"I am grateful that you came promptly." Benold held the door open eagerly, watching as the woman, with head held high, strode past him. He was relieved she was not wearing that horrid wolf's head, instead opting for more subtle wolf-fang earrings. "Caorain is this way, madam Asion"

"Tell me the trouble. Your message was short," Asion said, unfastening her gray fur cloak and bundling it into Benold's arms. He stared at the furry mass in his arms, indignant and perplexed. He looked around until he saw one of his few remaining maids and dumped it on her. Rid of the smelly garb, he resumed leading his guest towards the stairs.

"Caorain was injured abroad." Benold glanced down but then grabbed the bannister as he ascended, Asion following. "She seemed to be getting better with the use of healing poultices, but on the voyage home she became feverish. She is frightened and hysterical, and fights with my doctor whenever he tries to examine her. I am hoping someone who can speak her language can calm her down."

"Is the doctor a man?"

"Why yes. Women make fine nurses, but as for doctors..." Benold shook his head.

"In our village, men and women are healers. Men see men, women see women. How can a man know what a woman feels? And not knowing that, how can he heal her?" Asion criticised.

Benold cleared his throat. "Then, can you speak with her and maybe arrange a healer from the village to come to her? I worry moving her again will make her worse."

"I will see what I can do, Governor."

Benold brought the Lienog liaison into a dimly lit bedroom. The curtains were drawn and the oil lamps down low. Shivering despite a merry blaze in the fireplace, Caorain lay in her bed. Her skin glistened with sweat and her breaths were rapid and shallow. Benold remained by the doorway, afraid to get too close to an ailing person. Asion had no such concern.

Asion felt Caorain's brow. The feverish woman opened her glassy eyes, staring up in bewilderment at Asion. As recognition dawned on her, she grabbed for Asion's arm, clinging to her desperately. The two women spoke several words between them, although Caorain's was laboured. Asion gently leaned down, pulling away at her sheets and dressing gown until she could see the wound. After inspecting it, she put the dressing back on and said something more to Caorain. She nodded and settled back into her pillow.

Asion returned to Benold, her austere face particularly grim. "I thought Ayokonians kept their wives out of battle?"

"We do!" Benold snapped peevishly. "We were both taken prisoner by a woman driven mad with grief. Knowing Caorain to be my wife, she hurt her to hurt me."

"Hm." Asion looked back at the sick bed, then studied Benold. "I will procure a wise woman immediately."

"Thank you."

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"Stellan! Enough with that racket! It is late, and Caorain requires peace and quiet!" Benold chastised, standing imperiously in the doorway as he glared at Stellan, who had been working on repairs.

"You're the one who said you wanted this done as soon as possible," Stellan responded, setting down his hammer.

"Well I am telling you, work faster during the day, and stop in the evenings, if you please." Benold folded his arms.

Stellan ran a hand through his hair, plaster dust and wood chips falling out as he shook the unkempt mop. "You don't expect a lot, do you?" Stellan sighed. "How is she, anyway? Any better?"

Benold let out a long sigh, his shoulders sagging. "No improvement. But she is not any worse either. The medicine woman comes every morning and evening from the village. I offered to put her up here, but Asion told me she had too many other obligations to do that. So instead I send my carriage to fetch her." Benold scratched his own scalp, the sight of Stellar's messy mop making his own itch. "I have stopped checking on her, because she gets worked up whenever she sees me."

"I cannot say that I blame the poor lass," Stellan said as he gathered his tools.

Benold placed his hands on his hips in consternation. "Pray tell, what is your meaning?"

"You probably try and shunt her recovery on to your precious time table as well," Stellan said, smiling.

"I beg your pardon!"

"No need. I'm going." Stellan shoved one hand in his pocket, the other carrying his tools in a bundle as he walked past Benold, whistling. Benold looked down his nose at the craftsman as he passed under his gaze.

"By the way, Stellan, as soon as Caorain has come through, I intend for us to return to the Forbidden Isles."

Stellan's whistling stopped abruptly and he turned to face Benold. "So soon? Are you sure that is wise?"

"Of course I'll be leaving Caorain behind to recover." Benold clasped his hands behind his back. "But I will assemble a team this time, and you will be part of it. As promised, once you do your part, I will grant you the empty foundry."

"Right you are, Guv." Stellan slid into half a smirk, shaking his head. Benold arched an eyebrow, unsure what Stellan could be smirking about, but decided it was not worth his breath to inquire, or his precious time to listen to the answer. Just as Benold was about to dismiss Stellan, one of the maids came in.

