Page 5 of Curse of the Healer
I glanced at the wolf, knowing I should be afraid of the hulking beast, but I owed it my life. “Thank you,” I said as a wave of exhaustion came over me.
As though he could read my mind, Wilhelm scooped me up in his arms, allowing me to rest my head against his broad chest. My cheeks went hot when I felt the hard, ridged muscles beneath his shirt.
“Come, I will take you to my home,” Wilhelm said, “and guard you until sunrise. Your abductors might come again when they realized they failed.”
I blinked against the sleep that threatened to consume me, despite my late afternoon nap. "There were only two of them," I protested.
"I will explain in the morning, Talia," Wilhelm murmured. "I think I know what's happening to you. And I believe I can help."
I wanted to snort with laughter as Wilhelm carried me through the forest. How could he know? Even I didn't know why the babies died, while life evaporated from my fingertips instead of the hale and happiness that should have happened. Grandma said I had the gift, and yet on the night of Mabon, everything had changed. Death came out of me instead of life. And then the creatures of the forest choose to kidnap me. Why? Suddenly the loss of my magic and the kidnapping did not seem like a coincidence.
Chapter 7
The crackle of flames licking up firewood woke me in the morning. I opened my eyes, taking in the unfamiliar room and the cool light that streamed in from the window. My mind was clear, sharp with clarity, and I realized for the first time in a long time, I hadn't drunk myself to sleep. I lay on my back, a blanket pulled up to my chin. My ankles throbbed, as did my wrists. When I glanced at the rope welts on them, last night came flooding back with hints of panic, embarrassment and then relief.
I was at Wilhelm’s house, in his room, in his bed! The door to the room was ajar, and it was silent out there. I recalled that he’d taken some blankets and created a pallet on the floor in front of the fire, assuring me he was used to sleeping with only a bedroll. Still, knowing I’d stayed at his home sent shivers of desire up my spine. If only the villagers knew I’d spent the night at an unwed man’s house, I would be further shamed for allowing myself to be taken advantage of. Rules. There were so many rules in the village. In a short space of time, I'd gone from a well-known healer to nothing more than a drunk. Perhaps they would add whore to the list.
What the villagers thought did not matter though. Not anymore. Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I stretched my sore limbs and rose. There was a cup of water by the bedside, and I took a long draught. After last night’s events, it seemed I could not drink enough to quench my thirst. My black hair hung in wild curls past my shoulders, still tangled from the chaos of last night. Using my fingers, I detangled them as best I could then twisted my hair back.
Some women in the village wore hats on their heads, so as not to distract men with the shine of their hair. My wild curls were unmanageable, and I either left them to hang loose or wore a braid to be more demure. But at Wilhelm’s house, I was unsure what my behavior should be. More like the women in the village? Although it was hopeless that he should want me as a lover. We were of a similar age, and a man who wanted a wife had one by now.
Perhaps—despite all his strength and muscle—he was in love with someone else. Someone unattainable. Frustrated at the thought, I crept out of the bedroom into the main room. It was dark when we’d returned, and I’d fallen asleep quickly, thankful to be safe and exhausted by the events of the evening. Now, I had a chance to study Wilhelm’s home. Most cottages were one room—which helped keep the warmth during the winter—but his was larger.
The fireplace took up one wall, lined from floor to ceiling with stones like a room out of an ancient castle. The opening for the fire was set a few feet off the ground and large enough for a child to crawl inside—if they could reach it. It was at the perfect height for cooking without bending over too far. Wilhelm’s pallet lay before the fire—although he was not lying on it—and there was wood stacked up on either side, drying. A warm glow came from those stones and I marveled at the warmth and comfort of the woodcutter’s home.
A round wood table sat in the middle of the room with a husk of bread, a jar of water or perhaps wine, a knife, a few plates and cups on it. But my eyes were drawn to the shelves beside the solid oak door, for on it were Wilhelm’s weapons. A knife, his axe—that I hadn’t recalled him retrieving the evening before—a quiver of black-feathered arrows and a bow. He was a hunter as well as a woodcutter as was apparent from the skins hanging from the rafters on one side of the room. On the other side of the room hung vegetables and dried meats, a collection of stores for the winter. Past the hanging food was a basin and a window.
Wilhelm stood before the window, washing his face and hands. His shirt was off, draped over one shoulder, and I paused, my eyes inexplicably drawn to the lines of muscle on his back and arms. The way his pants slung low on his hips. A sigh escaped my lips.
The noise made him turn. “Talia,” Wilhelm wiped his hands and tugged on his shirt, his mouth open in a yawn as he did so. “Did you rest well?”
A smile touched my lips and my breath caught in my throat as I met his forest-green gaze. An unruly curl tumbled across my forehead, and I swept it back. “I did, although taking your bed is a poor thanks for what you did for me last night.”
I meant my words to bring a smile, but instead his expression turned serious, as though he were working up the courage to tell me something awful. Suddenly fear beat a pitter-patter in my heart and my attempt at light-heartedness faded like the sun on a stormy day. I bit my lower lip and twisted my fingers together. Was he worried about his reputation?
“Is something wrong?"
Wilhelm sighed and opened the cupboard, taking out a slab of cheese and a knife. “I would speak openly with you, Mistress Talia,” he moved toward the table, although his eyes held mine the entire time. He placed the cheese on the cutting board and sliced great slabs of bread, placing each on a plate which he set before the fire.
I twisted my wild curls through my fingers in discomfort as I watched the cheese melt in front of the flame. I was an inconvenience. I should leave before my situation grew even more uncomfortable.
When the cheese was melted, Wilhelm returned the plates to the table and took a seat. "Will you sit with me?" He gestured to the chair opposite him.
I bit my lip as I sat, my heart beating in my chest like a child in trouble. Concern rode me, even though the scent of cheese and bread made my stomach growl with hunger. This was much better food than the mushy gruel I served myself each morning.
Wilhelm poured two cups of water and sat one before me. "I hope my words will not frighten you."
I was relieved to see there was a gentleness in his eyes, a kindness there, but no pity. Maybe I'd misread him.
I took a bite of bread and cheese, and warmth swept through me, restoring my courage. “I will listen, please, go on. Last night you claimed that you know what happened to me."
"I believe I do," he agreed, ducking his chin.
He rested his calloused hands on the table. Tempting. I wanted to reach over and grip those powerful hands with my own, full well knowing their warmth would make me feel safe and secure. Instead, I forced myself to keep eating.
"You know me as Wilhelm the Woodcutter," he began. "Which is true. I do live in the village, but I spend my time between here and the enchanted wildwood. You know as well as I do that the Dark Queen ruled the wildwood, requiring sacrifices to fuel her magic in exchange for protection. Until the night of Mabon.”
Night of Mabon. A wail shot through my memory at his words, and once again I was back at the manor house, the scent of blood and bile thick in the air, and the child, slick with its mother's blood lying limp in my hands. Tears glistened at my eyes as I blinked away the memory. I tried to wipe my tears away without Wilhelm noticing, but his dark eyes were gazing at me, an unreadable expression on his face.
