Gifted

Prophecy

Magnus was disappointed but not surprised to find their bedchamber empty. A maid directed him to the kitchen after he asked for Alina's whereabouts. There, Cook pointed him to a room just past the buttery. He found his wife in a long, narrow room that looked like a cluttered apothecary. Shelves lined the two long walls and a cauldron hung over a fire at one end of the room. At the other end, Alina bent over a large work bench in front of a window. It was littered with jars, herbs, pots and books.

Alina was writing furiously into a battered book. She was wearing gloves again. As he approached, waves of pain and nausea emanated from her even though she still had him blocked. She startled when he laid a hand on her narrow back.

"Och, love, it pains me tae see ye suffer so," he said. "Let me help. I promise I'm not probing for yer secrets."

He found where she felt the headache most - at her hairline behind her ears - and he massaged his fingers over the tension. She whimpered and let her head fall back against him. He worked his fingers over the rest of her scalp then moved to her temples and forehead. They both breathed a sigh of relief when some of the pain started to recede.

She turned and made a sound of protest when he backed away. He left the room only briefly and came back with a bowl of candied ginger from Cook. She wrinkled her nose at it but she dutifully let him drop a piece in her mouth.

"I was going to administer a remedy as soon as I finished journaling," she said around the candy. "But I'm glad ye helped me feel better sooner. Thank ye."

She hugged herself onto him. His arms folded around her automatically. He looked over her head at the tiny, neat writing in the journal.

He asked, "Is that Latin?"

"Aye," she said, still holding on. "But also coded. I write details of my visions in here before I forget. One can't be too careful."

"Alina, what happened?" Magnus asked, a prickle of concern starting to grow. "I was gone less than an hour. Now I find ye recovering from yet another vision. Was it one of the servants? Did ye touch hands on accident?"

"Nay, it wasn't a servant," she said, paused. "It was ye who brought on the vision."

"Ye had a vision about us?" Magnus asked, concern turning into alarm. "How? And why now?"

She looked up from his chest, big almond eyes full of angst, "Ye shouldn't have told me ye love me, Magnus. It's tempted fate against us."

Fear seized him. He'd never backed away from any opponent. He'd been inured to violence, pain and death. But he was afraid to ask Alina the next question. There was only one thing he feared losing.

She squeezed her slender arms tighter against him.

"Now, I won't tell ye about my vision until ye hear out my plan on how we're going to fix it," she reasoned. "The future is stubborn but there's always something we can do to choose the best outcome."

He still couldn't say anything.

"Ye were right," she continued. "About me needing to take better care of myself? I'm going to do that starting today. I'll avoid having visions. I'll eat twice a day. I'll get plenty of rest. I'll be healthy enough for us to work on making a bairn by..."

His heart refused to work. It contracted tighter and tighter until if felt so heavy that it threatened to drag him to the floor. He couldn't lose her already. He'd just found her.

He let her voice wash over him. She led him to a straw pallet in front of the fire and sat with him until he came back to himself.

"Are ye ill? Is that what the vision showed?" He commanded, "Show me what ye saw."