Cain looked around the door quietly to check on his father before the night’s festivities. “Do not skulk in the doorway, Lad.” His father muttered, his eyes still closed. How his father had known he was there, he would never know. Cain came in and shut the door. Erik had been standing guard just outside.

“I did not want to wake you.” He said, coming to the chair Erik had been sitting in earlier. Cain moved it closer to the bed and looked his father over. He had been washed and changed into a nightshirt. He certainly looked more comfortable, even if he was out of his armour.

“I was awake anyway,” Regin said, shifting awkwardly to sit up. “Help me, Lad.” He asked, holding out his hand. Cain took his father’s hand and pulled him upright, repositioning the pillow to support him. Finally, in an upright position, Regin sighed, and then he coughed. It took a minute for him to catch his breath, and he dabbed his lips with his handkerchief to wipe away the spot of blood.

“Do you want water? Or something to eat?” Cain offered. “I can have the kitchen bring-”

“No, my stomach is churning. I do not feel up to eating.”

“You must eat something. It has been days. You have to keep your strength up until the witch can find something to make you well.” Cain insisted. His father had been progressively getting worse these past few weeks. He had been getting weaker and thinner. A withered shell of the mighty man he had been not six months ago. He had become too ill, too fragile to survive the harsh trip home. They had been stuck in these cursed waters for far too long.

He had searched the English, Irish, and Scottish coastlines for someone that could help. He had heard of the McGregor witch a few weeks ago, and he held out hope that she had the power to set things right. His father could not die in his bed. Cain would do whatever he could to prevent that from happening. He only hoped she was all the stories claimed she was.

Things went very quiet for a moment. It was an awkward silence, neither one saying what needed to be said. Then Regin spoke. “I am dying, Lad.”

“No, you are not.” Cain refused to accept that. He was not ready to be king. He was a good warrior, he could take orders as well as the next guy, but he was not ready to give them. In the last few months, he had been forced to step in his father’s shoes and command the men while he was too sick even to stand, but Cain was not ready to do it forever. “We found the witch, and she can help. She needs a little time.”

“I do not have much time left. You may need to accept that I may be too sick for help. If I am going to die anyway, I want-”

“You are not going to die,” Cain said, coming to his feet. “And I will hear no more talk to the contrary. Give her time, and she will have you right as rain. We will be sailing home before you know it.” He said, heading for the door. “Would you like me to send in Erik to entertain you, or would you like to sleep?”

“Send the boy in; we will play a game or two,” Regin said as Cain opened the door and stepped into the hall.

Erik was leaning against the wall; he stood up straight when Cain stepped out of the room. “Father would like to play chess.” Erik nodded and went inside to set up the game. Cain took a calming breath and opened the door to Zahra’s chambers. She was seated on the bed when he came in, and she came to her feet, furious. “How dare you let yourself into my chambers. A proper man would knock. I could have been changing.”

“Into what?” She had nothing, what did she assume he should have expected her to be changing into? “You have nothing.”

“That is hardly the point.” She snapped, stomping toward the door.

“Than what is your point?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him. “Never mind. You do not spend much time ‘round women, do you?”

On the contrary, when he was home, he spent much time in the company of the fairer sex. But their women were not such prudes. They were as bad as any man, and he had not thought to knock. After all, she was his prisoner and prisoners did not require courtesy.

“Are you ready?”

“Very much so.” She said, heading for the stairs with Cain right beside her. No matter how fast she walked, Cain managed to keep stride easily. They walked through the castle and past the main hall. Zahra paused as they passed the grand room. The whole place was already decked out with long tables covered in food and mugs of ale. His men were already enjoying themselves and the wiles of the servant girls chosen to entertain them.

She looked appalled by the rowdy sight. She did not approve of their forced interaction. “They were offered the choice.” He assured her.

Zahra shot him a hateful glare. “What choice, assault or death? That is no choice at all.” She continued walking right out the front door. Cain followed Zahra through the town.

They walked through the village quietly, and Cain could feel the eyes of the villagers on them. They hated him, or perhaps they hated her. Of course, it could have been both of them. Zahra barely seemed to notice the accusatory eyes peering from the lit windows as they passed by.

“How far do you live?” He asked as they neared the gates.

“I live on a small farm outside the gates.” She informed him, her pace never faltering.

“Why outside the gates?”

She looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Because the villagers would not let me live inside the walls.”

“Why not?”

“Would you want a witch as your neighbour?”

“Why not? It would be convenient.” Zahra paused as she stared dumbfounded at him. He understood her surprise, in her world, witches were feared, but in his culture, a witch was revered and accepted as an important and productive member of the community. They were conduits to the Gods.

“Witches are considered evil. They have sold their souls to the devil to obtain their unGodly powers.”

“And have you?” He asked as she stared at him.

“Have I what?”

“Sold your soul to the devil?” He asked, watching her reaction closely.

“No, of course not.” She snapped and continued on to the hut he saw fifty feet away. Cain laughed at her efforts to scare him with her wicked ways. The truth was she did not strike him as wicked, despite what her clansmen believed. “What are you laughing at?” She snapped as they reached the door.

“Your attempt to play the wicked witch.”

“How do you know I am not wicked? I could easily place a curse on you.” She said, pushing the door open and going inside.

