Chapter 7
in Margaery’s old life, Craig had longed to take Margaery under his wing as his apprentice.
But back then, her heart was consumed with winning back the favor of the Wallens. Every tonic and remedy Craig shared with her, she passed on to her second brother, Avery, desperate to reclaim the affection he’d already given to Tessa
In the end, Avery had the nerve to demand Craig’s stomach soothing elixir for Tessa, acting as if it was his due,
The remedies she’d quietly slipped to Avery from Craig’s stores? They won no one’s heart.
Avery took her sacrifices for granted, and if she dared refuse him, he’d flare with anger.
Yet, with those same remedies, Avery rose swiftly, securing a place as head of the Royal Infirmary.
Tessa bloomed into a vision of beauty, while Margaery was cast out, left to wander the streets, reviled by all.
Looking back, Margaery cringed at how blindly she’d humbled herself. What a fool she’d been.
From the courtyard, Craig’s voice rang out, warm and teasing. “Well, bless my soul–has the sun gone and risen in the west? You, coming to visit an old codger like me?”
Before the echo of his words faded, a tall, wiry figure appeared at the threshold. His face was sharp but kind, his eyes twinkling with gentle mischief.
When he caught sight of Margaery’s roughspun linen dress, his brows arched in surprise. “What’s this, now? With the bond we share, you don’t need to dress like a pauper to tug at my heart for a potion, do you?”
Craig folded his arms, cocking his head with a playful grin.
Margaery’s cheeks flushed with guilt. She sank to her knees. “Mr. Eastwick, I’m not here for potions this time.”
“Oh?” His eyes glinted with a knowing light, as if he could read her very soul. “Then what’s brought you to my door?”
Margaery knew Craig was no ordinary man. The scandal at the Chancellor’s manor had spread through the city like wildfire–surely, he’d heard the whispers.
She drew a steady breath. “I’ve come for two things. First, I’m plagued by rheumatism, and I need your skill with the needles to ease it.
“Second, I want to be your apprentice. I want to learn the art of healing and the ways of combat, to care for you in your later years and honor you always.”
Craig’s face softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Seems you’ve finally opened your eyes.” He reached down, gently lifting her to her feet. “Come inside, lays.”
“Thank you, Mr, Eastwick,” Margaery’said, rising.
“You can call me Craig now,” he said with a chuckle, pressing a warm cup of water into her hands. “But mind you, this path isn’t easy.
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Chapter 7
Learning medicine and fighting will take gut and time. You ready for the hard work?”
“Lam.” Margaery answered, her voice fum as stone.
She was determined to break free from the Wallen family. Her first step was to forge a life of her own. Healing would give het purpose and a livelihood.
Combat would keep her safe. She wouldn’t faller.
Craig gave a nod of approval, retrieving a set of silver needles, “Right, then. Let’s start with your treatment. We’ll drive out the cold and dampness in your bones. Today, we’ll tend to fourteen points, beginning with…
Margaery followed his guidance, listening intently as he worked.
“Feel those points?” he asked. “Get a sense of where them sit on you. When we’re done, I’ll show you sketches to learn how to find them on others.
“Tonight, go home and commit these points to memory–their places and their purposes. Come back in three days.”
Margaery nodded, etching every word into her heart.
After the fourteen needles, the cold in her bones had eased, her stiff joints warming with life.
She couldn’t resist–she stood, stretching her arms with a soft sigh.
“Hold there,” Craig warned gently. “The needles need an hour to settle, or the cold will creep back worse than before.”
He handed her a cup of honeyed water, eyeing her plain, homespun gown. “The Chancellor’s feast is the talk of the city tonight. They’re naming a second lady of the house, aren’t they?”
His gaze sharpened. “And you, dressed so plain–you were slighted there, weren’t you? You want to cut ties for good.”
I
Margaery couldn’t deny it. She nodded softly. “It’s not just the slight. Hard lessons teach wisdom. I want to be free, but it’s a path I must tread slowly.”
Craig gave a slow nod. “Wise words. Wait for the right moment.” His brow furcowed. “But this chill in you runs deep.
“What did that old fox Raul do?”
Margaery froze.
Craig’s bluntness was no surprise, but to call her father–the Chancellor–an “old fox“? That was new.
For a moment, she sensed a hidden rift between them, something old and bitter.
But such matters weren’t hers to probe.
She sighed, sharing the past few days in brief, then looked up. “Craig, I didn’t push Tessa down the hill. Do you believe
me?”
“You say you didn’t, and I trust you,” Craig said, his eyes warm but firm. “I know your heart.
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“But Raul? He’s grown blind. A Chancellor who can’t see truth from lies will ruin the realm.”
Margaery’s heart swelled. Even her kin doubted her, but Craig stood by her.
“Your trust means everything.” she said.
She hesitated. “But my father’s power is vast. Speak freely here, but outside, don’t cross him for my sake. I’d never forgive myself if he turned against you.”
Craig snorted. “He may be high and mighty, but I’m no pushover. Let Raul try me he’ll regret it.”
He waved a hand. “Ease your mind, lass. I’ll give you two tonics. Rest well and return in three days.”
Margaery nodded, settling by the hearth to study the acupuncture charts.
A question lingered, one she’d always held. “Craig, your healing skills are unmatched. Why live so humbly? Why not open a practice?”
Craig chuckled. “A practice? I’ve no time for that.”
Margaery blinked. “No time? What keeps you so busy?”
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