Sir Austin Grey,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Son of the Earl of Aylesford.”
“His father is an advisor to King Edward,” Sir Walter murmured. “Sir Austin is heir to the earl and a companion to the Prince of Wales.”
Rowena gave the young man a kind smile. “I hope you will not be here long, sir,” she murmured. “Sir Walter, I could do something else for him if we had a cup of water.”
“Here.” Sir Walter poured water from a pottery jug into a wooden cup, and Rowena took it. She opened her belt pouch, removed a translucent white stone the size of a small plum, and dropped it into the water. She passed her hand over it in light, fey-like gestures, as if she cast a glamourie over the young man. Watching the dance of her fingers, Aedan felt bespelled himself.
“Is fresh water transported to this isle?” she asked.
“The only fresh water source here is rain we catch in barrels,” Sir Walter answered. “And barrels of fresh water are brought from the mainland each week.”
She nodded, casually circling a flat palm over the water as if lost in thought. Suddenly remembering moments at Holyoak, Aedan continued to watch, curious.
“Austin Grey needs water,” she said. “His body thirsts for it. Everyone here needs more, I think. Sir Aedan, might we ask Sir Brian if more barrels can be brought here?”
He nodded, leaning a shoulder against the open door of the cell. “I will do so.”
She plucked the stone from the water and set it on the table, then handed the cup to Sir Austin. He sipped it slowly.
“I have heard of using stones in healing, my lady,” Sir Walter said, “but I have not seen it done. I wonder if they are just superstition, or if they have some effect.”
“They do have some benefit. Those who know stones choose them carefully and then prepare them by infusing them with charms and healing chants. The stones leach their nature into the water, which can lend strength to those who drink it,” she explained. “Stones can help cool fevers and soothe aches. They can calm the mind and the spirit if dipped in water or wine that is then swallowed. Sir Austin should have some each day for a week at least. Here,” she said, handing the stone to Sir Walter. “You may have this one.”
“Lady, I cannot take your stone if it is special to you.”
“I have others. Take it,” she insisted. He did.
Standing by the door, Aedan remembered how Rowena had used a special stone months ago to treat him. In fast, foggy images, he recalled seeing a translucent white stone dropped into water; hands moving gracefully; her voice, chanting softly; and cool, wet stones on his fevered skin. The woman with the crystal, as Thomas had once mentioned. The stone she had shown him at the tavern, the Rhymer’s stone, was wrapped in silver bands, different than the stone she gave Walter Forbes.
Waiting, Aedan admired her skill, her calm, her humility, her simple beauty—long dark hair, creamy flushed skin, full and tender lips, eyes of stormy gray.
He just wanted to gaze at her, take in her gentle grace, like a balm for the soul. Being near her made him feel better, calmer somehow. In a way, she was like a balance for him, her calm and compassion filling gaps in his sometimes hasty, troubled spirit.
Last February, in a fevered fog, he had leaned into her healing strength while his body, his very spirit, recovered. He fell in love with her a little, a mingling of gratitude, relief, awe. Now, standing by while she worked, he felt that rush through him again.
This time, gratitude and admiration were riper, fuller, more real, filling him. He was falling in love not with an ideal, but with the woman standing a few feet away. Sucking in a quick breath, he wondered if that was indeed so—and what to do about it.
She bid Sir Walter and Sir Austin farewell, and as they thanked her, Aedan recognized the spark in Austin’s eyes. The young knight had fallen a little in love with her too, lured by her calm magic, leaning on her every word, his eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed. Sir Walter took her hand and thanked her again. Aedan had thought him sure of his own worth and skeptical of hers, but his gesture now was warm.
She turned, her quick smile just for Aedan, gentle and intimate, as if they shared a secret. Crinkling his eyes in affection, he marveled. She glowed from within, peaceful, alluring, beautiful, and unaware of it. He had never met a woman like her. The little sparkle in her eyes could knock him over. That soft hand could heal all his ills.
As they left the cell, Aedan turned.
“Sir Walter,” he said, “were I you, I would do whatever the lady suggests. I am alive today because of her skill.”
