A knock at the door woke Zahra from her sleep. She rolled over to see the morning light filtering through the shudders. She had overslept. It was most likely Cain at the door demanding to know why she was not with his father. There was another knock, and Zahra crawled out of bed. She took a robe from the wardrobe and wrapped it tight around her as she walked to the door. Again, there came a knock.

“I am coming.” She snarled, still tired. Zahra opened the door and was surprised to see Madison McGregor glaring back at her. She was dressed in a chambermaid’s dress, and in her hands, she carried a tray with fresh eggs, sausage, chilled milk, and cut fruit. “What is this?”

“The morning meal,” Madison grumbled as she came inside and placed the tray on the table. Zahra looked out into the hall to see Erik standing guard with a wide smile and a good morning nod.

Zahra shut the door and came to the table. “Is this for me?”

“Well, it is not for the rats.” Madison snapped, annoyed by the role reversal she found herself in. “Will there be anything else… My Lady?” She barely got the question out through clenched teeth. Madison was there to serve her, a discovery that held a certain appeal. She had to do whatever Zahra wanted.

Zahra took a seat at the table and picked up her fork thoughtfully. What could she make Madison do? “I think I should like a bath. Be a dear and fetch me some warm water.” She instructed, taking a bite of her eggs.

Zahra enjoyed her meal as she watched Madison lug in one bucket after another of hot water to fill the tub. It was hard work, and Zahra loved every minute of it. Once the task was finished, Madison made to leave, and Zahra waited until she was at the door. “Madison, you have forgotten something.”

“What?”

Zahra nodded toward the vanity. “I am thinking lilac.” She watched with an evil smile as Madison retrieved the oil bottle from the table and poured it into the bathwater.

“Will there be anything else?” She asked with bitter resentment. Unfortunately, Zahra could not think of anything else to make her do.

“You may go.” She dismissed the former Lady.

Madison closed the door behind her as she left. Zahra finished her meal and then walked over to the tub, putting her hand into the warm water. It smelled heavenly. Zahra undressed and stepped into the tub, sinking low into the water. She rested her head back against the iron tub and closed her eyes, enjoying the way the warm water wrapped around her. The smell of lilac filled her senses.

It was all so wonderful Zahra had lost herself in the feel of it losing track of time. When she opened her eyes, she saw Cain looking down at her. Zahra screamed and jumped to her feet, snatching up the robe on the chair next to the tub. She quickly wrapped it around herself, the hem floating in the water. The silk clung to her wet skin, doing little to hide her figure from his gaze. Her soaking hair dripped down her back and over her shoulders.

She had not heard him come in. The man moved with skilled stealth. A handy trait for the battlefield but terribly annoying for proper interaction between a man and a woman. “Do you not understand the concept of knocking?” She snarled, stepping out of the tub.

“I came to see why you are not yet at my father’s side, but I can see you are enjoying my gift.” He said, watching her walk to the vanity. She could feel his eyes raking over her, undressing her. It should have shocked and horrified her, but the heated look in his bright eyes sort of excited her.

“So, it is you I have to thank for this charming morning?” Zahra sat down at the vanity and picked up the comb dragging it through her long hair, trying to ignore the way he looked at her, but she could not help watching him through the looking glass.

“Is she not satisfactory? I can assign another if you like.”

“She is fine; thank you. Now, if you will leave, I will dress for the day and tend to my duties.” His gaze raked over her once more, and then he gave her a polite nod and left the room. Cain was oddly accommodating this morning; it was hard to remember he presently held her captive to do his bidding.

Zahra finished combing her hair and then got dressed. Once she was ready for the day, she made her way to Regin’s chambers. She knocked first and went inside to find the older man sitting up in bed. He looked miserable, and why not? He was dying after all. Cain sat next to the bed and rose when Zahra came in.

“Father, this is the wi-” He paused, catching himself and corrected his introduction. “Zahra, she is here to help.”

“And just how will she do that?” Regin grumbled bitterly. Zahra’s back stiffened, trying not to take his grumbling personally. He was dying; he had the right to be bitter.

“Father,” Cain said with a stern glare.

“Do not sass me, Boy,” Regin warned. “Look, Zahra, I am an old man, and I do not want your witchcraft. What I want is my armour and my sword. Point me to a fight.”

