Chapter Five

U pon waking Sencha found it was hard to breathe, and when she tried to take in more than a small amount of air the result was dry hacking coughs which only made her lungs hurt worse. When she finally managed to pry her eyes open, they burned from the smoke-filled air, but she discovered she was lying on a cot. Tied up and facing a wall that was not well-built as there were slots between the planks of wood, she could make out sunlight and smell the sea air outside.

After another bout of coughing that felt nearly impossible to stop, she wiggled closer to the wall and pushed her mouth and nose between the slots. Sucking in the cleaner air felt like heaven as it eased the pressure in her lungs.

When she could finally manage a breath without choking, her thoughts were clearer sending the signals to her mind to assess the current situation.

Her feet were bound at the ankles and her hands tied securely behind her back. Once again she leaned forward and took in another lungful of air as she curled into a ball so that she could bring her hands to the front instead of behind her back.

Finally she managed to get her hands in front of her, then she began pulling at the rags around her ankles until she was able to loosen them. There was little she could do about the ties on her hands, but she only needed her feet to escape.

Once again the thick smoke made her throat seize and Sencha began coughing whilst looking around frantically attempting to find the front door. When she rushed toward the door her foot hit something on the floor sending her sprawling onto the dirt.

A man was on the floor. He was not bound but was unmoving. Either dead or passed out. The air was somewhat less smokey near the ground and she crawled back to the man, who lay between her and the door.

Upon recognizing the still man, she shook him. “Knox! Wake up!”

He didn’t move sending her heart into a gallop. She pressed her ear to his mouth and was relieved to feel his breath. “Knox,” she repeated, once again pushing her bound hands against his shoulder. “Please wake up.”

Other than a dry cough, he didn’t stir, and Sencha gave up trying to wake him. She’d have to drag him out, there was no other way.

Keeping low to the ground, she half-crawled to the door. Upon reaching the door, she pushed against it, but it didn’t budge. The man who’d attacked her must have blocked it.

It was becoming harder to breathe, and the smoke was giving way to red flames. Sencha whirled when flames lapped through the far wall. She ran to a window, threw it open, and managed to climb out.

Tears streamed down her face, and her eyes burning so badly that she could barely stand to keep them open. Knox was still inside, and she had to save him.

Out of nowhere a boy rushed toward her, his wide eyes taking in the structure.

She tried to speak but a hacking fit ensued. “H-help me… I have to get him out.” Sencha managed between bouts of coughing.

“I can untie ye,” the boy said pulling at the rags that had been used to bind her hands. It took some effort, but finally her wrists fell apart sending tingling sensations up her arms.

Together they managed to pull a heavy rock out of the way. Without hesitating she rushed into the hut, motioning for the lad to remain back. The boy was obviously not about to be told what to do, because he came up beside her and they grabbed the rough fabric across Knox’s shoulders and began tugging him toward the door.

Although skinny, the boy was stronger than he seemed and with his help, they managed to drag Knox out the door just as the roof of the shack collapsed sending the flames and smoke higher into the darkening sky.

Sencha fell sideways onto the dirt coughing and wiping wildly at her stinging eyes.

“Ye are bleeding from yer face,” the boy pointed out.

It was the least of her worries. Knox had yet to wake.

Men came running, most of them screaming out orders to grab buckets to keep the fire from spreading to the other huts.

Both she and Knox were carried to the back of the wagon and a horse was hitched to it. She wasn’t sure, but it may have been the boy who informed them that Knox was the laird’s cousin.

Too exhausted to move, she sat hunched over with Knox’s head on her lap watching all the activity.

A red stain on her skirt made her realize that Knox bled. The hair on the back of his head was matted with drying blood. She wanted to scream for the men to hurry, but her throat didn’t allow for more than a hoarse whisper.

Since no one had asked who’d captured them, she hadn’t volunteered the information. If any of them were in alliance with the man who’d attacked her, they could turn on her and at the moment neither she nor Knox would be able to defend themselves.

