James paced back and forth in the kitchen, waiting for news from the birthing room. They had been in there for more than an hour with no indication of how the delivery progressed. It was too early for the child to make an appearance and Eva was young and tiny. Without experienced help, James feared the worst. And he had dragged Katrine into this mess.
As the sun sent the first few rays through the kitchen window, James decided he couldn’t wait any longer. He wrenched open the kitchen door only to find Katrine standing outside. The magnificent silver that habitually lit her eyes was dulled by exhaustion and something more. Her shoulders were slumped, and blood stained her tunic.
He drew her into the kitchen and pushed her into a chair, kneeling before her.
“What happened? The babe?”
“Is dead.” Her voice was dull, and she sat with her head in her hands.
James placed his hand on her shoulder. She flinched away.
“Why did you bring me here?” Her accusing gaze was upon him. “There was nothing I could do.”
“I had no one else to turn to,” James protested, forcing himself to meet her eye.
“You could have been there for her yourself,” she snapped back. “After all, she is your maid, and you have taken responsibility for her.”
“How would it appear if I was present? The birthing room is no place for a man!”
“Coward!”
James surged to his feet. “Now see here! I’ve never shirked my duty.” A small voice asked him about the duty he had to his parents, but he shook it off. “I’ve done all I can for Eva.”
Katrine threaded shaking fingers through her hair. “You have no idea what it cost me to be there. I had to try and breathe life into the babe when I have no skill.”
James stared, understanding the base of Katrine’s anger. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”
“I failed, and I will never know if it was my fault. Perhaps there was never any hope for the babe, but I cannot be sure.”
“Katrine,” James held her hands tight, even though she tried to wrench them from his grasp. “I am truly sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you. Of course, it goes without saying that I’ll continue to care for Eva. She will always be welcome here.”
“I want you to take me home.”
“Of course. I’ll get you something to eat while I check on Eva and prepare the trap.” James crossed to the fire where a kettle was boiling and made a pot of tea. He delivered a steaming mug to Katrine along with a thick slab of fresh buttered bread and honey. He left the kitchen, her accusation every bit as forceful as the stinging slap she had delivered to him only two days ago.
Kat sat on a cushion in front of the fireplace in her room. She had been there all day since returning from James’s mansion. He must have explained what had happened, for Harah had delivered two meals during the day, patted her shoulder, and left without a word. There were no words to fix what was broken inside her. She told herself all day that time would lessen her grief at the death of Eva’s daughter, but only a small part of her believed it. How could she ever forget the feel of the small body in her arms—or the weight of the responsibility? Failure was too insignificant a word for what had transpired in that room.
How could she ever get past this? There was nothing she had been taught that would help. I wish Hetty was here. The old witch knew so much about life. She had been her savior after the events in the Crystal Cave when Kat almost had the life burned out of her. Her magical powers were greatly enhanced by the experience, but so was her melancholy. And magic wouldn’t help her in this situation. It hadn’t helped with the birth of the child. I should have been able to summon a spell that would start that tiny heart!
Hetty…she might be able to help, and it was some time since Kat had contacted her. A desperate longing to speak to her friend and mentor now drove Kat to the wood stack in the corner. She built up the fire until it was roaring and sat before it, eyes closed. In her mind, she built an image of Hetty, feature by feature. Kat smiled at the familiar scowl the old woman often presented to the world—and to her.
“What is the meaning of this interruption, child?”
Kat’s eyes flew open. Hetty’s image danced before her in the flames. She was none too happy, and Kat noticed changes that caused a spike of fear in her gut.
“I wanted to see you again, speak to you,” she said, ashamed of her wavering voice.
“You might have chosen a better time! I am in my bed!”
Disturbing indeed when Hetty normally kept hours like an owl. The witch shoved a skeletal hand through her wild, wispy hair. She has lost so much weight!
“I…” How to ask the myriad of questions that rushed to mind?
“Spit it out, Kat! You look as though a ghost has walked over your grave.”
Kat flinched at the mention of ghosts and graves, and Hetty’s sharp eyes noticed.
“Is there something wrong with your sister? Your mother?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that. I have had…a difficult night…and I wanted to talk it over with you. But I see you aren’t well. What’s wrong?”
