Chapter Twenty-Five

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I t was the same thing on a different day.

It was the same chamber and the same bed. It was the same sights and smells and sounds—of Ming Tang and his ancient medicines, of the physic from Exebridge and his knowledge of English medicine, and Marina as she bathed Athdara's face and arms, trying to keep the fever at bay.

A fever that had been going on for the past twelve days.

As they had feared, the wound in her belly had festered. It oozed pus and other fluids for several days as Ming Tang put moss and mustard plasters to draw the poison out. That had seemingly tapered off a few days ago, thankfully, and Athdara had moments of semi-lucidity that Ming Tang took advantage of to force a concoction called a rotten brew down her throat. Literally, it was brewed from the blue mold in bread. Sometimes the fever was greater, sometimes it was lessened, but the past ten days had seen it constantly present to some degree.

Tay was close to giving up hope.

This morning had been the worst of it. He had refused to surrender all hope until Athdara had some sort of fit just before dawn. Her fever had been high at the time, and her entire body quivered and bucked. Tay had been forced to hold her down until the fits stopped, and it was the most horrifying thing he'd ever experienced. Ming Tang had Tay and Marina put cool rags all over Athdara's body to bring her temperature down, and it had worked. Since the fit that morning, she'd been sleeping like the dead.

For the moment, she was stable.

With one crisis averted, another one arose. He had a recruit class to attend and was reluctant to do so. St. Denis had tried to be lenient about Tay's devotion to Athdara, but after a few days of his doing nothing but sitting around and grieving, St. Denis finally had to force him back to work. There was nothing he could do for Athdara, so St. Denis used that logic to force Tay to resume his training, which he did so under great duress.

It hadn't been pretty.

His recruits were shouted at, scolded, and verbally assaulted on a regular basis. Even Bowen and the men were the targets of Tay's bad humor. They knew why he was having such a difficult time, so they took the abuse stoically, but it had been quite vitriolic at times. Of the new recruit class that had started right before Athdara's injury, Tay had lost more than half the men in about two weeks. Those that remained were quite tough, indeed.

The Leviathan was out for blood.

On the day of Athdara's fit when Tay was forced back into training, his mood was particularly bad. St. Denis sent Aamir to shadow him, making sure he didn't tear anybody limb from limb in his distress. Fox even abandoned his group for a couple of hours to stand with Aamir, and both of them watched Tay rake his recruits over the coals. When Payne joined their little group, also watching with concern, Tay turned around and caught sight of them. Such a grim, concerned group of friends.

That was when Tay started to realize just how much of a bear he was being.

The recruits around him were trying desperately to do his bidding. They were strong men, including the two brothers who had trained at Kenilworth. Therron and Torr de Allington were strong and competent, helping some of the other recruits with their exercises when Tay wasn't looking. This particular exercise had the recruits rolling boulders, part of their strength training program, only the boulders had been dug out of the Devon earth by the recruits and then moved by manpower. They were enormous rocks, heavier and larger than several men—each. But Tay was having his recruits roll those things around as if they weighed little. It was making the recruits stronger, but it was also unnecessarily injuring them.

Toward the end of the day, Tay began to see that. With his friends grouped together several yards away, he called a halt to the daily exercise.

"Enough!" he bellowed, looking at the exhausted, muddied, bloodied group. "I know it has been a difficult week, but… life will be difficult sometimes. It will not always be fair. I hope you understand that was the point of this exercise. The things you will face as a Blackchurch knight will be beyond your endurance sometimes, but you must not give up. You must push through because you are trained to do so. Because of your hard work this week, you will take the rest of the day to rest and then all day tomorrow. There will be no work tomorrow."

Weary smiles spread among the men, but they didn't dare celebrate. Not until they were clear of the Leviathan, who could very well change his mind if they annoyed him too much. No one had had a rest day since they came to Blackchurch as a dreg, so that was an unexpected treat.

As the men began to pick themselves up, Tay turned to Bowen. "That means you too," he said quietly. "I know I have not been easy to get along with as of late, Bowen. You have had a greater burden to bear because of it, so rest tomorrow. You and the men have earned it."

Bowen, who had indeed been as beaten up and scolded as the rest of them, smiled weakly. "Thank you, my lord," he said. "You are generous."

"I am not," Tay said. "I am moody and beastly, but you tolerate it well. You will be rewarded for it."

Bowen cocked his head curiously. "My lord?"

"I will speak to Lord Exmoor about making you a permanent trainer."

