Healer: Spiritual Gifts #1

FORTY-TWO

The spirit couple did not leave her side. The strange pair said nothing, but watched over Ariane's body in a silent vigil. Derrik, Eleanor and his mother remained by his side, offering words of encouragement and pride. The ghostly midwife reassured him, but nothing lessened his concern.

Kellan woke from his pain-filled stupor to find Father Johannes and the spirits of his family waiting for him. He had bolted from his resting couch with instant realization of what happened. The priest offered reassurances but could not restrain the agitated prince or keep him from his goal. Derrik led him directly to her side in the servant's quarters where she had been placed. The image of her ashen features as he found Ariane lying still as death would never be banished. Ignoring his own pain and weakness, he carried his wife to his quarters and bed where he prayed for her recovery.

The teasing words he had uttered in their hidden paradise came back to haunt him.

Who heals the healer?

The events played continuously through his mind. He prayed he had done enough. The attending midwife assured him he could do no more, but that did not stop him from trying. Finding Ariane's leather journal in a deep pocket of her ruined dress, Kellan searched the book for any helpful advice only to find none. Frustrated, he could do nothing else but follow the wisdom of Mother Mildred's spirit: wait and pray.

Blue entwined with White.

The last pages of the journal led him to the colored belt and the prophecy. Kellan had no doubt the belt in his hands enabled him to perform the unfamiliar task of healing. Curiosity demanded he experiment. As his fingers stroked the white fibers, he noticed the spirits in the room gained color and intensity. Almost to the degree of the living. Kellan knew this element was vital, but he could not concentrate on the meaning.

Likewise, when he laid the belt across the still woman lying on his bed, a faint blue gleam emerged from the fibers. The glow intensified when he added his gold cross to her neck. He reasoned the soothing combination would do no harm. Nothing mattered but Ariane's health.

There was little else he could do. Restlessly Kellan alternated his vigil between the bed and the window. Derrik's shade paced with him, while the other spirits kept their places, out of his way.

Morning dawned giving him hope that Ariane would wake. Servants brought his usual heated bath water. A subtle prompt from his brother forced Kellan to consider his own hygiene. With swift motions, he dutifully wiped the sweat, blood and grime from his body.

A knock on the door interrupted Kellan's ablutions. Annoyed at the interruption, he quickly pulled on pants, before growling with impatient frustration, "Enter."

The door opened to admit the king. Rorik stopped with confusion at the sight of the Ariane lying pale and listless in Kellan's bed and his half-naked son. Apparently, the monarch was unaware of Ariane's relocation.

"Forgive my intrusion. Father Johannes informed me that you were awake. I hoped to find you alone."

"I am rarely alone, Father." Kellan completed his task but was prepared to defend his wife and her presence in his chamber. He turned away to pick up his shirt, unintentionally revealing his back to his father.

Reminded of his son's unusual gift so much like his own, Rorik was slow to notice Kellan's back. When he did, he gasped in shock by what was before him. "What are those marks, Kellan?"

Too late, Kellan realized his error. Seeing his reflection in the window, he was unsurprised to see changes to his brand. Refusing to conceal what had been earned with great love and effort, Kellan stated with pride, "They are the marks of healing."