Page 9 of Bloom

He snapped awake and jerked his head up. Why was Aleric’s breathing so fast? The curtains were drawn shut across the window, and the faint glow around their edges said morning had barely arrived.

“Aleric?” Jaime pulled his hand from Aleric’s hot one and stiffly stood to tap the crystal lantern brighter.

Aleric was sweating and deathly pale with a faint pinkish tint to his skin.

“Father?” He didn’t open his eyes, and he sounded weaker and far worse than yesterday.

Jaime touched his forehead to find him burning hot. “Lord Monet!” He practically tripped as he rushed around the bed.

“Eh?” Lord Monet lifted his head and jerked when Jaime grabbed his arm. “What?”

“Aleric’s worse.”

Lord Monet grunted as he threw off the blanket and reached for his cane. “Son?”

“I’ll get Olivier.”

Thankfully, Jaime remembered where his rooms were, and it didn’t take much pounding before the door opened to reveal the physician in his sleep clothes.

“Aleric looks fevered, he’s gasping, and he’s really pale, and his breathing is fast,” Jaime babbled in a rush. “I woke up, and he's worse!”

“Fuck. He might have an infection.” Olivier left his door open as he turned away.

“You healed him! That prevents infection.”

“Usually, but not always. Have you ever been seriously injured?”

“Er, no, but-”

Olivier grabbed his cloak from a hook and threw it on as he raced across the room. “Infection can still happen at times. Or there might have been poison on the spear or arrow.” He opened a cabinet and yanked out a few bottles. A worktable by it was covered in bowls, bottles, and herbs Jaime didn’t recognize. A huge bundle of yellow leaves was soaking in a bowl, and he smelled something. Alcohol?

More herbs hung from the ceiling in dried bundles, and another closed cabinet didn’t have glass doors, so he couldn’t see inside.

Olivier was hastily measuring a few things into a short, glass bottle. Likely something for fever and infection. Jaime didn't know much about medicine beyond the barest things, and he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding.

“If healing doesn’t stop an infection-it gets in the bloodstream, and healing magic isn’t a cure-all for every damn thing,” continued Olivier. “I can’t poke my fingers through all of his veins and clean his blood.”

“I’m sorry. I-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Olivier dropped a few things into a leather case and grabbed the short bottle.

Jaime followed him upstairs. Aleric had turned on his side to curl up and was still heavily breathing like it was a struggle as Lord Monet grasped his shoulder.

“He’s here.”

Aleric’s fever-bright eyes opened to focus on Olivier. “G-get the fuck out.”

His breathless voice was ragged, and he was shaking.

“He’ll give you medicine.”

“Fuck off.”

“He’s not well. Don’t take it personally.” Olivier set his case down.

Jaime hastily backed out. He had a feeling they’d held him down the night before, and if they did that again, it’d be embarrassing if he watched even if Aleric didn’t remember later. Jaime went to sit on the couch. Lord Monet’s soothing voice came through the door as Jaime sat on the couch and rubbed his eyes. He shouldn’t have gone to sleep. Aleric weakly shouted.

How long had he been struggling to breathe while Jaime slept like a damn baby four inches away? Damn it. He should have sat up and remained awake so he would have noticed earlier when his breathing became hard. What if he died because Jaime hadn’t heard anything until too late, and Aleric hadn’t been able to get either up?

He heard his name from Aleric. More than once. What if in his fever, he’d jumbled things together and was telling them Jaime was responsible for everything? Lord Monet came out after a minute, and Jaime waited for a wild accusation to be thrown in his face.

“Aleric wants you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He says he won’t take the medicine unless you give it to him.”

Jaime pointed at himself. “I’m not a physician. I don’t know what that stuff is.”

“Jaime, please. We had to hold him down last night and force medicine into him. He’s upset and telling Olivier to get out. Go in.”

“I hope you die…in agony,” Aleric’s faint voice came from the bedroom.

“You expect me to deal with that?!” Jaime jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You’re his Father.”

“He asked for you, and I don’t want to hold him down again. He needs the medicine, and the way he’s breathing is scaring me. If he demands you sing Round Rooster while giving it to him, just do it!”

“Okay, okay.” Aleric was probably going to tell him to die in agony too. Fevers could make people go half wild in their heads, and a scared man might say anything when he can’t make his brain work right.

Olivier looked as though his Mother had been dreadfully insulted when Jaime stepped in. “He wants you.”

Aleric’s shoulders heaved as he clutched the blankets around him. “Everyone out.”

“Aleric-”

“Out. N-now. Just Jaime…”

Lord Monet gave Jaime a push forward. “Will you take the damn medicine if Jaime gives it to you?”