Bowen's eyes nearly popped from his skull. "Me… my lord?"

Tay snorted at his shock. "Mayhap we shall call you the Titan," he said. "Wasn't it Atlas who bore the weight of the world upon his shoulders?"

"Aye, my lord."

"You have earned it. You bore my weight well enough. I will inform you when I've spoken to Lord Exmoor."

Bowen might have actually had a tear in his eye. "I cannot fully express my gratitude, my lord," he said. "Long has it been a dream of mine."

"And you have worked hard for it," Tay said. "But if you become a trainer, that means I lose you. That is like cutting off my right arm. I want you to approach the two recruits who are brothers—the de Allingtons—and ask them if they would consider working under me when their training is finished. I have been watching them, and I like what I see. Serving me would be lucrative work."

Bowen nodded. "Well do I know it, my lord," he said. "I will approach them."

Tay gave him a crooked smile. "Off with you before you start weeping like a woman."

Bowen started to move, but he paused. "My lord…" he said hesitantly. "Tay. I've not had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I am about the lady. I was not sure if my sympathies would be well met, but… but I know how you feel. I lost my wife when we were both quite young, so I… I understand what it is to lose the woman you love. I pray it does not come to that, for your sake."

Bowen was usually so professional in all aspects of their relationship that it was unusual for him to let his guard down. Tay appreciated that. He also appreciated the fact that now he knew something about Bowen, who had served under him for years, that he had not known before.

"I am ashamed that I did not know that," he admitted. "My condolences to you, Bowen. As for the lady… she is strong. She will survive."

Bowen smiled, though it was not one of joy or encouragement. It was one of sympathy to a man who didn't seem entirely convinced by his own words. Excusing himself, he headed off after the men.

With Bowen gone, Tay turned to the group of trainers behind him. With a heavy sigh, he trudged in their direction.

"Let me guess," he said. "You have come to make sure I do not rip any of my recruits apart with my bare hands. Wait—it is more than that. You have come to make sure I do not kill them all, pile their bodies, and dance on their corpses to ease my consuming grief. Is that it?"

He meant it as a jest. Sort of. He smiled weakly as the others chuckled.

"That is it, exactly," Payne said. "Yer Scots blood was evident, lad. Ye would have made any clan chief proud the way ye were bellowing commands."

Tay shrugged. "My father was Scots."

"I know," Payne said, a twinkle in his eye. "Ye're not like the rest of these pasty English. Ye've got lungs loud enough tae shout tae the Highlands."

Tay laughed softly. "Loud enough to frighten the recruits, anyway," he said. Then his smile faded. "I know I have been unbearable. Thank you for coming… to stand behind me as you did. If you stand here, I cannot fall. I will not fall."

"We wanted to make sure you did not destroy yourself," Fox said. "I've known you for many years, Tay. I know what happens when your mood becomes like this. I wanted to make sure you did not hurt yourself—or anyone else, for that matter."

Tay nodded even as he hung his head. "I know," he said. "I am torn up inside, and I cannot hide it. But I will try. I will do better."

"Your mood is the manner in which you bleed," Aamir said. "Your heart has an open wound, and your sharp manner is the blood flowing from it. If you continue to bleed, you will kill yourself. You know that. I think you have realized that it is time to dress the wound. The lady is not dead, Tay. She continues to survive, and only a woman of great strength would have lasted so long. I cannot believe God intends for her to die if he has saved her this long. You must have faith, my friend."

Aamir could always come up with a poetic way to explain the character of men. Tay understood his words deeply. "Never surrender," he whispered.

"Exactly."

Tay simply nodded, and Aamir patted him on the side of the head, a brotherly and comforting gesture. Before they could continue their conversation, however, a shout came from the direction of the village.

"Tay!"

All four of them turned to see Marina standing there, waving both arms at him. She was screaming.

"Tay, you must come! Hurry!"

Tay bolted faster than he'd ever moved in his life.

*

She was fighting.

Athdara's last memory was of a vicious fight, so as she began to regain consciousness, the memories of that battle were with her. She was still fighting for her life.

Therefore, she had no idea where she was when she opened her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling of a chamber. She could hear the birds outside and the branches of a tree as a breeze caressed it, but her body was tensed, waiting to continue that fight.

Then she saw a face.

A face she didn't recognize. An older man was peering at her, and she was back in that fight. In a panic, she punched the man in the nose and tried to roll away from him, but she could hardly move her body. Everything hurt, and she was as weak as a kitten. She was in a bed she didn't recognize and ended up throwing herself onto the floor. As weak as she was, she was struggling to crawl away when someone called her name.