When a man walked toward them, Sencha curved protectively around Knox. The man looked at Knox. “He has nae wakened?”

Sencha shook her head. “We must get him to a healer.” Her voice was barely above a hoarse whisper.

“Tom will take ye to the village now,” the man said giving Knox a worried look.

A man on horseback appeared in the distance. By the size of the animal and rider, it was a warhorse and warrior. Sencha wanted to cry as he neared, and she recognized Hendry.

Bringing the horse animal to a stop, Hendry glanced down at Knox. “What happened?”

“Attacked by a man who burned down the shack hoping to kill us,” Sencha managed to say past the soreness of her throat.

Hendry called over to the man who’d climbed onto the bench reins in hand. “To the keep. Fast.”

By the time they crossed into the courtyard at the keep, Sencha was in so much pain she’d stopped trying to be brave and was crying. Not only was her face throbbing from the man’s strikes, but each breath was painful. And she’d scratched both arms and legs whilst climbing out the window.

Her mother and aunt rushed out to the wagon along with several guards, and she was helped down. When trying to stand, she would have crumpled to the ground, if not for a guard catching her.

Hendry swept Sencha up into his arms and carried her into the house. Over his shoulder, she watched as Knox was taken from the back of the wagon and carried past them.

Moments later, Hendry placed her in a small bedchamber on the ground level. The trio of her mother, aunt, and Nala rushed into the room peppering her with questions.

When she began to cry, the questioning turned to soothing.

“Get some hot water and bandages,” Nala instructed. “Ask Cook to boil tea with herbs to help with her pain.”

There were scurrying of feet and other things said, but all Sencha could think about was Knox. What if he never woke? She had no idea who the man was that had attacked her and with all probability Knox as well.

By the way it was hard to see out of her left eye, she figured that side of her face was swollen from the man’s strikes.

Her mother began washing her face, while her aunt did the same with her arms. Nala lingered at her feet, instructing servants to help undress her and wash her legs and feet.

Although her mother did her best to be gentle, each time her face was touched, she gasped at the pain.

“I could not bear to ever lose ye child,” her mother whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. “God knew not to take ye from me. Losing ye would be unbearable.”

Sencha tried to make light of the situation. “Ye would have Athol and his stories of travel.”

When her mother met her gaze, there was profound sadness. “I lost Athol when yer father died. He became another person, refusing to remain here and be part of the family. He feels guilty and until he resolves it, he will remain lost to us.”

Whenever Athol visited, it was always brief. Usually no more than a pair of months, sometimes not even a fortnight. He spoke only of his travels, rarely asking about anyone who lived on Skye.

He’d been with their father on the day of the tragedy. Returning from the village a storm had occurred. A tree had fallen across the wagon, crushing them both. Athol’s leg had been broken and yet he’d tried to free their father from under the tree.

They were found the next morning, Athol passed out and her father dead. It had been a tragedy, but for whatever reason, Athol had persisted that he should have been able to save their father.

Soon after, he’d joined Nala’s brother Belhar at sea.

By the time they’d finished the tasks of cleaning her wounds, the effect of the herbs in the tea had helped to ease the pain.

It was late when the healer finally appeared. The man didn’t speak much and seemed more bothered than concerned, but he was efficient. He had her right wrist bound.

“Ye will have to keep it bound for a fortnight,” the healer stated, his gaze going over the injuries on her face. He must not have found them to need attention as he didn’t do more.

“How is Knox?” Sencha asked, the sound of her voice still hoarse.

The healer looked to Nala as if for permission to speak. When she nodded, he replied, “He has yet to regain consciousness. With an injury to the head, one cannae predict what the outcome will be. Someone is to be with him constantly so as to alert me when he awakens.”

The herbs must have taken effect, because when Sencha next opened her eyes it was dark outside. In the bedchamber the only light came from the feeble fire in the hearth. Obviously everyone had gone to bed, and she was glad for it as her mother and aunt had planned to remain in constant vigil over her for hours.