Hetty opened her mouth to speak, but a hacking cough robbed her of her words. When she finished, she lay back on her pillow, her chest rising and falling at an alarming rate. “Give me a moment to catch my breath, child.”
Kat’s body began to shake. Hetty was ill with no one to take care of her. What if she should die? The old witch was tough, but Kat had never seen her sick before, let alone bed ridden.
“I have a little cold, that’s all. Don’t fret, I’ll soon be right as rain. I just need my rest.”
“And I am disturbing it. I’m sorry, Hetty, I would never wish to do you harm.”
“Don’t listen to the crotchety comments of an old woman, child. Tell me, what’s the matter?”
Kat drew a deep breath and explained everything that had happened over the last few days, ending with the death of the babe. She also explained her deepest fears.
“You know I have this terrible melancholy inside me since the Crystal Cave, Hetty. Nothing I do will shift it. I have no joy in life, I merely try to keep moving from one chore to another. If I keep busy, it’s better. Now I fear even being busy will be no help.”
“My poor girl,” Hetty said, her dark eyes softer than Kat had ever seen them. “The babe—that is the circle of life. We are born, and we die. The child’s lungs weren’t ready to breathe. There was nothing even the most skilled midwife could have done to save her—nothing the strongest spell could have changed. You must accept the will of the Goddess. But I’m not saying it will be easy.” Hetty settled back on the pillow again, eyes closed.
“Hetty?” Kat’s voice rose and she struggled to bring it back under control. “Are you well?”
“A moment, child,” she wheezed. “…need to catch my breath again.”
It was worse than Kat had thought. Hetty was never short of breath.
“The night hound,” Hetty said at last, her hand rubbing her breast bone. “That’s serious. It may have been drawn to your magic. I haven’t heard of them for at least fifty years. You need to take care. Try not to use sorcery, and, if you do, invert the spell to lower the chance of detection. You remember how to do that, don’t you?”
Kat nodded. “Of course, but I never practice it.”
“Well, get it straight in your mind how you do it. But, whatever you do, don’t practice it now. If I’m right, it could draw every night hound for thirty miles.” Each short sentence sucked more life from her. She drew a deep breath that had her hacking up again.
“Your melancholy will pass,” Hetty said. “Don’t surrender to it.” She coughed again then wiped her mouth with a handkerchief. “You need people around you. Who is your closest friend?”
Kat had to think about the question. “Esta, my sister.”
“Who else?”
“My mother?”
“Do you have a man?” Hetty’s voice was hoarse. Kat could hardly hear her now.
“Of course not!” I don’t need a man.
“A pity, child. A man can come in dashed handy at times.”
Kat didn’t believe what she was hearing. “You don’t have a fellow, Hetty. How have you managed?”
“You know me not at all, Katrine. I’ve had more than my share of men and outlived them all. There have been hard times, and, but for the support of friends, I wouldn’t be here speaking to you now.”
Kat couldn’t think how to respond to those statements which seemed irrelevant to her right in that moment. She experienced an aching sadness for Hetty though, all alone in her sickness. “I will think on what you have said—and I’m coming to look after you.”
Hetty’s eyes widened in alarm, and a massive coughing fit seized her. Kat looked on, helpless to do anything and mortified she had caused this distress.
When the old woman’s coughing subsided, she sat up in bed, her hand outstretched. “You must promise me not to come, child. It’s too dangerous.”
“Hetty—”
“Promise! I can’t lie here worrying about you on the road with elves, and night hounds, and the Goddess only knows what dangers. I remember how impulsive you are. Do not come to Brightcastle!”
Kat was again lost for words. She could not sit here in comfort when her friend might be dying. But Hetty wouldn’t rest if she thought Kat was risking herself. She would have to lie and make it damned convincing.
“If you are certain you are on the mend, I promise. But only if you are certain.”
“I am on the mend, child. I’ve looked after myself since before you were born. Stay where you are, and I can rest quietly knowing you are safe.”
Kat didn’t like to lie to Hetty, however, in this case, she had no choice. “Very well. Please get well soon. I promise to hold all your advice close to my heart.” And I will be at your bedside as soon as is humanly possible.
Hetty’s image faded from the flames, and a shiver ran up Kat’s spine. The room was suddenly frigid without the old woman’s company.
Kat got up from the fireplace, fetched her saddlebags, and began stuffing her clothes into them.