“Uh-huh.” It was faint, but Jaime heard his reply.

Olivier’s face further pinched as he pointed at the short bottle he’d mixed. “Give him the whole thing. Don’t spill it. Give him one spoonful of this.” He tapped the cork on a jar of greenish liquid with leafy bits floating in it. “Two teaspoons of this.” He touched a bigger bottle filled with murky liquid and pointed at a cup with a spoon by it. “Put the doses in the cup and support his head if he needs it.”

Jaime was pretty sure the murky medicine was the same nasty shit Mother had given him once when he was small and sniffly. It had smelled and tasted like cod liver oil, although other things had been in it, and he’d hated it. “Okay. Whole bottle. One spoonful of the green shit in the jar, and two from the big bottle.”

“Give him water too.”

“Out,” gasped Aleric.

Lord Monet and the physician left. Once the door shut, Jaime approached. “Why do you want me to give it to you?”

He had an idea although it was quite childish. Aleric was a damn adult.

“Put it in the c-cup,” whispered Aleric. “Dump it down the privy. The bottle too.”

Jaime paused with the bottle. “What? No.”

“Do it. He’ll think you gave it to me if he checks…the level.”

“No!” Jaime kept his voice low. “I know you’re sick and feel like absolute shit. You can’t avoid it just because it tastes bad or whatever. We’re trying to help you.”

“Jaime,” gasped Aleric.

“What? I’m right here.”

“Please. Do it. Everything he said to give…”

Jaime crouched by the bed. “Aleric, why are you being like-”

Aleric slipped a hand out from under the blanket to grip his arm. “Dump it. He’s trying to kill me.”

“Huh?” Had the fever fried his senses? “No, he’s not. I don’t know what you were dreaming-”

“It’s poison. Everything he gave me yesterday…it shouldn’t be this hard to breathe. My heart-”

“Aleric, listen to me. You lost a lot of blood, and you have a fever from an infection.”

Aleric’s fingers dug into Jaime’s forearm. “...tried to kill me last month. I wasn’t feverish then. I didn’t dream it…”

Jaime paused as he tried to think if that was all a sickness-induced nightmare too.

“This isn’t normal,” whispered Aleric. “My lungs…”

Jaime had never seen anyone with an infection after a serious injury. Everyone who’d fought that one night was dead. He was the only one who’d lived. Nobody in the village had ever been seriously injured, and he had nothing to compare it to.

Three men had tried to kill Aleric just yesterday. Andy had played a part because someone had made him do it. The enemy isn’t always outside, and a physician can be a part of a plot too even though in most cases, a person's first instinct is to trust the one who can heal and make medicine.

“What am I supposed to give you?”

“Nothing. Don’t trust anything Olivier gives you.”

Was Jaime actually considering this? What if Aleric was hallucinating? Who knew what he’d dreamed the night before? He could be twisting reality with dreams, and if the medicine was fine, he’d be denying Aleric something he needed to live.

“I don’t want to die like this. They’ll hold me down. Like last night…force me to drink it-I won’t last another night.”

If the physician was trying to kill Aleric, he’d have money to hire someone. He knew all sorts of people who also had money and connections.

Maybe Zacharie was a part of this. He hadn’t visited. A young man who came later might very well decide his older brother is worth sacrificing. Lord Monet likely wouldn’t even suspect him.

“Fuck.” Jaime measured out the medicine to dump into the cup.

“Don’t tell,” whispered Aleric.

Lord Monet would put him in a noose if he found out his son hadn’t received his medicine. Jaime took the cup and the short bottle into the privy room. Olivier had mixed it right in front of him, but that didn’t mean much. A bottle didn’t have to contain what the label said, and several hadn’t been marked. Only Olivier truly knew what all he had, and who’d suspect him? Besides Aleric.

Killing a man with what appeared to be a terrible fever their weakened body couldn’t handle was a good idea.

Jaime poured the contents down the privy. What if this was insane, and Aleric croaked in a few hours because the fever weakened him too much? A person needs more than a day to replenish blood, and he hadn’t been eating or drinking as much as one should. If he died, it might be Jaime’s fault.

Unless he got medicine Aleric could trust.

When he returned, Aleric watched him with glassy eyes. His expression was not that of a trusting man.

“Now what?” Jaime set the bottle and the medicine cup on the bedside table.

Aleric's deep breath was almost painful to listen to since it was labored. “Water. Wash the cup out in the privy. The pitcher too. Refill it. If he put anything in it or drugged the water…I was drugged last month.”

“How? Is there anyone else I need to be worried about right now?”

“No. Later…”

Jaime took the cup and pitcher into the privy room. Aleric had drunk from it earlier, but if he didn’t trust it…Jaime crouched by the sunken tub to wash the cup and pitcher. Two pipes came from the wall, and the left was cold, so he used that to refill it.

