Page 11 of Bloom

Jaime gave Aleric the last two doses in secret the next day. Olivier seemed a bit off almost like he couldn’t believe Aleric was getting better.

Aleric mostly slept. With the fever receding and only eating small meals, Jaime wasn’t surprised. His body had been through a lot, and he wouldn’t regain his energy for a while. He wasn’t able to finish his midafternoon snack, although it might have been because he was miserable after Lord Monet wasn’t sure if Mighty would be rideable again.

He told his son what happened after he passed out. Some of the hair on Mighty’s back had fallen out. Olivier couldn’t figure out what the substance was, and he guessed it was the sap from a plant he wasn’t familiar with. It might have reacted with sweat which was why Mighty had grown more and more agitated. With Aleric riding her, his weight had put pressure on her back and ground the poison into her which hadn’t helped.

Jaime was sure Olivier knew exactly what it was if he was in on a plot to kill Aleric.

Andy the stableboy had vanished, and nobody in the area had seen him. Lord Monet had no idea who was responsible for the attack because Andy certainly wasn’t the mastermind. Someone had paid him off.

Aleric’s brow remained furrowed as he picked at his snack. Not only had he nearly died, his horse had been hurt and frightened. She might not be rideable again. What if she remembered the last time and associated it with pain? She might panic the moment Aleric or anyone tried to mount her.

They had no one to punish for that or trying to kill him. Perhaps guards would return with good news. At the moment, they had little to go on, and Lord Monet’s frustration was evident.

Except Aleric must have known more. Why he wasn’t telling Father was a mystery, and Jaime ached to ask him.

Aleric seemed more awake after a small dinner he’d slowly eaten. Lord Monet had finally left to go to his rooms and sleep in there. Jaime, sitting by the window, wondered if he could finally have any answers.

“Your Father appears to know nothing about Olivier. You do.” Jaime tilted his head. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why?”

Aleric, sitting up in bed with a cup of juice, side-eyed him. “Excuse me if I don’t go blurting out everything.”

Jaime spread his hands. “Am I supposed to stay half in the dark? What do you plan to do? Also, did you bring me here to use as some sort of guard with no prior warning? That’s kind of fucked up.” Aleric looked away. “Well? At least answer that last question.”

His voice considerably rose, and Aleric focused on the wall near the privy room door. “Don’t yell at me.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Jaime balled his fists on the armrests even though he’d said he wouldn’t get pissed. “How about if I just walk out right now?”

“You can’t leave unless I say.”

“Maybe I’ll go beg your Father and say it’s not fair I was dragged into this. You can deal with your brother on your own.”

He felt like shit for saying that when real fear flashed in Aleric’s eyes, and he wanted to take it back.

“Fine. Take your shit and get the fuck out. Don’t let the door hit your arse on the way out.”

Just like that? What the fuck?

“You’d really let me stroll out?”

“I don’t feel like hearing you threaten to leave. Do you want to go so badly? Bye.”

“You’re a prick for using people and then getting so nasty with them.”

Aleric pointed at the door. “Piss off. I’m not forcing you to stay here.”

“You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me.”

“Thanks for rubbing it in my face, asshole.”

“Is it Gautier? You said his name after you fell. You don’t seem to like him, and I don’t think it’s because you’re an arse about chess.”

Aleric stared ahead. “Watch what the fuck you say when you don’t have all of the facts.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “You keep your doors locked, don’t you? Except you didn’t earlier because you were carried right in. You feel safer with me around. That’s why you decided to take me as a sort of partial slave. You think someone’s going to be waiting one day when you come in. I doubt Olivier decided on his own to kill you. You said Gautier did it, but he’s an old family friend. Still, he could marry Zacharie to get the position of lord, except that’s years away since Lord Monet is well. Do they plan to kill Lord Monet? With or without Gautier, you’ve got a brother who might want everything.”

“Don’t start running your mouth and picking whoever with your half-assed facts. You’ll make a fool of yourself if you point the finger at someone.”

Jaime gritted his teeth. Why couldn’t he just get a straight answer? Aleric’s replies made it sound like it could be them or not, and Jaime almost wanted to shake him.

“Father won't hear a word like that, and if you say anything against his other son, he won’t let you go,” continued Aleric. “Not with that kind of talk smearing Zacharie’s name. He’ll blame me and probably take it out on you by tossing you in prison for making up wild accusations about Zacharie. He’ll probably think you paid off someone to attack me. After that, you’ll wish you’d kept quiet.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm sure someone will be paid to buy you and make sure you never talk again. Not Father, but someone else. So if you want to go, get out, and keep your mouth shut.”

“Why didn’t you say something before? Why can’t I get a proper answer now? Do you have any idea how maddening you are?”

Aleric let out a rough laugh and shook his head. “Like I’d blurt out my issues to a man I barely know. Are you that stupid? Why don’t I make a notice and tell the whole city so they can all think I’m crazy too? Do you have any idea how dangerous it can be to drop names?”

Jaime’s face burned. Of course, he wouldn’t blab everything on day one, but he could talk now. “Is it someone else? Have I somehow gotten everything wildly wrong? Come on-”

“You wouldn’t even believe it anyway.”

“Do you think I’m going to run and work for this person? Is that what you’re thinking? If you can’t tell me because I’m new and you barely know me, why don’t you tell your Father? If he’s not seeing certain things, but you are, he needs to know. Explain it to him. You were attacked, and he can't deny-”

“Jaime, just stop. You’re getting on my nerves. You don’t know shit about my life beyond whatever bits of gossip get around, and you haven’t known me for that long. You barely know anyone here.”

“You could tell me what’s going on. I’m here now! I could get to know you and help-”

“And be called a liar again? No, thanks.”