“Zahra.” An older man inside cried out as she came through the door. “I feared the worst.” He said, hugging her, but when he noticed Cain lurking in the doorway, he stepped a weary step in retreat. “What is this?” The man was too old to be a lover, though he did seem to love her, which probably meant he was kin. He was not too tall and surprisingly thin for a farmer, but then again, at his age, it was possible Zahra did all the work. His hair was white, long and tied back with a leather strip. He wore a light grey tunic under the same highland’s kilt the other men of this clan wore.

“This is Cain, the king of the…” She paused, not sure she wished to finish the thought she had started.

“Barbarians?” Cain snickered. He was not offended. Most cultures viewed them as such, and the truth of the matter was he preferred they fear him. Both Zahra and the older man diverted their gaze from his.

“This is Owen McGregor, my grandfather.” Zahra introduced them. Personally, Cain did not care who he was. He just wanted to get back to the grand hall.

“Be quick about it.” He said without concern for the polite edict.

“What is going on?” Owen asked his granddaughter.

“I will be staying in the manor for some time,” Zahra informed him. He looked worried. “I will be fine.” She assured him.

“Why?”

“Because I told her to.” Cain snapped this was taking too long. They both shot him a nasty glare, but he did not care in the least. “Move it.” Cain stood in the doorway, watching as she lit the candle in the window. There were bowls and jars all over the place. There was dried meat, and plant life hung from the ceiling. Wax and candles scattered across the shelves. It certainly looked like a witch’s hut. He had been inside the witch’s hut back home, and it looked very similar to this one.

“Be patient, or I may cast a spell on you.” She threatened, going about her business. He just scoffed at her attempt to frighten him.

“If that were so, you would have done it by now.” He said, ducking his head and coming inside.

“Perhaps I am just biding my time.” She suggested.

“If you insist.”

Zahra picked up an animal hide sack and began to select things and stuff them inside. “You fear nothing, do you?”

“Not a thing.” He smiled. He had stared into the face of monsters and tyrants; this little witch was nothing.

“What if I did a little dance and chanted a bit?” She was teasing him, he realized. It said something about her character that she could jest in the light of her situation.

“Feel free.” He said, gesturing for her to begin.

Zahra frowned, annoyed that she could not rattle him. She walked over to a chest at the foot of a bed and opened it up. Taking a second sack, she selected some clothes from the chest and placed them in the bag: some dresses and other lady garments. Zahra glanced over at Cain, watching her and gestured with her finger for him to turn around, so he did not see her undergarments as she placed them into the bag.

Cain rolled his eyes. Was she serious? It was not like he had never seen a lady’s undergarments, but he humoured her and turned around. “It is just the two of you?” He asked, noticing only two small straw mattress beds.

“Ever since the villagers burnt my mother at the stake five years ago.”

He could hear the hint of pain in her voice. She was trying to hide it, but she was no good at it. “Why did you stay here?”

“Where would I go?” She said, stuffing the last of her things into her bag. She came over to the door. “None of the other villages would have me.”

Cain had almost lost his mother to illness a few years back, but the old clan witch had cured her. Almost losing her had been his greatest fear but she recovered by the grace of the Gods. He could not imagine losing his mother in the way Zahra had lost hers. He sort-of felt guilty now. He had been so consumed with losing his father and his selfish desire not to be king; he had ignored the lives of others.

“Let me help you.” He offered taking one of the bags.

Zahra handed him the bag and turned to face her grandfather, who looked as sad as she was to see her go. “Be safe, Child. Come back to me, do not make me stand over your grave as well.” Zahra hugged her grandfather and kissed his cheek good-bye, and then she followed Cain out of the hut.

They walked back to the castle in silence. The truth was he did not know what to say, and she seemed lost in her thoughts anyway. Cain walked Zahra up to her new chambers and handed her back the bag as she went inside. He opened his mouth to say something, but she shut the door in his face. Normally he would have been insulted, but tonight he turned and walked away.

Cain spent the rest of the night in the main hall drinking and thinking. He genuinely felt bad. He felt guilty that he was forcing her to save his father when she had been helpless to save her mother. He could not fathom how it must have been to stand there as a child watching her mother burn.

“What vexes you?” Finn asked, noticing Cain was not enjoying himself.

“That blasted witch has me flustered.”

“She is a pretty little thing, is she not?” Finn smiled knowingly. “Perhaps you need some release.”

That brought his goal back to the forefront of his mind. “That reminds me, no one touches the witch. She is off-limits to everyone… at least until my father is well again.”

“For what reason?” Mani asked, vaguely paying attention.

“Because I said so.” Cain snapped. He did not like being questioned. Cain looked out over his men and raised his voice. “And that goes for all. No man touches the witch, or I will have his head.”

“Ignore him, he is drunk,” Finn said, dismissing Mani’s behaviour. “What about the witch troubles you?” Cain did not know what to say. It was all too much to explain. He wished there was something he could do to make things right in her life… and that bothered him. He should not care, and he did not know why he did. What could he do anyway? Let her go? His father would die. Cain looked out over the hall at the serving women refilling mugs and gathering empty plates. Then an idea came to him. It was perfect.

“Where is her Ladyship?”