"Athdara!"

Breathing heavily with panic and exertion, Athdara turned to see Marina running toward her. Finally, a face she recognized.

"Marina," she said weakly. "Where… where am I? Who was that man?"

Ming Tang was on Marina's heels as she bent down to put her arms around Athdara, who needed someone to cling to. She was disoriented and frightened.

"You are safe," Marina said steadily. "Let me help you back to bed."

"But why am I in bed?"

"Because you were injured."

Between Marina and Ming Tang, they managed to lift Athdara up and put her back in the bed. She lay back, her hand on the wound to her belly because it was paining her.

"The bounty hunter," she said, grunting when Marina tugged on her leg to slide her down on the mattress. "He tried to kill me."

"He tried, indeed," Ming Tang said, leaning over her. "I have battled against his evil intentions for many days to heal you. I will not let him win, my lady, I promise."

As Marina dashed out of the chamber, Athdara looked up at the man with the dark eyes and calm demeanor. "You have battled him?" she said, still slightly disoriented. "But I killed him. At least, I thought I killed him."

Ming Tang nodded as he pulled the bottom of her tunic up to get to the wound in her belly. To preserve her modesty even though she was wearing linen breeches that Marina had put on her, he pulled up the coverlet and covered everything but the left side of her torso.

"He is long dead," he said. "But his shadow lingers. It has lingered over you for days, whilst this wound he gave you tries to kill you. How do you feel?"

Athdara wasn't exactly sure. "I don't know," she said as she looked around the room. "Where am I?"

"Tay's chamber."

Once he said that, her surroundings began to become familiar to her. "Where is he?"

"Marina has gone to fetch him, I am sure," Ming Tang said, peering at the wound. "You did not tear your stitches. In fact, your wound looks better than it has in many days."

Athdara sighed, feeling him poke at her wound site. "I do not remember anything," she said. "You say I have been here for several days?"

"Twelve days, my lady."

"I have been sick for twelve days?"

Ming Tang nodded. "You have had a fever for many days," he said. "This morning, you even had a fit because of it, but when I touch your flesh now, it feels as if the fever has broken. Mayhap this morning was the very last of it."

Athdara put her hand to her own forehead to try to feel for this fever he said had broken. "I am not warm."

"Then you must feel better."

She thought on that. "I think so," she said. "But I feel… sore. Everything seems to be sore. But I think I am thirsty. May I have something to drink?"

Ming Tang smiled and covered her incision site back up with the coverlet. "Of course," he said. "That is a very good sign. I will tell the man whose nose you struck. He will be glad to hear it."

"Who was that?"

"A physic from Exebridge."

Athdara tried not to feel sheepish. "I am sorry," she said. "I did not recognize him. I thought… I last remember fighting someone, and…"

She couldn't quite finish, and Ming Tang patted her arm. "I know," he said. "So does he. I am sure that he is only sorry he got so close to you."

Because he was chuckling, Athdara smiled timidly. But she was prevented from replying because it seemed as if someone opened the gate and all of the bulls in western England had come rushing into the cottage. She could hear the door downstairs flying back and then thundering footsteps coming up the stairs.

By the time she looked at the door, Tay was standing there, a look of panic on his face.

"What happened?" he said, nearly staggering into the chamber. "Is she worse?"

Ming Tang went to him. "Nay, my friend," he said, pulling Tay over to the bed. "She is much better. Ask her yourself."

Athdara smiled at Tay as he looked at her in disbelief. "I am better," she said softly. "Ming Tang says that my fever is gone. I will heal."

It was too much for Tay to take. He'd been convinced that Athdara had taken a turn for the worse when Marina summoned him, because he hadn't even asked her why he was needed. He'd just assumed it was for the worst, so to see Athdara smiling and speaking coherently unraveled him completely. Going to her bedside, he collapsed to his knees, wrapping his arms around her and dropping his head on her chest.

He held her as tightly as he could.

"My God," he breathed. "My God… is it true? Is it really true?"

Athdara shifted so she could put at least one arm around him. "It is," she murmured into his dirty hair. "I will heal, I promise. I am sorry to have caused you so much worry."

Tay laughed. At least, she thought he laughed, but when she continued to feel his body shake, she realized he was weeping. Her pleading expression sent Ming Tang, Marina, Fox, Aamir, and Payne out of the chamber.

