Stephen nodded faintly, following Tate into the room where his medicament bag lay open near the hearth. As Stephen went for the bag, Tate went for the bed. The closer he drew, the more his heart ached for what he saw.
Toby was cradling Ailsa against her chest, the child’s head lying upon her breast. Toby had been weeping painful, steady tears for over an hour. Her left arm was wrapped around the body, her right hand pressed against Ailsa’s head. Tears, saliva and mucus rained onto Ailsa as Toby expended her grief. Tate stood a moment, watching her slender body shake with sobs, wondering if there was anything in the world he could say to ease her sorrow but knowing in the same breath that there was not.
“Elizabetha,” he murmured, leaning over and gently putting his hands on her arms. “Can Stephen have Ailsa for a while? Just for a short while so that you may rest.”
Toby’s reply was to weep harder and hold on tighter. Tate sat down on the bed behind her, his big torso pressed up against her back and his massive arms winding around hers until he, too, was holding Ailsa. He just held them both a moment, rocking them gently.
“I promise that Stephen will take good care of her,” he murmured into Toby’s hair. “But you must rest a while. Just a short while, I promise. Will you trust him to take care of her?”
Toby was in a haze of grief. She couldn’t think of anything other than the tragedy that had befallen her and she held her sister’s cooling corpse tightly, trying to infuse some warmth into it. It hadn’t sunk in yet that her sister would never rise again. This was the child she had raised since infancy so in a sense, not only had she lost her sister but she had lost her child as well.
On the heels of Forestburn’s destruction and her parents’ death, the horrific accident was too much for her to take and she held on tightly for fear that if she let go, she would lose everything. At least if she continued to hold Ailsa, she’d not lost her entire family. Irrational thoughts, but at the moment, she was quite irrational. She was spiraling.
“Nay,” she sobbed into Ailsa’s hair. “You cannot have her.”
By this time, Stephen was standing next to the bed, a cup in his hand that contained the sleeping elixir. He bent over, touching Toby’s hand gently.
“I promise I will take great care of her,” he said soothingly. “But I should like for you to rest a while. Ailsa would not want you to become ill again. It would displease her.”
Toby tightened her grip, feeling threatened with one knight in back of her and another standing over her. She was sure they were going to snatch Ailsa away and she would not let them have her.
“Go away,” she hissed. “Go away and leave us alone.”
Stephen caressed Toby’s hand comfortingly. “Please, Toby,” he moved beyond the formalities. “Please let me take care of her for a while. You need to rest and I must tend to Ailsa. I cannot do that if you are holding her.”
“You cannot have her,” Toby sobbed.
“Why not?”
“Because she is mine.”
“Of course she is yours. I do not wish to keep her. I only want to have her for a little while as you rest.”
Toby gazed down at the ashen face of her little sister, who looked as if she was merely sleeping. No gore, no blood; just peace. Toby’s face crumpled and tears fell like rain.
“Why did you do that?” she begged the child mournfully. “Why did you fall on those stairs? You know you should have been more careful. Why did you fall?”
Stephen continued to rub at Toby’s hand, trying to offer what comfort he could. “It was an accident,” he said gently. “You cannot blame her. She simply fell.”
“Stupid!” Toby suddenly burst, shaking Ailsa angrily. “It was stupid! You should not have been running! I should have… I should have.…” Her face went slack as if a horrible thought hadjust occurred to her. “I should have held your hand. I should have grabbed you before you got too close. I should have….”
Toby was bordering on temporary insanity as she babbled; Stephen’s brow was furrowed as he and Tate passed concerned glances. “It was not your fault,” Stephen said with more firmness. “It was an accident. Please let me take Ailsa while you rest; I promise I shall give her back.”
Toby shook her head, recoiling from Stephen, realizing that Tate was behind her and trying to recoil from him, too. She ended up struggling to her feet, holding her limp sister and trying to get away from the knights. But she wasn’t strong enough to lift Ailsa entirely and she ended up dragging her sister several feet across the floor. It was pathetic and harrowing. Tate rose slowly from the bed, watching Toby struggle to get away from them. There was tremendous pain in his eyes, knowing very well what she was feeling. He had felt it once, too.
But Toby was too weak with grief and recent illness and ended up falling before she could get too far away. Huddled on the floor, she held her sister’s torso and head tightly while Ailsa’s legs lay splayed across the floor. It was clear that she was not balanced. Tate didn’t look at Stephen as he spoke to the knight; his eyes were riveted to Toby.
“I will take Toby,” he whispered. “Be prepared to grab Ailsa and take her out of here.”
Stephen nodded, heading off to his right while Tate moved to his left. They were stalking Toby, like predators, only these were predators of mercy. Toby would never gain her wits so long as she held a death-grip on her sister’s body. Tate walked up behind her, crouching down and putting his big hands on her upper arms.
“Elizabetha, sweetheart,” he tightened his grip as he spoke, his hands moving down her arms to her wrists. “Please let us have Ailsa. I promise we will be very careful with her.”
Toby wept and sputtered. “Nay,” she gasped. “She is all that I have left. She cannot… she cannot be dead.”
“She is, sweet,” Tate crooned softly, his cheek against the right side of her head. “I am so sorry for your loss. Believe me; I know what you are feeling. I have been there. But you must let us take Ailsa to prepare her for burial.”
Toby howled. “Nay!” she cried. “You cannot bury her!”