"If you please sir," the mousy maid curtsied, "...you are wanted in Mistress's room."

Benold was somewhat surprised by this, but did not delay in making his way up to Caorain's room. When he entered, he coughed lightly as the smell of herbs and smoke greeted him. Asion was standing off to one side, and leaning over Caorain was the healer. "Yes? I was summoned?"

"Caorain's fever has become worse. Can you arrange a room for the healer for tonight? If Caorain makes it through, then she is very likely to make a full recovery," Asion informed. The healer woman was feeding Caorain spoonfuls of some dubious, and frankly pungent smelling mixture.

"It shall be done." Benold nodded gravely. He then scratched just behind his ear, glancing off to the side. "Does Caorain... even know where she is? Who I am?"

Asion shook her head. "Sometimes. If the ride wouldn't quicken disaster, I would send her to the village. She would be less upset there." Asion looked over at Caorain, who despite being able to sip at her medicine, seemed otherwise incoherent of anything or anyone else in the room. "Tell me if this is true. You took her with you to find Trosyn?"

Benold coughed again. Goodness. That smoke was making his throat dry. How could it be good for Caorain? Benold looked at Asion, waving a hand in the air. He sensed disapproval before he even confirmed, "Yes. What of it?"

"Trosyn said you were not cruel. I do not agree." Asion frowned.

Benold crossed his arms. "I thought leaving Caorain alone would have been cruel."

"To search for Trosyn. That is cruel," Asion specified. She placed her hands on her hips, her command of the Siperian language superior to Caorain's, but still lacking in nuance and complexity. Benold wondered if by cruel she meant some other, less antagonistic word.

"Tactless, maybe, but cruel? I think not," Benold corrected. While being tactless was unbecoming of a gentleman, it was far better than to be labelled cruel. Asion eyed him sceptically. "As I told Caorain, I will take care of her. I was not aware the Lienog were so sentimental."

"We are not. You can do what you want to her. The chief gave her to you. But Caorain is my cousin." Asion placed a hand on her hip. Benold cleared his throat, taken aback by this revelation. A flutter of nerves hit him as his mind began to rake over every single thing he had said or done to Caorain that she might repeat to Asion. "I will see her happy."

"Ah..." Benold suddenly found words very difficult to form.

"And she is not."

"Oh..."

"Her parents are honoured that she is the wife of a powerful man." Asion looked over at Caorain who was being eased back into her pillows by the woman nursing her. "If she is rejected by you, it would dishonour her and her family."

"Now see here..." Benold raised a finger in objection.

Asion thrust a finger towards him, poking him brazenly in the chest, causing him to flinch. He was unaccustomed to unsolicited touching. "I will see you and Caorain at the fertility festival this full moon." With eyes like daggers and a firm voice, Asion was clearly not making a request.

"I may be abroad by the full moon..." Benold said weakly.

"Not by this full moon. Because I will see you at the festival."

Benold nodded. His pride was screaming at him to remind her that she was in his house, and no man is told what to do in his own house. But relations with the Lienog heavily rested on keeping Asion mollified. So Benold was forced to swallow his pride. "Yes. Of course. I will be in attendance, as it will help our two people... come... together..."

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Well said, Governor," Asion said with a wry smile.

"I will go make sure a bed is made up for, uh, for your medicine woman." Benold quickly fled, taking a deep breath to allay his own anxiety once he was out in the hall. The promise Asion had extricated from him fouled up his plans. But he was not going to give up on finding Trosyn so easily. He would return to Crethal Thane one way or another. It just may take him longer than he had planned.

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The next morning Benold was awoken early by the jabbering of the toothless medicine woman. He wondered how anyone could trust the medical administrations of a woman who could not keep her own teeth. He also cursed himself out for not locking his door at night, allowing the uncultured woman to storm in and nag him out of bed. He managed to shoo her off long enough to get on a dressing gown. But as she seemed to believe something was urgent, he opted not to go through his usual morning readiness routine.

Yawning, Benold shuffled into Caorain's room where the old woman led him. To his mortification, the woman seized him by the wrist and pulled him to Caorain's bedside. The young woman lay there, devoid of any colour, with greasy hair clinging to her gaunt cheeks. It took Benold a vast deal of concentration to divine if she were still breathing or not, but he saw meagre signs of life. "What? What have you brought me here for?" Benold asked in a harsh whisper, although he knew it was of no use. The crone lifted Caorain's limp wrist and placed it in Benold's hand. He blinked. Caorain's hand was clammy. No. Slimy. He almost dropped it immediately, but even he realised that would be in poor form. So he held the ailing woman's hand.

