Page 19 of MacAlister's Hope
“I will do everything I can for her, Symon, I promise you that.”
“I ken it well, Imp. My Mairi is in there with her, too. Be strong for her, for both of them.”
Fia nodded, the memory of Elena’s vigil by Fia’s mother’s birthing bed slamming through her.
“When you know what you need,” Symon continued, “tell me and I will see it brought to you immediately.” He hugged her again.
Before Fia could open the door she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Kieron standing there. She had been so focused on Elena and Symon she had not realized that he had followed her into the tower.
“Take this,” he said, folding the pouch that held the Winter Stone into her hand. “Use it as you did for my chief. I know you can help her.”
Fia’s eyes welled at the faith he had in her. She rose up onto her toes and kissed him quickly. “My thanks,” she said quietly. “Will you wait for me? Please? I would say goodbye before you leave.” She knew her voice quavered but there was nothing to be done about that.
“I will not leave this corridor until I see you again,” he said.
She managed a smile, relieved that she did not have to say goodbye yet, then slipped into Elena’s chamber.
Chapter Ten
Kieron should never have promised Fia that he would stay in this corridor, this tiny space crowded by a large warrior sick with worry. Kieron tried not to pace. Hell, he tried not to breathe. The last thing he wanted was to draw the attention of Symon.
Ever since Fia had disappeared into Elena’s chamber, the man had been stalking back and forth in front of the door. It seemed like days had passed, but Kieron knew it was more likely only a few hours. The murmuring of women’s calm voices could be heard, like the cooing of doves in the cote on a summer’s evening, but every now and again a cry of pain would punctuate the murmur and Symon would whirl toward the door from wherever his pacing had carried him, and stand as he did now, one palm against the door, the other fisted by his side. He rested his forehead next to his palm and Kieron could hear whispering from the man, like prayers, weaving through the women’s murmurs.
A pale-haired lass of seven or eight peeked around the corner of the landing, near Kieron. Her eyes grew big as a loud guttural moan came from Elena’s chamber, and Symon growled, “God’s bones, make it end!”
“Is she dying?” the lass whispered to Kieron, though she did not take her eyes off Symon at the far end of the hallway. Tears trembled on her pale lashes, but she blinked rapidly as if to keep them from falling.
“Nay, lass,” Kieron said, the need to comfort someone finally finding an outlet. He went down on one knee in front of her so he would seem less imposing, less scary. He took one of her tiny hands in his to draw her attention away from her chief. “My grandmum says some bairns take a long time to come into the world, and others are quick. This one is in no hurry.” He smiled at the girl and she nodded, her eyes fixed on his now, as if he was the only safe place to look.
“I was sent to see if the MacLachlan would like a meal brought up,” she whispered with a childish lisp.
Kieron glanced back over his shoulder and found the man in question scowling at the two of them. So much for not drawing his attention.
“I think ale would be good,” he said to the lass. “I do not think he is of a mood to eat just now. Would you bring enough for me, too?” She nodded once, then she blanched as her gaze raised, fixing on something…or someone… behind Kieron. “Go quickly now. Your chief is thirsty.”
She spun without another word or look and disappeared down the stairs as if the Devil were on her heels.
“’Twould seem you have a soft heart for wee lasses with pale hair.”
Kieron rose slowly, not wishing to startle the agitated man who stood behind him. He turned.
“I do not like seeing anyone afraid,” Kieron said, keeping his voice pitched low and calm, “wee lasses or braw men.”
The man glared at him for long moments. Another groan sounded down the hall from Elena and Symon closed his eyes as if he shared the pain with his wife.
“Fia will do everything she can for your lady.”
Symon’s eyes popped open. “I ken that, but Fia does not have Elena’s healing gift.”
Kieron bobbed his head. “But your daughter Mairi does, aye? And Fia can help her if Mairi must use it?”
“Elena will not let Mairi use it. She is afraid for her. She is afraid for Fia, too. Elena almost died trying to save her own mother in childbirth. Fia lost her mother in childbirth, too, in spite of my Elena’s gift.” He stabbed his fingers through his hair, pulling it harshly back from his face. “Elena is too stubborn for her own good in this.”
“I think you underestimate Fia,” Kieron said. “She will do whatever needs doing to help Elena.”
“She will not gainsay Elena, though,” Symon said as he paced back to the door.
Irritation crawled over Kieron, so he followed Symon down the corridor. “Fia will do whatever is necessary, even if that means marshaling Mairi’s gift, or going against Elena’s wishes.”
