Chapter 16

P erdita whipped her cloak off her shoulders, not caring about the cold, and gently swept up the falcon. She cradled him carefully, keeping his wings immobile. The falcon kept letting out small, pained cries.

Gordon stood beside her, shocked. “Will he die?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly.

It was clear that one of the crows had gotten the falcon in the breast with a talon, and quite frankly, he could die. It was impossible to know until they got him back into the castle and she could look at him more carefully.

“Come,” she urged Gordon. “You must stay with me. Your falcon needs you.”

Her own crow flew up from the ground and landed upon her shoulder. She was half stunned. She had been so afraid that bringing the two animals together would result in tragedy, but it had not been her crow who had attacked the falcon. It had been wild ones who were not in her keeping who had done it. Her crow had come to his falcon’s defense, had quite arguably saved him, and possibly at his own risk. For the wild birds could have turned on her crow.

They strode quickly through the snow. Luckily, the children had not seen the attack, having been so far away, and most of it had occurred within the forest, under the mask of the tree branches.

They had gone inside, no doubt for a morning hot milk or hot chocolate with Miss Abbot before the next round of revels began.

If the children somehow saw the wounded falcon, she would not tell them false pleasantries. She would explain nature to them and how sometimes creatures in nature hurt other creatures. It was simply the way it was. But that did not make life less beautiful.

Still, she could feel the agony coming not only from the falcon but from her new husband. The joy that he had felt earlier this morning had slipped away. Instead, she felt it. It was something old, something painful, as if his wound had been ripped open and was pouring forth a poison that had been long covered.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why did I let it happen? I’m supposed to protect him.”

“You didn’t let it happen,” she said softly. “You were allowing him to be happy.”

“And look what’s happened,” he rasped.

She did not reply. She couldn’t. He was not in a place to be argued with. They headed quickly into a side room in the servants’ quarters near the kitchens, where she kept her medicinal supplies.

Years ago, when she’d been a small girl, she had learned from one of the old wise women of the village how to create healing medicines to help animals as well as people. It had been part of a strange childhood, where she’d spent more time in the fields and forests than she ever had in one of the rooms of the castle. She’d been adopted by many of the villagers and certainly by the ones who liked to spend their time out of doors collecting plants and tending to the natural world.

She was very grateful for that now. She was grateful for all the animals that she had helped. And in that moment, she drew in a long breath and determined she would save the falcon. She would save him no matter what. Somehow, she would ensure that his little heart kept beating.

And there, as she gently placed him on the wooden table surrounded by the warmth of the crackling fire, she opened her cloak and looked.

It was a deceptive gash. The feathers were covered in blood. But it was not nearly as deep as she had first feared. In fact, it might be rather small. But she couldn’t tell for certain. First, she would have to clean the wound.

There was one thing that was true. The bird was clearly frightened, but as her eyes met his golden ones, she knew in her soul that he trusted her.

“Go and get hot water,” she said to Gordon. “Immediately. The servants have the day off. Ask one of my brothers for help. The kitchen always has hot water boiling.”

He looked at her, alarmed.

“Now,” she said. “It will do you good to have a task.”

He gave a tight nod, certain, it seemed, that if he couldn’t do anything else, he could at least help her. Brittle but determined, he strode away.

She gazed down at the falcon and stroked his feathered wing. He appeared soothed by her touch. She was surprised but relieved. In other instances, he might’ve tried to peck her with his sharp beak, but instead he looked up at her imploringly.

“Never you fear,” she vowed. “You are not going anywhere. You mustn’t,” she said. “For yourself and for him. He won’t ever forgive himself if you do not recover. Do you understand?” she said passionately.

She could hear the pleading note in her voice, how she was willing the wound to be nothing, and she was certain that the falcon did understand.

His yellow eyes gazed up at her, and she felt an affinity for him that took her breath away. As if the two of them were now bonded like she was with her crow. The crow jumped down from her shoulder and stood on the wooden table close to the falcon. He gave a soft caw, then looked up at her, and then back down to the falcon.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I shall fix your new friend. I promise.”