"Is this it? You want me to hold her hand?" Benold asked, incredulous. "Why did you wake me up for that? Why now?"

The medicine woman stared at him, nostrils flared. Maybe she could understand some, for she was giving him a most formidable stink-eye. The medicine woman stood on the other side of Caorain and took her other hand. She glared at Benold, as if making sure he was still holding on. He lifted Caorain's hand as a show of good faith. Satisfied, the wizened one closed her eyes and chanted. Benold wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, so he did nothing.

Although disgusted, Benold tried to view Caorain through the sweaty and blotchy skin. She was fighting for her life. Benold reflected on this, and pondered as to why she put up a fight at all. What sort of life was she living? She was in a loveless marriage and could barely speak with anyone in her current household. The girl must feel quite alone. Except when Benold was trying to teach her his language, he wanted her out of the way. Benold sighed as the stirrings of guilt fluttered tentatively in his chest. He believed he was being merciful in keeping his distance from her. As far as he was concerned, she was forced to marry him. But had he thought about it all wrong? In an attempt to be a gentleman was he just guilty of neglect instead?

Benold's other hand now joined with hers. He stroked the back of her hand as the medicine woman prayed or sang, or did whatever it was she was doing. "It is alright, Caorain. I will not blame you if you give up. But I do hope you will give life another shot." Benold lifted her hand, with the intention to lay a kiss upon it. But he couldn't do it. Her fingers were slippery with perspiration and he feared getting sick himself. He lowered her hand again and looked at her. How did these people stay by bedsides day in and day out and stay healthy? How did they watch someone suffer? Benold was relieved he had a nurse to attend to her needs when the Lienog healer wasn't present.

Benold was pulled out of his reverie by the woman reaching across Caorain's prone body and placing her own clammy fingers over his. He jerked away, letting go of Caorain's hand which fell to the bed. Benold and the healer looked at each other; the scorn had drained from her expression.

Benold arose and smoothed out his dressing gown. He felt very foolish when he realised he was still not properly dressed. Still he tried to conduct himself befitting a man of his station, bowing to the woman. He'd almost wished he'd bothered to learn her name, as saying it there would seem fitting. Alas, he did not. Thus he departed, intent on having a bath immediately.

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"Ah, Governor, I am pleased to see you and Caorain. You do not visit our village often," Asion smiled with false grace. Benold narrowed his eyes, but smiled and bowed to her. She knew well that he had little choice but to come. Caorain, who was on the mend, said something to Asion. Asion eyed Benold and he felt a sudden chill in the air. Caorain took hold of Benold's arm, drawing close to him for support.

Caorain did not have her full strength back, but was assured that she could manage the trip to the village. Benold was unsure if her trembling was from excitement at being home, or dread. He also wasn't entirely sure what to make of the Lienog festivals, having never attended one. He looked around, trying to gain his bearings.

Benold tried not to swat at the gnats that flew about his head out of respect. He knew to remain still and reverent during such events. Especially as someone wearing a white robe and a crown of oak leaves was speaking. He didn't understand a word of it, but it was surely something demanding his respect and attention. Still, the gnats buzzing in his ear made it difficult to focus.

Several people laid food on a stone altar, and spoke the same words. At least, he thought they were the same. As a fertility festival, he imagined they were asking the spirits to release them of the curse. Benold had performed something similar at Trosyn's behest - and felt ridiculous the whole time. But at least it was done privately.

Caorain removed a bag she had brought with her from her shoulder, and pulled out a bottle. Benold eyed it. That was from his cellar. Was she going to share it with these people? Why didn't he think of bringing wine? He would like to incur more favour with the Lienog to chase away his previous blunders. Blunders. No. they were more than blunders. He'd shot and killed some of them. A chill reverberated up and down Benold's spine as he realised he was standing in a circle of people he'd shot at the previous year. This was feeling too much like Nothvar already. At least there were no volcanoes on Klogvan island.

To Benold's dismay, Caorain did not pass the bottle around. Instead she strode up to the altar and began pouring the contents into a wide, shallow bowl. He jumped, nearly shrieking when a hand came down heavy on his shoulder.

"Join her. If you do not, you are not a good husband." Asion pointed to a couple who watched Asion anxious. "Her parents watch."

Benold sniffed and crossed his arms. "I already made my offering to the spirits last year."