“You are in no condition to fight,” Cain said firmly. Regin grumbled and fussed with his nightshirt.

“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do. I am still King.”

“Perhaps we should start simple,” Zahra suggested. “Something to eat?”

“I am not hungry. I am nauseous.” Regin began to cough violently, his whole body shaking as he brought up a disturbing amount of blood.

“You have not eaten in days. You must have something,” Cain argued.

“I must do nothing.”

Zahra smiled sweetly at the older man. “I have a very special stew I can make that will make you feel so much better. I can even reduce the coughing if you will bear with me and eat something. If it does not work, you may refuse the next one I offer.”

“I am King, Dear Girl; I do not make bargains with women.”

“I understand you are fearful-”

Regin’s eyes widened with the very suggestion that he was afraid. His Nordic pride at risk. “I fear nothing. I will eat your wretched stew, Wench.”

Zahra curtsied respectfully and left the chambers to fetch the roots, fungi, and herbs she would need from the things she brought back from her hut. Zahra did not have too much left; she would need to spend the afternoon in the woods to replenish her supply.

When Zahra reached the kitchen, the other servants left the room. They did not want to be around her. They blamed her for bringing the barbarian hoard to McGregor. Of course, no one considered the fact that she was the only reason they had not killed everyone. Not that she would have cared had they. These people had murdered her mother and tried to kill her. They could all go to the devil for all she cared.

Alone Zahra set to work with Erik watching from the doorway. She took a knife from the chopping block and minced up the mushrooms and roots. She kept it all small and easy to swallow. She brewed some water and some leftover meat stalk in the pot over the fire, adding a few different herbs as she went. Once the pot was boiling, she added the minced roots and mushrooms. Taking the wooden spoon, she kept stirring the stew to keep it from burning. She hummed a little song while she went about her task. It smelled mouthwatering; she was sure Regin would enjoy it.

“Clever little witch.” Zahra looked up to see Cain coming into the kitchen. “Goading the old man by playing to his pride… cunning. I underestimated you.”

“High praise.” She smiled.

Cain sauntered across the kitchen and looked into the boiling pot. “Your witch’s brew smells inviting. I suppose it must, or you could never con people into eating it.”

“I do not need to con anyone.” She said, crossing to a wine barrel. She took a mug from the shelf and filled it with wine. Then she took a pot of honey from the shelf and diligently mixed the honey into the wine.

“What is that for?”

“Tell me, Cain, do you intend to question everything I do?” She asked, placing the mug of honey wine on a wooden tray. She returned to the pot and removed it from the fire. Zahra poured a generous amount into a bowel and placed it on the tray.

“I like to keep informed. What is in the stew?”

“Do you fear I might poison him?” She asked, picking up the tray and heading for the stairs. Erik stepped aside to let them pass.

“I do not think I have to tell you how bad an idea that would be. His life and yours are entwined.” He warned, following her up the stairs.

“Yes, of course, everyone wants to kill the witch.” She rolled her eyes just once it would be nice to know someone that did not want to end her.

“You have me all wrong; I do not wish to kill you. It is just that death is a powerful motivator for cooperation.”

“Death is the motivation?” She scoffed.

“The best there is.”

“It is unnecessary.”

Cain just laughed. “I suppose you would have helped me had I not threatened you?”

“You just had to ask.” Cain lifted a pale brow in disbelief. He was not buying it. If Zahra was, to be honest, he was probably correct. Had he come to her door and asked, she would have turned him away, insisting that she was no witch. She could not work miracles. Were her life not in jeopardy, she would not be here now. “Ok, maybe not.”

“See, motivation.”

Zahra paused on the step and looked back at Cain, who stood on the step below hers, bringing them eye to eye. “So, tell me what motivates you?”

“Infamy.” He said proudly. “Notoriety. When I am dead and gone, I will live on in the tales men tell. They will know my name the world over.”

“For murder and robbery.”

“Why must you look at everything so negatively?” He frowned.

“How exactly do you see it as good? You are essentially a pirate; to claim you are anything else is unconscionable.”

“That all depends on how you view things.”

“How should I view things? My people are not the ones raping and pillaging their way through the country.”

