Free Luther and Katharina by Jody Hedlund

a raised bedframe filled with stale straw. She had already taken stock of the supplies and found them lacking, but she had located a few of the herbs she regularly used.
    Doctor Luther settled himself on the bench, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes while she steeped dried chamomile flowers in boiling water and added catnip, lavender, and honey.
    Once the sweet aroma filled the room, she handed him a hot mug of the drink. “How often do you have this stomach ailment, Doctor Luther?”
    His hands trembled around the mug. “More than I’d like.”
    “What causes it?”
    “No one knows. Only that I’m an old man with too many ailments to count.” He lifted the mug to his lips.
    “Don’t drink it!” Wolfgang appeared in the doorway, his overlong black hair askew and his thick brows outlining fierce eyes. “It could be poisoned.”
    “Absolutely not.” Katharina narrowed her eyes, refusing to be intimidated by the man. In the short time she’d been at the monastery, she’d already noticed the way the manservant hovered about Doctor Luther as if the professor were one of the rare and holy relics of Christ.
    “We don’t know these nuns.” Wolfgang crossed with long, swift strides toward Doctor Luther. “They could be working for Duke George.”
    “Nonsense,” she said. “I’m only trying to ease Doctor Luther’s discomfort.”
    “Doctor Luther’s life is always in jeopardy.” Wolfgang towered over her, his proximity too near for comfort. “We can never be careful enough.”
    Though tempted to back away, she held her ground next to Doctor Luther and glared back at the manservant. “You certainly have an elevated opinion of your master. Surely the whole world isn’t trying to kill Doctor Luther.”
    Doctor Luther blew on the hot steam rising from the drink, a faint smile quirking his lips, as though he was enjoying the spat between the two of them. “You’d be surprised at how many death threats I receive. Many more than I can count.”
    “No wonder your servant exaggerates. He’s only imitating his master.”
    Any trace of Doctor Luther’s humor evaporated, and his eyes darkened at her underhanded insult. “You’re right, Wolf. We must be careful. Sister Katharina might be trying to kill me.”
    She wouldn’t encourage him by responding, nor would she encourage the paranoia of his servant. She took the mug from Doctor Luther and swallowed a drink. The hot liquid burned the roof of her mouth and scalded her throat. “There, Wolfgang.” She returned the mug to Doctor Luther and finally allowed herself to take a step away. “Now Doctor Luther and I shall die together.”
    Wolfgang’s black scowl lifted for only an instant before resuming its typical deep crease.
    “Your claws are out,” Doctor Luther said, his expression as murky as the liquid. “When you’re riled, you’re a hissing
Katzen.
”
    “If I’m the hissing cat, what does that make you, Doctor Luther? Are you the growling hound?”
    The gleam in his eyes hardened, and the muscles in his jaw visibly tightened. Without taking his gaze from hers, he took a sip of the drink.
    Wolfgang gave a cry of protest and tried to pry the mug from his master’s fingers. But Doctor Luther shrugged the manservant away and took another sip, his eyes unrelenting in their censure of her.
    A sharp needle of guilt pricked her. After Doctor Luther’s kindness to her and the other sisters, not only in aiding their escape but now in providing shelter, she knew he was no growling hound. She ought not to have spoken so forthrightly. Should she apologize?
    He spoke again before she could find the words. “If I’m the hound and you’re the cat, then it would appear we’ll have no camaraderie except quarreling. In that case, spare me your presence since I already have far too many enemies and need no more.”
    At his rude dismissal any thought of an apology disappeared. She turned her back on him and started toward the door. “You may spare