When the door was shut quietly, she whispered against the top of Tay's head, "They are gone. It is only us. Look at me, my darling. Let me see you."

Tay lifted his head and sobbed. Fluid dripped from every orifice on his face as he struggled to get control of himself.

"I thought you were dead," he said, cupping her head between his two enormous hands. "I did not believe you would survive this, and I was contemplating how to go on without you. Athdara, I know men lose the women they love all the time. It is nothing new. But I could not lose you. It would tear a hole in me that would never be filled."

Athdara shushed him, wiping at the tears on his face. "I'm not leaving you, I promise," she said softly. "I will heal. I will heal, and I will continue to fight for my father's legacy. No bounty hunter can change that."

He kissed her, getting tears on her nose. "You will not leave me behind this time?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "When did I leave you behind?"

"When you were wounded," he said. "The bounty hunter found you in the stable because you were leaving. You told me so."

Athdara had to think on that. "I remember the fight," she said. "I remember Lord Exmoor telling me about the Comte de Roubaix. But so much of my memory is muddled. Did I tell you I would leave you?"

Tay could see, in those few sentences, that she didn't remember anything she'd told him about leaving him behind because she didn't want him to resent her for taking him away from Blackchurch. It had been disturbing for her, and for him, so perhaps the fever was God's way of erasing something that didn't really matter in the end. She'd been through enough, and they would be together, forever, come what may.

When she returned to Toxandria, it would be with him by her side. There was no question.

"It does not matter," he said after a moment, stroking her cheek with his thumbs. "You will be well again, and then we will speak on the Comte de Roubaix and the return to Breda Castle. There is time."

"There is," she said before removing his hand from her head and kissing it. "We have more time to spend together now, because I do not think I can travel anytime soon."

He shook his head. "You cannot," he said firmly. "If you try, I will sit on you."

"That would not be wise," she said. "I think I remember defeating a Leviathan once."

He smiled, his tears gone, as he leaned forward to kiss her. "You did defeat him, body and soul," he murmured, kissing her mouth, her cheek. "God has been good, my dearest love. He's given you back to me."

"I never left," she said, smiling back at him. "I have been here the entire time. I would never leave you, Tay. Not ever."

He kissed her again, feeling the first hope and relief he'd felt since the night she was injured. There was something so empowering about it. As he leaned over to kiss her neck, her tender shoulder, there was a knock at the door.

He lifted his head. "Come," he said.

The door creaked open and Ming Tang stuck his head in. "You have visitors, Tay."

Tay looked at him curiously but nodded, still kneeling over Athdara, still holding her hands. There was no possible way he was going to let her go, not even for visitors.

As Ming Tang stepped back, someone took his place. Tay found himself looking at Creston.

"Cres?" He quickly stood up. "You're back so soon. I hope not—"

He stopped himself before he could go any further to suggest something had happened that would devastate Athdara.

Creston held up a hand. "Nay," he said. "Nothing like that. In fact, we had the most amazing luck."

Tay's eyes widened. "You did?"

Creston smiled, nodding as he turned to the doorway behind him. Cruz was standing there, but next to him was a boy, about eight years of age. He was tall and slender, with a crown of shiny brown hair and big hazel eyes.

Athdara's eyes.

Nikolai stepped into the room. Athdara, who had been watching Creston curiously, noted the child entering the chamber, but it didn't immediately register that it was Nikolai. She hadn't seen him in two years, during which he'd shot up and filled out. He was growing up.

The boy came near the bed, looking at her, and suddenly burst into tears. "Athie!"

Athdara let out a cry of recognition as Nikolai ran to her, throwing himself at his sister. There wasn't a dry eye in the chamber as Athdara and Nikolai wept in each other's arms, with Athdara telling him how big and strong he had gotten and how handsome he was. She told him how proud she was of him and how very happy she was to see him.

Nikolai just sobbed.

As the tender scene played out before him, Tay turned to Creston and Cruz with a smile.

"Well done, lads," he said, a little misty-eyed himself. "I cannot believe you actually found him."

Creston, too, was smiling at the pair, while Cruz was rubbing his eyes, pretending he wasn't tearing up.

"We share your surprise," he said. "But he was right where you told us to look. He has been an acolyte at St. Bartholomew's and no longer lived on that farm. The priest who mentors him—Father Joseph—almost ran Cruz and I through. He thought we were bounty hunters come for the boy."

"He's a Kenilworth-trained knight," Cruz put in. "When we mentioned the child, he pulled out an enormous broadsword and tried to fight us."