“I do not believe that at all. I have been in Scotland long enough to hear the tales. There are bandits on the roads that rob anyone they come across. One clan at war with another would think nothing about killing their foes and taking their women even by force. By your admission, your clan both murdered your mother and was moments away for killing you as well. So, tell me again how I am morally reprehensible, but your countrymen walk on water.” Cain waited intently for her reply.

Zahra opened her mouth to rip apart his statement, but she shut her mouth without a word. She could find nothing incorrect about what he had just said. Every word of it had been true. The man had a valid point, and that annoyed her. Zahra continued up the stone steps without a word.

“I have silenced you when you had so much to say.” He teased.

“I have not been silenced; I simply prefer to think before I speak.”

“You are a special woman indeed, for most do the latter far more than the former.” Zahra shot him an unimpressed look as they reached Regin’s chamber door. She wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. “Allow me.” He offered with a cocky smile and pushed the door open for her to enter.

Zahra forced a smile as she entered and walked right up to the bed, placing the tray in Regin’s lap. “I have brought you a stew that will make you feel so much better.” He almost turned green; she was sure he felt nauseous. Were it not for his pride; he would have likely turned her away. “And a delicious wine I am sure you will enjoy.”

“I am sure I will not,” Regin grumbled, picking up his spoon and dipping it into the stew. He then smelled it and opened his mouth. “What is in this?”

“A little of this. A little of that.” She said, taking a seat on the foot of the bed.

“It does not taste like magic,” Regin complained.

“I could dance and chant a little if you like.” Zahra teased. Regin muttered under his breath but continued to eat. Zahra thought it best to distract him while he ate, perhaps he would not notice how he felt. “Perhaps a story?” She offered.

“What do you Scots know of stories?” Regin snarled, taking another bite and then a sip of his wine.

“Alright, then maybe you should tell the story. Tell me about your home.”

“It is cold.” Regin snapped with annoyance. She decided to ignore his foul mood. She had to remind herself; he did not feel well; but all that would change the more he ingested her stew.

“Father,” Cain said, coming to her defence.

“It is fine.” She assured him. “Has it been long since you were home?”

“Nine months.” Regin sighed, taking another sip of his honey wine. He was eating with more speed. He had to be hungry if he had not eaten in days.

“That is a long time.”

“We have been stuck-” Cain began.

“The woman is talking to me.” Regin scolded and then shooed his son with a wave of his hand. “Begone. Go get a drink or something.” He ordered and then looked at Erik. “You too, Boy. Leave us.”

Cain looked surprised that he had been dismissed. Erik left the room, eager to get that drink. Cain lingered a moment and then left with Erik. She was semi-amused to see him told off. The man was far too arrogant. “Nine months is a long time?” She said, returning to their conversation. “Why have you not gone home?”

Regin sighed as he stared at his stew. “I fell ill. Too ill to travel. At first, it was nothing. A tickle in my throat, I felt a little hoarse. Then came the cough and I began to feel nauseated. I suffered terrible fevers. Soon I could not sail, and we were beached. Things only got worse from there. I began to lose weight, so much my armour did not fit. After that, I got too weak to stand. It hurt to breathe. I began to cough up blood. Now I am weak, a husk of what I once was. I will never see my home again. I will never survive the journey.”

His story was a sad one. This man that looked like he had once been great, and now he was at the mercy of those who cared for him. “Did you like the stew?” She asked, noticing he was finished.

Regin looked at the empty bowl and mug, realizing he had eaten it all. “It was rather good.” He said with a smile. “And my stomach has settled.” He touched his throat. “My cough has subsided.”

Zahra smiled and took the tray. “I told you it would make you feel better.”

“I shall never doubt you again. You truly are a talented witch.”

“You should rest now.” She suggested placing the tray on the table.

“No, I am not tired. I wish to play.” He pointed to a wooden game board on the table. “Play with me.”

“I do not know how to play this game.” She said, bringing the board to the bedside.

“I will teach you.” Regin set up the pieces as he explained the goal of the game. “Chess is a game of strategy. It keeps the mind sharp. You must think ahead and outwit your opponent.”

“I am not sure how well I will do.” She said, watching him make the first move.

“You are clever, Lass; I am sure you will do fine.”

Zahra focused on the game, which ended quickly, but they set it up again, and she tried a second time. She lost each game they played, but she was getting better with each round. Regin was a master strategist, and the game was rather addicting. Before she knew it, the room was growing dark as night fell.