The falcon gazed up at her as did the crow, and she felt a moment’s trepidation for she knew promises were very dangerous things. Things rarely worked out as one thought, as she had told Gordon. But in this? In this, she was certain.

And so she began her work cleaning up the animal, caring for him. Soon he rushed in, bringing in hot water. She bathed the wound, and Gordon began talking to the falcon much like she had.

“You must live, old boy,” he whispered. “You’re very needed. Very needed indeed. This world would be terrible without you in it.”

And she felt her heart break. It was almost as if she could hear the little boy in him. The little boy begging for his parents to stay and not die, not to leave him alone. And she realized that’s exactly, in many ways, what was happening. The falcon had been his friend in a world full of chaos, and danger, and people who let him down, and he was begging beyond all hope for the falcon to live.

“He’s going to stay,” she said firmly, a wave of relief traveling through her as she realized the wound was not the gash she had originally feared.

His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she said.

“Perdita,” he replied, “your optimism is admirable, but in this moment…”

“My optimism is what’s going to keep him alive,” she said. “You watch and you’ll see. Now go,” she said.

“I will not go,” he said. “Not now. I will not abandon him.”

He would not abandon the falcon as he had been abandoned. As he had been left utterly and totally alone as a boy to be raised by servants and apparently uncaring family members. She admired her husband more than anything in that moment for caring so much for an animal, just as she cared for hers.

As soon as she finished her work, she gave a nod. “I must go,” she said. “I’ll collect a box with straw. We shall put him in it and then we shall take very good care of him.”

He nodded tightly. “Thank you, Perdita,” he said. “Thank you for doing all that you can for him.”

She touched his shoulder, eager to embrace him, but he did not turn towards her. As a matter of fact, he did not look towards her at all. His entire body was a mass of pain.

“He will be well. Please,” she said, “do not go backwards.”

He swung his gaze to her, his eyes dark with feeling. “What the devil do you mean by that?”

She licked her lips. “You’ve come so far in just a few days. Do not go back to that small little world you are putting yourself in, where you were so certain that only…”

“What, Perdita?” he cut in. “That the world is hard and dark and lets good things die?”

She swallowed. “I will not argue with you on that point, Gordon,” she said. “But…”

“No.” He gave a tight shake of his head. “You know it too, Perdita. You have just seen far less of it than I.”

She didn’t want to argue with him. Not now. No. He was in pain, and pain could not be reasoned with, nor could fear. She’d been taught that years ago and learned it from her mother. She could only pray. Pray with all her body, heart, and soul that he would open himself again and that he would not completely close himself off.

Tears filled her eyes. “Are you certain you will be alright?”

“Go,” he said. “I will stay with the falcon. Do what needs to be done. I will be forever grateful to you,” he said. “But I was a fool.”

“Why?” she gasped. “You—”

“That’s enough, Perdita,” he said. “I was a fool. No matter what you say, the world is always waiting to swallow the good up. It’s just the nature of it.”

She took a step back, turned slowly, and headed out into the hall, and then tears began to slide down her face. He was the man that she had married, the man that she loved. The man she hoped would be the father of her children, and his view of the world was so entirely unlike hers that her spirits sank, near hopelessness now. She’d thought she could help him to heal himself. She’d thought she could guide him, and oh heaven, what a fool she had been. She could fix animals. She could fix birds and cats and foxes and hedgehogs and even ferrets, but him? He was an entirely different story. Because unlike the animals that she helped, he did not seem to wish to abandon the pain that surrounded him. It was too familiar. It was almost a friend, and how did one pull someone away from a friend?

She only prayed he would not choose that pain over her. But as far as she could see, it seemed like that was exactly what he was doing. For he was determined to see life as dark when she knew that all one had to do with darkness was to fill it with light.