“I am so ashamed,” Kassia whispered, and burrowed her face against Graelam’s arm.
“Don’t be a fool,” he said sharply. “Can you sleep now, Kassia?”
“Aye,” she muttered.
He laid her on her back and drew the covers over her. “I will call you if she worsens,” Graelam said to Etta.
The night was a long one. Kassia awoke every several hours, her belly convulsed with cramps. Graelam forced her to drink, but she could keep nothing down. Finally, toward dawn, she fell into a deep sleep, and he allowed himself to relax.
It was near to noon the next day when Graelam entered to find Kassia awake. The chamber reeked of sickness and he felt nausea rise in his belly at the stench.
“She has drunk some broth, my lord,” Etta said proudly at Kassia’s accomplishment.
“She will not keep it down if she must remain in here,” Graelam said. He strode over to his wife and wrapped her up in blankets. “I am taking her outside. Clean the chamber and open the windows. Burn incense, whatever, just get rid of the stench.”
Graelam carried his wife out of the keep. He ordered Demon saddled.
“What are you going to do with me?” Kassia asked, clutching at Graelam’s sleeve. Now that the cramps were gone, she felt mortified. He had held her whilst she had retched. All night he had cared for her. She wanted to bury her face in his shoulder and never look him in the face again.
“Perhaps I shall toss you over the cliff,” Graelam said, hugging her tightly against his chest.
“I would not blame you,” she sighed. “I have not been a very good wife to you.”
Graelam laughed deeply. “You have not been a wife at all. Now keep your tongue quiet in your mouth.”
He held her in his arms as he guided Demon over the lowered drawbridge. “Breathe deeply, Kassia,” he said.
He rode to the cliff and dismounted, tying Demon to a low juniper bush. He eased himself down against a bowed pine tree and settled Kassia in his lap. “Now,” he said, “you will think about being well again.”
“I am so ashamed,” she said.
“I was also ill. We have both survived. Now, I want you to be quiet and breathe the clean air.”
He felt her burrow trustingly against him, her fist closing about his tunic. He dropped a light kiss on her forehead and leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.
“My lord.”
Graelam opened his eyes and looked up at Guy. He shook away the remnants of sleep.
“It grows late,” Guy said quietly, for Kassia still slumbered.
“I will come soon, Guy.”
“Is she all right?”
“Aye, thank God. Did you speak to the cook? What is that varlet’s name?”
“I gave him—Dayken is his name—the flat of my sword against his fat buttocks! He swears the meat was fresh. I do not understand it. It’s almost as if—” He broke off, shaking his head.
“As if what?”
“Nothing, my lord.”
“If you have something to say, Guy, say it!”
Guy scratched his ear. “I like not that only the two of you fell ill.”
“I like it not either,” Graelam said softly. “The only question is who, Guy?”