Zahra was not ready to give up just yet, so she lit the hearth and rejoined Regin. They played for some time when the door opened, and Cain returned with Erik. His son was pleased to see him playing. “You are still up. You look well.”

“I feel better,” Regin admitted.

“You have done wonders.” Cain grinned happily. “I have not seen him so well in weeks. Do you think you can get up?” He asked his father. “It would do the men good to see you up and moving around.”

“Yes, I think I will get up.”

“Oh no, that is not a good idea.” Zahra shook her head. “The excursion will cause him to relapse.”

“Nonsense, he looks well,” Cain said, pulling back the covers and helping his father climb out of bed. “Erik, get in here and help.” The boy came in from the hall, and with his help, Cain got Regin on his feet. “Let us dress him.”

“He really should rest.” Zahra insisted. They did not understand. He was not any better, the feeling was temporary, and when it wore off, it would hit the older man hard.

“Get his armour,” Cain instructed.

“No,” Zahra said sternly, she might not be able to keep him in bed, but she had to draw the line somewhere. “He is too weak; the armour will weigh him down; he cannot carry it.”

“The King cannot be seen without his armour,” Cain growled, but Zahra stood her ground.

“The King should not be seen at all; he is ill.” She shouted back.

“The King wishes to be heard.” Regin raised his voice as he stood unassisted on trembling legs. The room fell silent as they all watched him awaiting what he had to say. Regin looked at Zahra. “I have been on my back for two months. This is the first time I feel well enough to stand. I may not have many of these days left. I wish to dine with my men.” His eyes were pleading, trying to make her understand.

How could she say no to a dying man’s wish for a few moments of contentment? Reluctantly Zahra walked over and picked up the heavy armour. She could not imagine how he would stay upright with it on, but she would do what she could to help.

With the help of the men, they managed to get Regin dressed and armed. With his arms wrapped around Erik and Cain, they limped him out of the room to the stairs. Zahra followed closely, carrying Regin’s rather heavy sword. It took a long time to get down the stairs, but they eventually reached the main hall.

All the men rose from their seats respectfully as Cain helped his father to the high-backed chair at the head of the hall. Cain lowered his father onto the seat and Zahra was impressed at how straight he sat up on his own. He looked strong and regal. Regin held out his hand, and Zahra handed him his sword. She was still concerned he would relapse, but so long as he wanted to stay, she would remain close.

“Would you like more stew?” She whispered. It had been hours since he had eaten. It might help him keep his strength.

“You would be a dear if you warmed me up another bowl.” He smiled.

Zahra returned to the kitchen with Erik to find the pot of leftover stew. She placed it over the fire, and when it was good and hot once more, they returned to the hall where Regin gratefully accepted it.

Zahra took the empty seat nearby to watch the festivities. The men had returned to their merriment. Cain took the seat across with two mugs of ale. “If you are staying, you should drink with us.”

“No thank you, I do not partake in spirits.” She refused the offer.

“Why not?”

“Because it is a vile drink that makes fools of those who drink it.”

“Well, you drink tonight.” He forced the mug in her hands with a smile. “Smile Sweet Siren, he is well, this is a happy thing.”

She was not so sure. Zahra spent the night watching the men and sipping her ale slowly. As the night grew late, Regin became weary as she feared. His head began to hang, and his eyes grew heavy. If they did not move him now, he would have to be carried back to bed. Such a thing would wound his pride.

“We must get him to bed.” She whispered to Erik, and the boy quietly helped her drape Regin’s arms around their shoulders, and they limped him from the room. The stairs were a trial. They had to let him rest several times on the way up. When they reached his chambers, Erik helped Zahra remove his armour and lay him in the bed. The older man was asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

There was a small cot in the corner of the room where Erik had been sleeping — keeping a watchful eye on the older man. She said good-night and turned in herself. After a long day, she craved the comfort of her bed.

***

Cain had watched Zahra and Erik discreetly help his father from the room. He had become so tired. Cain had thought about helping them, but he decided against it, so far no one had noticed Regin had left, and if Cain got up to help, it would only draw undue attention. So, he remained where he was and allowed those two to do their job. Zahra was responsible for his father and Erik was responsible for Zahra.