As the healer cleaned his wounds, Ewan was shocked at how long the piercing appeared. However, it was healing nicely. His midsection was rewrapped.
“The wound to the back of yer head is what worries me,” the healer explained. “I wish to see what happens when we help ye to sit.”
With Keithen’s assistance, he was helped to sit up and, immediately, the room swayed and his vision blurred.
Closing and opening his eyes to clear his vision, Ewan let out a deep breath to keep from becoming nauseous. Refusing to look at the healer, Ewan concentrated on the wall opposite the bed, but his vision continued to be blurry. “Something is wrong with my eyesight.”
The healer shrugged. “I expect everything will return to normal after ye heal properly.” The man leaned forward and looked into Ewan’s eyes. “They appear fine.”
Keithen waited for the healer to leave before speaking again. “My father did inform me that he wishes ye to return to yer clan.”
The decision was not surprising. Upon learning that he’d been the archer to kill the late Mackenzie, it was imperative Ewan leave. The last thing the Frasers needed at the moment was to be involved in another conflict.
It was doubtful, in Ewan’s mind anyway, that the new Laird Mackenzie wished to battle. The man, however, was no doubt behind the efforts to bring conflict between smaller clans and the Frasers.
Ewan let out a breath and nodded. It was his fault for showing off during the archery competition. When he’d shot three arrows at once, those that were aware of how Laird Mackenzie had been killed immediately suspected he was the assassin.
Could it be that one of the people who’d been at the tournament had purposely attacked and attempted to kill him? It frustrated Ewan not to recall what happened before he was found left for dead.
“Get some rest,” Keithen said and left.
Ewan slid from the bed and pulled clothes from his trunk. At seeing his tunic, neat stitches where a tear had once been caught his attention.
For some reason, Catriona had insisted on being the one to mend his clothes. She’d asked to do it and he’d made sure to bring her an article of clothing weekly. It had become the only time he could see her alone without the lass avoiding him.
Not that he blamed her for being wary. After all, the poor woman had been through a horrific ordeal. There was little doubt in his mind that Catriona was changed for life. Whoever she’d been before he’d met her was forever gone. A pity, as he’d heard she was a lively creature who was quick to smile and pass out advice.
Moving slowly through the pain, he dressed and then stood still for a moment as the room once again swayed when he straightened.
After taking a few shaky steps, Ewan managed to keep from becoming dizzy. Although his vision remained a bit off, he could see well enough to make his way out of the small room he’d been given by the Frasers.
It was time to find out what happened the day he’d been injured. If he heard the exact details from one of the guards, hopefully, it would prod the memory.
“What do ye plan to do?” Broden, asked him when he walked out to the great room and lowered to a bench. “Return north or back to Uist?”
It was the question he’d been asking himself since he’d spoken to the laird. “I am not sure as yet. It is probably best that I return north.”
His cousin, Laird Malcolm Ross, would put him to work and allow him to provide a good life for himself. As much as Ewan detested the idea of asking for help yet again, he wasn’t ready to return to Uist.
“Ye are not ready for work as yet,” Broden said, studying him with a flat expression. “Whoever cut ye, did not like ye at all.”
“Tell me what happened,” Ewan said. “I do not remember anything of that day.”
Broden nodded. The man was almost as tall as him, but slimmer. The warrior had seemed to dislike him since Ewan’s arrival. However, at the moment, Ewan didn’t have time to figure out why.
As head guard, Broden didn’t treat him any differently than the others, and yet Ewan sensed that the man did not care for him in the least.
“We rode out to the farm,” Broden said as he walked toward the guard buildings and Ewan fell into step beside him. It hurt to walk, but he managed to keep up. Admittedly, Broden walked slower than usual.
“Each of us rode in separate directions and returned to the same spot at the sun being directly above. After looking about the farm, my group and I headed to a different farm. I was told by yer guardsmen that when ye all were heading back here, ye took a different route.”
“Did I give an explanation?”
Broden’s grayish gaze met his. “Not to me, or anyone else. No one was aware of yer new path until ye were brought back here by the hunters.”
As the head guard had retold what had happened, small pictures formed in his mind. Perhaps the healer was right, and both his memory and eyesight would return to normal as he healed.
They’d come to a stop and Broden motioned toward the keep. “Ye look about to drop. Return to the keep. I do not have time to tend to ye.”
Although annoyed at the man’s tone, Ewan turned away and trudged back to the keep. Once he sought a meal, he would return to bed and rest. As much as he hated idle time, Ewan was well aware that rest was the
