“Uncle went out to the neighbors to see about barterin’ a few things. The Allens have always been friendly to us. They swear they dinnae ken what happened, but when uncle came back, there was an arrow in his arm, his face was pale, and he looked like death.”
“Where is he now?” Elena asked as she gripped tightly to Isobel’s arms.
“Wit’ the healer,” Isobel answered. Elena took off through the front doors of the castle and raced to the healer’s workshop. She skidded to a stop the moment she reached the doorway. Her eyes widened as she peered into the room.
“If yer here for news, there isnae any,” the healer grumbled as Elena spied him hovering over her uncle’s body.
“I’ve come to help,” Elena said as she slowly entered the room. The harsh smells of burnt herbs wrinkled her nose and turned her stomach. As she inched closer to her uncle, the healer’s beady eyes narrowed.
“And what is it ye think ye can do for him that I cannae? Huh?” The old man snapped as he toiled over her uncle.
“Whatever it is ye need me to do,” Elena said. “What kind of poison is it?”
“If I kenned, I’d have him healed by now,” the healer gruffed. “Now yer wastin’ my time. The longer I chat wit’ ye the less time I have wit’ yer uncle. I suggest ye go and spend yer time in prayer.”
“I can help,” Elena said as she rolled up her sleeves. She lifted her head and scanned the wound as the healer pulled back the long brown leaves he placed over the gaping wound.
“Are ye usin’ willow bark?” Elena asked, inching closer still, refusing to let her uncle just die. Although she had every reason not to like the man, he was the closest thing she had left to a father in her life. As she spied his colorless face, her heart broke.
“Of course,” the healer said. “Any other silly questions, go ask them to the others and let me work.”
“Have ye tried to blend the willow with lavender and orange peel? The healin’ properties in the peel will boost the healing while the lavender might draw out the poisons.”
The healer looked up from his work with his eyebrow arched. His lips twitched as he stared at her a moment.
“Orange peel, ye say? That is one I havenae tried,” he said as he swallowed hard. Elena stood still a moment, watching the way he mulled over his thoughts.
“Fetch some from the kitchen,” he said finally. “At this point I’ll try anythin’.”
Elena gave a swift nod and turned on her heels. She rushed out of the room quickly and darted down to the cellar. While she gulped for air, she knew by the color of her uncle’s face they were on borrowed time.
“What is it?” Iona asked as she met Elena in the cellar.
“It’s nae good, uncle is barely holdin’ on. I need orange peel. Do we have some down here?”
“Yer uncle loves the fruit, when he can find it. I think ye’ll have better luck in his chambers. He always stashes his goods in the chest near his desk.”
Elena smiled at her mother before scurrying to her uncle’s room. The moment she found his door, she paused. In all her years living in the castle, it was the one room she never entered. Pulling in a long deep breath, she pushed through the door.
The room was dark and uninviting. Everything about it screamed for her to get out. But she was on a mission. Scouring through her uncle’s things, she found the small chest just where her mother told her it would be. Prying the lid open, her eyes widened. The oranges lingering in the darkness looked as if they were dried out and old. She wondered how long they had been in there. Clearly, they didn’t take well to the Scottish humidity.
Reaching in, she plucked one from the lot. The smell of citrus was overwhelming. Although it smelled like spring, the fruit was spoiled. Crinkling her nose, she held the fruit in her hand as if it were the Holy Grail and made her way back to the healer.
“I have the fruit,” she said, placing the orange on the table. The healer shook his head and dropped his shoulders on seeing it.
“That will nae do, it’s spoiled,” he grumbled.
“It is all we have, there was nay other ripe one for me to choose from.”
“I cannae use it. What if it makes the poison spread faster and I am to blame for his death?”
“I absolve ye of that burden,” Elena said. “Darragh is my blood and my family. If anythin’ happens from this concoction, put the blame on me.”
The old man licked his lips a moment as a small moan escaped Darragh’s lips. “Get to work. Make a paste of it. I daenae think anythin’ we do now will matter.”
Although the healer was right, Elena wasn’t about to give up on her uncle so soon. She started her work, peeling and grinding the ingredients together. To her surprise, the rind of the fruit still had the zest which sprayed out at her as she ground it down into the lavender.
“It’s done,” Elena said as she brought the bowl over to her uncle. The healer pulled back the damp brown leaves. From what Elena could see, the wound was deeper than she thought. Black veins stretched out from the wound like vines. Holding her breath, she began applying the ointment to the wound.