No one had come to ask about the attacker. Nala must have instructed that she was not to be bothered. Perhaps the boy or one of the other fishermen had known who the shack belonged to and had informed the laird.

Her mind turned to Knox. He’d been so still, his body without life or movement. Had the smoke caused more damage to his already badly injured head?

If only she’d not gone alone to the fishing village. Despite the dangerous man attacking her and being the one who’d caused injury, perhaps it would not have happened if she’d not gone there.

Had Knox gone to the shoreline to search for her? Would he have gone anyway as part of his quest to find witnesses?

The only person who knew for sure was him and perhaps Hendry. She’d have to speak to him the next morning.

A thought occurred and she lifted a bandaged hand to her mouth. Her uncle’s trial. Had it happened yet? She’d not thought to ask her aunt.

Surely if the trial had occurred and the result had been bad, her aunt would have been overly distraught and that had not been the case.

Morning could not get around fast enough, there were so many questions she needed answers to.

Unable to settle, she sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Her chest ached from the activity, but it wasn’t as painful as before.

Gingerly she lowered her feet to the floor, the stones were cold, but not too bothersome. Sencha reached for a robe left by Nala if she were to guess.

Once she donned the robe, she made her way slowly to the door and opened it.

The corridor was empty, the only light came from a lantern on a small shelf. It was enough for her to see there were two other doors and nothing more.

She went from the room, keeping a hand on the wall for balance as she made her way to the first door. Slowly as to not awaken whoever was inside, she cracked the door open and peeked in.

A thick muscled man sat in a chair, his gaze on the fire. On the bed was Knox, who looked to be asleep. The guard must have sensed her because he turned and looked to the doorway.

“I want…need to see how he fares,” Sencha whispered.

The man motioned her forward. “He has yet to wake.” He stood and stretched. “I am Torrance. If ye will remain a few moments, I must go fetch something and return shortly.”

Sencha guessed the man needed to relieve himself. “Aye, of course. Take yer time.”

The man hurried from the room, and she hobbled to the side of the bed lowering to sit on it.

Several strands of thick burnished hair fell over Knox’s brow, and she brushed them aside. Despite his handsome features, even in repose he was an intimidating warrior.

His eyelids flickered and Sencha bent to get a closer look. “Knox. Can ye hear me?” she whispered.

The movement happened again, and he coughed. “All is well. Ye are back in the keep,” Sencha said. “Ye were attacked, and he burned the shack both of us were trapped in.”

This time he let out a soft groan.

Remembering how horribly thirsty she’d been upon leaving the burning shack, Sencha reached for the pitcher on the bedside table and poured the liquid into a cup. Gently she lifted Knox’s head and dribbled some past his parted lips.

He swallowed giving her incentive to continue to pour small amounts into his mouth. Finally, he turned his head away signaling he’d had his fill.

“Fetch Alex.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“It is late at night. We can get him in the morning,” Sencha told him while brushing his hair back away from his face. Although unnecessary, she needed to keep touching him, to ensure he was indeed alive and now awake.

The guard finally returned, and Sencha looked over her shoulder at him. “He is awake. Does the healer wish to be called?”

As if it needed verification, the guard neared the bed. “Knox?”

Knox coughed and nodded.

The man walked out and left them alone again. Sencha pressed a gentle kiss to Knox’s brow. “I am so glad ye woke. Everyone has been so worried.”

Finally his eyes opened and met hers. When they widened, Sencha knew he could make out her injuries despite the dimness of the room.

“What happened?”

She flinched thinking of the sight she must be. “The man who attacked ye, had already bound me and put me in the shack which he later set on fire.”

“He is called Kyle.”

A disheveled healer burst into the room, behind him a sleepy young man who Sencha supposed was his assistant.

He stopped abruptly at seeing Sencha. “Ye should nae be out of bed.” Looking to his assistant, he motioned with his hand toward the door. “Help her back to her chamber.”

Left with no choice, Sencha stood and looked down at Knox, but his eyes were closed again.