Medieval 01 - Untamed

to swallow, which he did without hesitation.
    The third time, Meg was more bold. She put her mouth against Dominic’s partly opened one, pursed her lips, and fed him a gentle stream of medicine. He swallowed again and yet again. When her mouth was empty, she quickly took more medicine and returned to feeding her husband until there was nothing left in the cup.
    As Simon watched the gentleness with which Meg gave Dominic the medicine, he silently admitted that he had been too harsh in his opinion of her. Like the tears that had not ceased their slow welling, her actions told Simon that despite the gossip, Meg felt no hatred toward her husband.
    In fact, had Simon not been certain that the marriage was unconsummated, he would have sworn that real affection existed between his brother and the Glendruid witch. She was as tender toward Dominic as a mother to her babe.
    â€œHis breathing,” Meg said urgently. “Does it seem slower than it was?”
    The hope that had been uncurling in Simon froze as he realized Meg was correct. Dominic’s breath was definitely slowing.
    â€œI wasn’t in time!” she cried. “Dear God, I wasn’t in time!”
    Meg flung the bowl into the floor and reached out to shake her husband’s shoulders.
    â€œYou must breathe!” she said urgently. “You simply must!”
    As though she would give him air as surely as she had given him medicine, Meg bent to her husband once more.
    â€œTake back the breath of life,” she whispered. “ Take it .”
    She sealed her mouth over Dominic’s and forced her own breath into his body again and again when he breathed too shallowly and too slowly for himself.
    Astonished, Simon held his brother and watched for long minutes as Meg fought for every breath Dominic took. Her determination that he live was so great that it was almost tangible.
    A tingling sensation went down Simon’s spine, a primal recognition of a will as deeply trained and disciplined as that of Dominic himself. Except for his brother, Simon had never encountered such strength of purpose. He hadn’t even believed it existed.
    Simon sensed Dominic stirring almost as soon as Meg did. She gave him a final breath and collapsed onto her knees with her cheek against his chest, trembling from an effort that was as much mental as physical.
    â€œDoes he—breathe?” she panted.
    â€œAye. Slowly, but not fearfully so. And he draws air more deeply.”
    The breath Meg took was almost a sob. She lifted her head. Dominic was less pale now. She touched his cheek. His skin was warming where it once had been cool. Yet still his breaths came with painful slowness.
    Meg watched anxiously, knowing the antidote should have had more effect. Made from new leaves, it had twice the potency of medicine made in summer.
    â€œSir,” called Dominic’s squire from the hall door. “A few of the knights are a bit slow, but none complain of it. They simply say the ale was unusually strong.”
    Simon looked at Meg.
    â€œIf they were going to succumb, they would have done so by now,” she said without looking away from Dominic.
    â€œGo back to your post,” Simon said. “We’ll call you if we need anything else.”
    The squire hesitated. “Sir?”
    â€œDominic is getting better with every breath,” Simon said through a false smile. “Tell the people of the keep that their lord will be well on the morrow.”
    Jameson’s relief was clear. “Thank you, sir.”
    The squire turned to go, then turned back. “I almost forgot. Thomas the Strong wants to know if he should let the drawbridge back down in the morning.”
    â€œNay,” Simon said flatly. “I want no coming or going.”
    â€œYes, sir!”
    Beneath Simon’s baleful eyes, the squire retreated with more speed than ceremony. When Simon turned back to the bed, he saw Meg’s fear written in her pale face. Her hand was resting on Dominic’s heart, but it was his breathing that frightened her.
    â€œIt isn’t enough,” she whispered. “He’ll die before he wakes. I must risk it.”
    â€œWhat? You aren’t making sense.”
    Ignoring Simon’s question, Meg pushed to her feet. As she reached for the small, stoppered bottle, her foot kicked the bowl she had thrown aside in her fear. She picked up the cool metal, filled it half full of water, and upended the bottle until