Page 59 of A Fearless Rebel

His father let out a sigh. “Very well. They will be dispatched tomorrow.”

“Eat,” his mother urged. “Yer soup will get cold.”

While he ate, his mother spoke of inconsequential things, mainly about staff in the keep and visitors who’d overstayed their welcome. Her anecdotes were just what Keithen needed at the moment. He and the laird had always enjoyed her descriptions and animated imitations of the villagers who’d been there for hearings.

Once her parents left, a couple of men came to help him prepare for the night. By the time the healer’s awful tincture flowed down his throat, he was so tired that he would have easily fallen asleep without it.

Chapter Eighteen

Ava thanked the peddler who brought her to Mackenzie Keep. The man was setting up to sell his wares just outside the walls. Immediately, people emerged and began to bargain. She hurried through the gates and inside. The sooner she could retrieve some belongings and, hopefully, some coins from her mother, the sooner she’d leave forever.

Her mother was nowhere to be found. In the great room, only a few servants milled about. As per usual, no one felt comfortable enough to remain in there.

“Where are my brother and mother?” she asked a young woman, who started at seeing her. “Mistress Ava. I-in yer brother’s chambers.”

She hurried up the steps, stopping only upon seeing two guardsmen standing outside the door. Both gave her a quick once over and said nothing.

News that she was the one to inform the Ross about Keithen’s capture must not have reached them because they allowed her to pass without speaking.

The stench in the room was horrible. It was almost as if someone had already died. But instead, she found Alastair seated on a chair, drinking.

“Ah, there she is. My sister appears to ensure I die.” Alastair’s words slurred. “What do ye want?”

The healer who had a cloth tied around his face to cover his nose and mouth hurried to her. “He will not allow me to clean his wound. It has festered.” Thankfully, the man handed her a cloth and she tied it around her face.

“Where is Mother?”

When Alastair ignored the question, the healer replied, “She’s gone to yer uncle’s keep in the north.”

“She left ye?” Ava neared her brother. “Ye cannot be left alone right now.”

When Alastair threw his head back and laughed, she quickly sprinkled herbs into his ale and motioned a servant closer.

The green-faced young maid, who looked like she was about to get sick, managed to pour more ale into the cup and Ava noted the healer added more herbs when Alastair looked to Ava.

“I would have left if I were her. When I die, all of this goes to no one.” He motioned with one hand.

“Ye do not have to die. Allow me to help,” Ava told him in a flat tone. She went to the window to get fresh air. But it did little to help.

“Guards!” she called out when Alastair slumped forward moments later.

The men were reluctant to enter, but finally did. They lay her brother atop the bed and then hurried back out.

Ava then looked to the maid. “Go instruct the cook to boil water. Bring back cold water for now.”

Along with the healer, she was able to peel away the bloodied cloths from between her brother’s legs. The arrows had pierced his manhood and his lower abdomen. The lower injury had caused enough damage that he would never perform as a man again.

“The rotting flesh will all have to be cut away. But even then, the festering has spread.”

“Why did ye not give him herbs before this?” Ava demanded. “Ye could have had guards subdue him and…”

“I tried, but the guards would not listen to me.”

Ava understood. Alastair and her father ruled through fear. Punishments for disobedience had always been horrible.

Ava went to the doorway.

Two guards looked at her. “Ye should go, ensure the keep is secure. I am not sure my brother will live much longer. The clan will be vulnerable.”