He wanted to know what all was going on, but if he pushed Aleric to talk…it wasn't a good idea when he was so weak and ill.

He poured a cup for Aleric when he returned. “You have to drink, okay?”

Aleric managed to get himself up on one elbow, although Jaime had to hold the cup since he was shaking.

“Do you want me to go out and get you medicine?” Jaime asked in a low voice.

“No.” Aleric sank back down after he finished the cup.

Jaime crouched. “You’re already sick. If he poisoned you-your eyes are glassy, and your face is red. You need something. If I get it from the city, it won’t be poisoned. I wouldn’t know what antidote to get you, but I could at least get a tincture for the fever. Without another dose, it might be a poison that can wear off, and Olivier’s trying to keep you topped off with it until your body gives out.”

He didn’t trust Jaime either despite him tossing the medicine. Aleric, on his back, stared at the ceiling with such a blank face, Jaime almost thought he’d slipped down a little more into the fever.

Aleric’s lips barely moved as he spoke. “I want the bottle sealed. There’s money in the bedside drawer. Take it all. For your month’s wages…Use it.”

“Okay. I’ll have them seal it. I won’t be long. Drink more water before I go.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know, but you need fluid. You’ve barely had anything. Please.”

He helped Aleric to drink and left him under the blankets. In the top drawer of his bedside table, he found a coin purse and slipped it into the waist of his sleep pants. The other two didn’t need to know he’d taken money or start asking questions. In the sitting room, Olivier was seated on the couch with Lord Monet and looking quite miffed.

It was impossible to tell if he was miffed because his patient had preferred someone else or if he was afraid he might fail in killing Aleric.

“What took you so long?”

Jaime stood in front of the cold fireplace. “I sat with him for a bit.”

“You gave him everything like I said?”

“Yes. Aleric took it fine, and I gave him water too. He doesn’t want you doing it again. I can see why.”

Lord Monet narrowed his eyes, and Olivier furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Since Jaime had wondered if Aleric’s refusal had a rather childish reason, he decided to use it. “Well…I mean…don’t take it the wrong way, but he’s known you for years, right?”

“Yes.”

“There you go.” Jaime paused like it should be obvious.

“What on Ymir’s dirt are you talking about?” asked Lord Monet.

Jaime sighed. “When I was a kid, I broke my wrist once.” That was the truth. He’d fallen out of a tree in the back garden. “We had a wise woman with healing magic, and she fixed me up. She had to adjust my wrist a little so the bone and joint would be lined up correctly. It hurt. When I got sick once, she gave me medicine that tasted so bad, I nearly threw up. I kinda didn’t like her because I associated her with pain and stuff that made me feel sick. I know she was a good person, but it’s…just the thought process.”

Neither looked entirely convinced.

“I’m sure Aleric has been sick before. Or injured, although not like yesterday. With you hovering and giving him stuff while he’s feverish, he’s probably not feeling very kind to you. You even said to not take things he says or does personally.”

Olivier rubbed his chin. “I suppose…but he’s not a child. He shouldn’t fear me.”

“He’s quite sick, and even a lot of adults associate physicians with feeling sick and find them off-putting,” said Jaime. “He went through something absolutely terrifying yesterday. I don’t think he’s concerned with behaving like an adult in your eyes when he doesn’t even have the energy to get up. I’m pretty new, and he doesn’t associate me with good or bad simply because he doesn’t know me that well, so…plus, he’s weak, and maybe he doesn’t want people seeing him like that. People who’ve known him. I’m a commoner. My opinion hardly matters.”

Lord Monet scratched his head. “It does make sense.”

“It sounds silly,” muttered Olivier. “He’s not five.”

“He’s not exactly himself at all,” said Lord Monet. “Jaime's right. Some people can appreciate the work a physician does and still dislike being treated and the process involved. He’s also probably quite pissed too that we held him down yesterday to give him his doses.”

“That was for his own good,” complained Olivier. “It’s not like we did it because we wanted to.”

Lord Monet waved a hand. “Listen, at this point, I don’t care what Aleric’s reasoning is. If he wants Jaime to give him the medicine, and that calms him down, let him.”

“I’m the physician! I didn’t study for years to let a commoner take over my job.”

“Let him,” Lord Monet said with a faint edge. “You know what to give him. Jaime knows what a spoonful is and how to help a man drink from a bottle. He doesn’t need to study for it, and it’s not like we’re replacing you. I’d rather my son take his medicine with less fuss and get better. If this is the way, then so be it. When does Aleric need more?”

“Noon,” mumbled Olivier.