"Do it. They want to see." Asion released his shoulder. "Appear as a good husband."

Benold's shoulders drooped. But knowing people were watching, he rolled them back and lifted his chin, joining Caorain. When the bowl was full, she passed it to him. He looked at it confused. Caorain pointed to the altar. "Give." Benold nodded and placed it, but not without some reluctance. That was some of his finest wine. He picked up the bottle, which was now quite light, and sighed. Maybe he could get a small glass out of it. But it would not be proper to take a drink here in view of everyone. Caorain began her prayer, and Benold just bowed his head, not sure what else to do.

When Caorain was done, she smiled and looked towards her parents. Benold could see the pride written all over their faces. He mustered something akin to a grin and then walked briskly back to his place in the circle.

Benold wanted it to be over. He wanted to go home to his own comfort and his own people. He glanced at Caorain. She probably felt the same every day. Another sigh escaped him. "Caorain, are you alright? It is late. You are still weak," Benold asked, nay, suggested hopefully, seeking a way to extricate himself and save face.

"I am good. Ah. I am well," Caorain corrected just as Benold lifted his finger, preparing to do so himself His hand went down and he nodded his approval. He would have preferred her to say she was tired, but at least she was improving her language skills.

"Ah." Benold placed his hands behind his back and tilted his head towards Caorain's parents. "Your family?"

"Yes."

"Are you happy to see them?"

"Yes."

"Good."

It was growing darker and the savages all began holding hands. That meant Benold as well. Caorain he did not mind so much, but he did not know the person to his left or where their hands had been. He just had to endure a little longer, he hoped. He went along with the motions, raising his hands and letting them fall in waves as something was shouted. Then the drumming began. A haunting reed instrument joined in, adding whimsical notes to the evening. Everyone broke off into partners and began to dance.

"Ah, I..." Benold looked down at Caorain who took both of his hands.

"Come."

"This is not..." Benold tried to protest, but she forced his hands up in the air and walked up to him, standing chest to chest. Benold was unaccustomed to following a woman's lead, but he did his best to keep up with his wife. At least this dance was not overly complex, and it was dark enough that even when he stumbled, it likely went unnoticed.

It took time, but Benold eventually enjoyed himself. Caorain also seemed in better spirits. Her demeanour had been dour since her sickness. And Benold kept blaming it on her feeling poorly. But he began to wonder if it was more than that as she twirled in front of him. "Caorain..."

"Yes?"

Their hands clasped and they came nose to nose again. "If you could stay here, would you? Do you want to go back to your family?"

Caorain frowned. The question seemed to drain the vitality out of her. She stepped back, but their hands remained clasped. "I can not. Do not ask."

Their hands released Caorain circled him, hands on her hips. Benold watched her, waiting for when he must do the same. "I want you to be well. And coming here has brightened you. You seem more alive."

"I go with you. I am your wife," Caorain said firmly, her tone verging on offended.

"Of course." When he took her hands again, they felt cool, and she seemed to tremble. "I think that is enough for today. You do not seem well. Let us go back."

"But... it dark. We all stay until light."

Benold looked around at everyone. "...Everyone stays here until dawn? They stay up all night?" Caorain nodded. "You are not fully recovered. I am your husband, and your health is my responsibility. We are going back."

Caorain did not argue further. She glanced towards her parents who were dancing together and then looked up at Benold. He took her firmly by the hand and led her out of the circle. No one stopped them, but Caorain kept looking longingly over her shoulder as the festival continued.

Once they were in the gig, Benold drank what remained of his wine. Caorain looked away from him, too tired to hide her disgust. Benold arched an eyebrow at her, then held up the bottle. "This? You do not like my wine?"

"I do not like." Caorain shook her head to emphasise her point.

"Then you need not have any," Benold said, tilting the bottle back again for another draw. He then clicked his tongue, urging the horse to get moving.

"You drink I do not like," Caorain clarified. Benold shook the empty bottle and then placed it in the seat with Caorain.

"Why?"

"You..." Caorain brought her knees up, leaning into the upholstery of the carriage. She nestled under the fur blanket that Benold had brought for her comfort.

"I...?" Benold asked, looking over his shoulder a moment then directing his attention to the path ahead. The ride was a bumpy one as no road to the village had been made. "I what?"

"Talk. Talk of Trosyn."

"Well, I won't tonight," Benold assured Caorain. "Try to get some rest."

Caorain said nothing more. Benold tried his best to remain alert, but he was feeling depleted. It would be a long journey back, and his eyes felt heavy.