Again? He’d tried to tell Father or another before? What was going on in this court?

“Is it your Father? Is Lord Monet trying to set you aside because he prefers his younger son?”

Jaime regretted the words as soon as the empty cup came hurtling toward his head. It missed, hit the wall, and shattered on the floor.

“What the fuck?!” He jumped out of the chair because other things were in Aleric's reach to throw.

“Fuck you!” Aleric shouted as he sat up more. “Don’t you dare ever speak about my Father like-”

“For fuck’s sake, I just asked-”

“You don’t know shit, so get the out-”

“I’m trying to ‘know shit,’ but you won’t tell me, and you’re being an absolute prick about it!”

“You’re not going to sit there and insult my Father like a damn prick. I better not ever hear another word out of your mouth about him.” Aleric shifted onto his knees and pointed at the door. “Get. Out.”

If looks could kill…Aleric’s chest heaved, although not because he was deathly ill anymore. His face had flushed with rage, and Jaime was pretty sure if he didn’t leave the room, the juice jug was going to take a trip toward his skull. Without another word, he left without a backward glance. He almost expected something to nail the back of his head before he closed the door.

He paused by the couch and took a deep breath while wobbling between wanting to apologize and shake Aleric until his brains rattled. Both would require returning to the bedroom. No, thanks.

If Lord Monet was truly innocent, Jaime had just stepped over a major line. Most sons would be enraged to hear their Father falsely accused.

In his position, Jaime would also be outraged if anyone talked shit about his Father. He’d deck them in the face. Aleric didn’t have the energy to get out of bed and punch Jaime.

Lord Monet hadn’t left his son alone for very long, and he’d slept in the room for two nights. Any man could pretend to care, but if a Father was trying to get rid of the oldest, that was a lot of trouble to go through.

Also, Aleric hadn’t seemed frightened or worried about his Father’s presence. He’d even told Lord Monet to use the other side of the bed since it was big enough for two people to sleep in without bothering each other. It seemed Lord Monet was a blanket thief in his sleep, and that’s why he’d declined. Jaime heard the lock click on the bedroom door and wondered if he should grab his shit and walk out. Aleric had sounded pretty done with him since a line had been crossed.

Jaime might regret his rash anger in the morning. Or in a couple of days. Alone, he already knew what would start eating him.

He hesitated as his thoughts warred. He could go because he owed Aleric nothing. The lord’s son had twisted things to get him in his grasp and treated him like shit even though Jaime had helped him more than once. Aleric was alive because of him. He was a dickhead, and nearly dying hadn’t changed him. He was a lot of things that Jaime didn’t like.

But he was alive because a couple of people hadn’t walked away at crucial points when he was a child, and he wished to Elira things had gone differently when he was a kid. At least he’d been given a chance.

If anyone, just one person, had said something and tried to warn Jaime’s family, nobody would have had to specifically save him as a child and bleed out in the process.

He'd likely still be at home with his family.

If Aleric couldn’t tell his Father, he had nobody and was stuck. Nobody would be coming to save him.

He ran through the few courtiers he’d seen, wondering if there were pieces he was missing since he hadn’t been there for very long. He only knew one by name. Lord Gautier, or Alexandre, had been rebuffed when he offered his arm. That could have been because Aleric had an attitude about games even if he won and didn’t want to show respect to the loser.

Or Aleric hated him because he knew Gautier wanted him dead. Lord Gautier was with the younger son. That right there was a bit “ew” in Jaime’s mind even though they seemed happy. Deep down, he couldn’t quite get over the age difference.

He'd also been accused of rape. Perhaps his explanation of what “actually” happened was a lie, and Jaime had been stupid to believe his tale.

He stared at the closed main door as he tried to imagine how long Lord Monet had. He had to be between forty-five and fifty and not too much older than Alexandre. If Lord Monet remained healthy and didn’t pass beforehand, he’d likely abdicate in his sixties or seventies and enjoy retirement. If Aleric was dead, Zacharie would inherit along with his spouse. By the time Gautier got the Earldom thanks to marriage, he might not have that much time left to enjoy it because he wasn’t far behind in age.

Lord Monet could have an accident too, and Gautier would have more time to enjoy being the Earl while having a young piece of ass in his bed. Unless Jaime was looking at the completely wrong people and missing a crucial piece. Aleric would cuss him out if he knocked and demanded answers. He could grab his stuff and try to go which would mean leaving Aleric alone.

If the Master Steward had left Jaime, he'd be dead. He could have run ahead to save himself. It was because he’d been trying to carry Jaime through the tunnel that he’d gone slower, and he’d been injured by a lone bastard who’d caught up.

He was alive because someone besides his parents had cared and paid with his life to get Jaime out even with everything else lost. If Father was alive, Jaime could imagine his words.

“We didn’t raise you to be a coward. People gave their lives to protect you, and you’d run away from a lone man in need?”

If Jaime walked out, Aleric might find himself on the wrong end of a sword pretty soon just like his parents and the Master Steward. One day, he might hear that Lord Monet’s son had passed from illness or an accident, and he'd know he'd left a man to die.

“Your Father gave me a purpose after my wife passed and I lost my job. He’s a good man, and I can tell you’re going to grow up to be like him.”

Jaime hadn’t fully understood the Master Steward's words back then. He still remembered Jed’s big, jolly laugh. He’d towered over four-year-old Jaime, but he hadn’t been scary. He'd loved riding on Jed’s shoulders so he could feel big too. Back then, he’d thought he’d live in the Castle with his parents forever.

He sat on the couch and stared at the empty fireplace. He’d stay and try again in the morning. If Aleric flipped out on him and guards tossed Jaime outside on his arse, well…he couldn’t force someone to accept help.

He could try.