The Hermetica of Elysium (Elysium Texts Series) by Annmarie Banks

Montrose looked drained of life. He leaned heavily against the side of the bed, closed his eyes.
    “My lord, you need some of this too,” she said softly.
    “Tomorrow, maybe. Now I must sleep.” He then slid all the way to the floorboards. Nadira found another blanket for him.
    The hot water and the clean dress beckoned to her. She reached for them.

CHAPTER SIX
    I N the morning Nadira was stiff and sore, but before she went to the privy or washed her face she crawled up from her pallet to check on Marcus. She stretched her hand over the bed to touch his cheek. He lived, but barely.
    Nadira pushed her hair from her face. Her braid had come undone in the night. She tilted her head back as she twisted the mass of it into a knot and was surprised to see a young girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen, sitting on a stool beside the bed, absolutely silent. Her dark hair was tied up in a white kerchief, her hands busy with a drop spindle.
    She smiled shyly at Nadira, her hands working without a pause. “Good morning, mistress.”
    “Good morning to you. Have you been here all night?”
    “No, miss. Master sent me in this morning after the guests went down to eat. He told me to stoke the fire and wait for you to awaken, and give you this.” The girl reached over the sideboard and pushed a heavy crockery bowl toward the bed. Nadira leaned over to find hot broth cooling inside. “It’s for the sick man here. And I brought you some breakfast,” she indicated a small bowl of bread and fruit, “and an apron to protect your dress.”
    “Thank you. What shall I call you?”
    “Sarah, miss.”
    “I think I am going to need a great deal of hot water today, Sarah.” Nadira pulled the apron over her head and tied the strings about her waist.
    “Yes, miss. It is laundry day, there is plenty.” Sarah nodded at the man in the bed. “Will he live, miss?”
    “I hope so, he is a good man.” Nadira dipped the broth with a spoon from the bowl to his lips.
    “But he looks dead now, how can he live?” Sarah asked, leaning over Marcus and touching his forehead.
    Nadira smiled sadly as she took the cloth and wiped the final drops of broth from his beard. “He deserves a chance, and he is very strong.”
    The door pushed open. Montrose entered, followed by Alisdair. Both men were clean and combed and Montrose had been shaved. They were wearing clean tunics and breeches as well. She glanced at the window. They must have let me sleep until noon.
    Their host entered a moment later, smiling a greeting at Nadira. “Good, good, I see Sarah is helping as I instructed. Girl, go to the kitchen and bring back more hot water and fresh linen.” Sarah disappeared like a wraith.
    “He is much the same, isn’t he,” Montrose said.
    “Yes, but ‘the same’ means he is not dead,” Nadira insisted.
    Montrose turned his head to eye her with skepticism.
    Beniste interrupted. “Marcus is not the only one injured. I cannot help but see that you, too, are bleeding. There is blood on the floor and at my table.”
    “It is true,” Nadira said. “He needs to have it tended.”
    Montrose grimaced. “I wanted Marcus tended first, and my wound is small.”
    “Not so small,” Beniste said, indicating the stains blooming beneath Montrose’s tunic. “And more is promised I see. Let the girl sew you up, my lord. That is damned hard on the linens.”
    “Yes, yes, very well. It must be done.” Montrose grumbled.
    Alisdair frowned slightly. “Shouldn’t we have the leech come up fer that?”
    Beniste answered, “Is he better with a needle? Have you seen his hands?”
    Alisdair gave a short laugh, “Mebbe not.” His smile faded as he clapped Montrose on the shoulder. “I dunno why you want her to do it, Rob. Just make sure she does it right. I’m to the stables to check on the boys and the horses.” Alisdair narrowed his eyes at Nadira before he left the room.
    Beniste gave her a more encouraging look. “I have a messenger below from one of my