Tay chuckled. "Clearly, you were able to reason with him."

Creston nodded. "We did, but the caveat is that he insisted on accompanying us to Blackchurch to make sure we were who we said we were," he said. "I've left him in the common room with Aamir and Payne and Fox. They'll set him straight."

"Indeed," Tay said, his gaze moving back to the bed, where Nikolai had stopped weeping and was furiously wiping his face as his sister spoke softly to him. "Does he know why you brought him here? Because of his sister's injury?"

Creston nodded. "He knows," he said. "We just spent five days on the road with him, Tay. I think you will be surprised at how mature this lad is. He knows everything, and he has definite opinions about it."

"Oh?"

Creston looked at him, a glimmer in his eye. "He will make an excellent duke."

Before Tay could reply, he could hear Nikolai's voice over Athdara's. The lad was shaking his head and repeatedly denying something.

Tay moved to the end of the bed. "My lord?" he said to Nikolai. "I am Sir Tay Munro. I am a trainer at Blackchurch. Your sister and I… We—"

"You are to be married," Nikolai said without hesitation, looking up at Tay. "I know. Sir Creston and Sir Cruz told me. They said that you and my sister are to be wed and that you will help regain my castle. But you won't."

Tay's brow furrowed. "We won't?"

"Nay," Nikolai said. "Because I am going to do it myself."

Tay didn't say anything. He looked at Athdara for her reaction, but she was looking at her brother.

"Niko," she said softly, "you must be kept safe so that you may assume your role as the duke once we have evicted Atilla. He is holding your castle for himself, and we intend to chase him away. We—"

"Nay," Nikolai said again, more firmly this time. He was looking between his sister and Tay as he spoke. "You have already risked yourself. You are hurt because of me. I do not want you to be hurt again, and I have decided that I should be the one to regain my castle and my lands. They are mine, Athie. I want to get them back myself. I would be a terrible duke to let my sister fight for me."

"That is not true," Athdara said. "You are a great hope for our people, and—"

"Listen," he said, cutting her off. "Listen to me. I will not be a boy forever. I will be a man soon, and I want to train at Blackchurch so they can teach me how to regain my castle. You are my sister, and I love you, but this is my fight. It is not yours. It is not your husband's. It is mine, and I will fight it for myself."

Athdara didn't know what to say. She looked to Tay, who had the faintest glimmer of approval in his eye as he looked at Nikolai.

Tay looked over his shoulder at Creston and Cruz, who had heard the same thing on their ride from London—five days of Nikolai telling them that the battle for Toxandria was his fight alone. Therefore, they nodded in approval. Nikolai de Ghent wanted to be a man and regain his own duchy. He didn't want to rely on his sister. He wanted to rely on himself, as a good and noble duke would. The knights understood that, even if Athdara didn't. With the Blackchurch knights at his side, and even Father Joseph of the First Blood of Christ's Holy Name beside him, Nikolai could go on to perform awesome deeds.

That was exactly why the Blackchurch Guild was there—to train. To create distinction. To shape the world they lived in by teaching men to do great things.

Aye, Tay understood that all too well.

"Are you sure, my lord?" he asked Nikolai. "It will not be easy. Training is difficult."

"So is taking back my castle," Nikolai said with all seriousness. "I am not afraid of training. I am afraid of losing Toxandria forever."

A smile tugged at Tay's lips. "Very well," he said. "But the final decision is your sister's. She must approve, because she is your guardian and you are not yet of age. If she agrees, I will train you."

All eyes turned to Athdara on the bed, but her gaze was on Tay. She could see the warmth and honor in his expression, the admiration for this young boy who was determined to take back that which belonged to him. Nikolai had indeed grown in the past couple of years—he'd matured. He'd learned to reason and to think of others. He didn't want his sister fighting his battles. That seemed to be a de Ghent trait—fighting one's own battles.

And Athdara was going to let him.

"You will make an excellent duke," she whispered to her brother. "Papa would be so very proud of you."

Nikolai held her hand tightly. "Then you will let me?"

Athdara kissed his little hands, so very grateful to be holding them again. Nikolai was here and he was safe. That meant everything to her.

The House of de Ghent would survive.

"You are a de Ghent, Niko," she said softly. "Take back what is yours, and I will stand beside you all the way."

Nikolai beamed, displaying several missing teeth and several new ones. He was, indeed, growing up.

And Blackchurch would be there to help him.