“Er, I was going to ask if I can take a ride through C?te,” asked Jaime.

“Why?” asked Lord Monet.

“Just to get out and clear my head. I'll be back before noon.”

“This has been quite stressful on everyone,” Olivier muttered to the Earl. “Maybe it’s best. He just got here, and all of this happened.”

“If you’re back before noon, that’s fine,” said Lord Monet. “You’ll take a guard with you.”

Maybe he wasn’t afraid of Jaime being responsible for anything. After all, he’d helped, and he’d also woken Lord Monet when he realized Aleric’s condition was worse. If he was a part of anything to kill him, why not remain quiet and hope the son slipped away in his sleep?

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get dressed and eat,” said Olivier. “Sit with Aleric, and if anything changes, come get me.”

“I will.”

***

The guard had likely heard the news, and he must have been the type who talks too much when he’s nervous since he damn near yapped off Jaime’s ears as they rode through the city.

He only stopped when Jaime paused his borrowed mount in front of an apothecary. “What are you doing?”

“I want to get something.”

The guard pointed back at the Castle. “Uh, they’ve got a physician. He’ll give you whatever for free.”

“When I feel stressed and kinda down, I get a tincture to help me,” fibbed Jaime. “I don’t want to tell the physician to make me anything when the lord’s son is…unwell. He has more important things to worry about.”

The guard blinked at him like taking a tincture for stress and feeling down was silly, and Jaime needed to tough it out. “Whatever.”

Jaime slipped into the shop that smelled of herbs. An undertone of lavender reminded him of Aleric. A glass counter held jars and bottles, mostly for common ailments such as rashes, coughs, and minor pains.

He told the man behind the counter that he wanted liquid medicine for fevers. “Four doses. Can you seal the bottle too? I want to have it on hand just in case.”

The man nodded before he went to the back. He didn’t know Jaime and wouldn’t suspect who it was for. Jaime leaned on the counter and pretended to look at the jars and bottles while he thought.

He remembered playing by himself one day at the age of five. While running through the Castle and pretending to hunt evil ogres, he’d run into a storage room to find a man and a woman against each other with their clothes partially off.

They’d yelled at him to get out while trying to cover themselves, and he’d run, hardly knowing what to make of the situation. Not long passed before the guy had come to find him in an empty sitting room and bribed him with sweets to stay quiet and never say a word about what he’d seen. As long as he said nothing, he’d get more honey sticks.

So while court can be treacherous, it doesn’t always involve life and death. When one wants something quite badly to where they’re willing to do anything to get it…Olivier could be an accomplice just like Jaime had been one, although his role had been quite small, and he hadn’t fully understood things. All he’d known was that if he kept quiet about what he’d seen, more honey sticks might be in his future.

For Olivier, money and perhaps status awaited him, and he fully understood his role including how serious the consequences were. He wouldn’t blab to anyone like Jaime had a month later when the honey sticks stopped coming.

Many people want things even if it's just a secret screw in a private room, and they might need another to do something or at least keep quiet. Some want far bigger things as Jaime had later learned at the age of seven, and he was dealing with such a situation again in a different way.

If Zacharie got rid of his older brother, he’d be the next Earl, and not only would he have C?te, he’d also have a small village on the opposite side of Soleil and by the coast. Lord Monet owned two locations, and that brought more than enough money. C?te was thriving with the ports and the farmlands that lay beyond the main part of the city itself. Jaime didn’t know about the village since he’d never been that far west in Soleil, and he wasn’t sure of the name. His last landlady had forgotten the village’s name.

People had killed for far less, and since Zacharie was with Gautier, Aleric’s words after falling might not be so far-fetched. The animosity Aleric had shown toward him before had to come from somewhere, right?

Zacharie and Gautier could have hired men who cared about money more than morals and were willing to attempt to kill a higher-up. If Aleric survived, there was the accomplice, the physician. If Aleric died due to infection and weakness from being unable to replenish his blood…oops. The physician wasn’t the Goddess and couldn’t cure all. Lord Monet didn’t seem like the sort who would itch to punish anyone to make himself feel better over the loss and have Olivier imprisoned or hanged.

He needed Aleric to get better and explain the truth because Jaime might be entirely wrong and twisting things since he didn’t have all of the details. Perhaps Zacharie was solely responsible. What if Aleric had meant to say his name and mixed it up in his head?

Jaime also needed to know if the night he’d been chased had simply been viewed as a good opportunity for Aleric to get a fresh person on his side. Jaime was no weakling, and he owned a weapon.

If so, Aleric was using him. Jaime didn’t like that, but what could he do? Walk away? No. Walking away isn’t so easy. Jaime was alive because others hadn’t abandoned him.