“And I would nae have ye neglect yer laird-ly duties,” she replied in jest, but her next comment was softer. “Even if I would prefer otherwise.”
That drew the faintest hint of a smile from him, though it did not linger long.
“I shall return before the day is done,” he said. “Right back here to ye.”
She inclined her head, accepting that, though her gaze remained steady on him as he finally rose and began to dress. He did not rush, though he could feel the pull of time pressing upon him now. When he glanced back once more, she had drawn the blankets about herself, though her eyes had not left him.
Something in that look stayed with him as he stepped out into the corridor.
The keep had already come to life, voices carrying faintly through the stone halls, the distant sound of movement and purpose beginning to build. He moved through it with practiced ease, offering brief acknowledgments where needed, his mind already shifting toward the matters that required his attention.
He had not gone far before Lennox found him.
“Laird,” Lennox said, falling into step beside him with little ceremony. “I was on me way to ye.”
Frederick glanced toward him. “What is it? Any more news?”
Lennox hesitated, which was unlike him, and that alone drew Frederick’s attention more fully.
“It is Erin,” Lennox said. “She is… nae herself this morning.”
Frederick’s brow furrowed slightly. “In what way?”
“She is more distracted than usual,” Lennox replied. “Muttering to herself. Sending folk away. Caitlin said she near burned a poultice she had made a hundred times before.”
Frederick slowed his pace. Erin was not a woman given to carelessness, nor to distraction without cause.
“Has she taken ill?” he asked.
“I daenae think so,” Lennox said. “But she wouldnae answer me when I asked.”
Frederick changed direction, “I will meet you in the study shortly, Lennox.” His voice was clipped as his steps carried him toward the healer’s quarters.
The air there was quieter, the usual steady rhythm of work subdued. When he entered, he found Erin near the small table by the window, her hands resting still upon its surface as though she had forgotten what task she had meant to complete.
“Erin,” he said.
She did not startle at his presence, though she did not turn at once either. Instead, she seemed to draw in a slow breath before finally looking toward him.
“Ye have come,” she said.
“I was told ye are unwell,” Frederick replied.
She gave a small shake of her head. “Me body is as it has always been. It is the air that has changed.”
Frederick regarded her steadily. “Speak plainly.”
“Aye, ye always preferred that,” she said, though there was no sharpness in it. Only a strange sort of calm.
She stepped closer then, her gaze searching his face with an intensity that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
“Trouble is coming,” she said.
The words settled between them, simple and without ornament, yet carrying weight all the same.
“We have known that for some time,” Frederick replied evenly. “There are threats beyond our lands that we are already addressing.”
She shook her head again, more firmly this time.