Jaime ducked his face to hide from a sharp lance of light from the window, wishing he could sleep longer. Yet the sun was too warm and too bright; he yawned and stretched himself awake.
The room he was in was nothing like the armory from hours before. Here was warmth and soft cushions, lush rugs, and downy bed linens. A view from the window beside the bed opened to a stunning vista of golden mountains bathed in dawn’s light and the sparkling hint of the sea beyond the frosted tops of pine trees. Jaime slid from the bed, the sun-warmed rug under his toes keeping his feet from the chill of the marble floors, and went to the window.
The sun had burned away the frost, and he had the clearest, most amazing view of the harbor, Taliesin City, the edge of the forest that swept up to the mountains, and the sea beyond it all. He sent his gaze north, the sun clearing from behind the mountains to the east. Maxim’s room had the most stunning of views, and Jaime marveled that anyone would be able to leave this window and live life with so much beauty to be seen. He pressed his palm to the glass, the deep cold settling into the bones of his hand at odds with the golden warmth of the sun gilding everything he could see.
A door opened, and Jaime turned his head, leaving his hand on the window. A servant, one Jaime recognized from the kitchens, smiled at him in greeting and gestured back over his shoulder. “His Highness invites you to break your fast with him in the sitting room,” the servant said, and Jaime blushed but smiled back.
“He does, does he?” Jaime said, fighting the rising heat of his cheeks, but the chuckle from the servant had him lifting his chin and turning from the window. If the servants did not care that he spent his early morning hours in the prince’s bed, albeit alone, Jaime would not care either. He sought his leather shoes, but couldn’t find them. He mentally shrugged and followed the servant from the room. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name.”
“Mischa is my name, and I don’t think you ever learned it, not with your head down as far as you had it and fear bending your spirit,” Mischa replied, opening the door wider for Jaime and pointing him to the table where Jaime first met Maxim. The low settee beside the fireplace still bore the blankets and pillows Maxim used earlier that morning when he gave Jaime his bed to sleep in alone. Maxim already sat at the table, hair a tumbled mess, exhaustion writ across his features, but his eyes were clear. Jaime was so absorbed in cataloging Maxim’s appearance that he almost missed the sassy rejoinder from Mischa.
“I wasn’t that bad, surely?” Jaime asked, stopping abruptly. Mischa busied himself at the trolley, pulling it out of the way by the door.
“You’ve found a reason not to be afraid anymore,” Mischa replied, dipping his head in Maxim’s direction. Maxim lifted a brow in query but said nothing, sipping on hot chocolate. Mischa gave a cheery wave and pulled the trolley out the door. “I’ll pass along your best to Cook. He’d love to see you anytime you’re free.”
Jaime gawked as the door shut behind Mischa, and Maxim broke out in laughter. “Sit, love. The food is still warm.”
Jaime went to the table and pulled out a chair and sat, mind reeling a bit. He picked at a slice of bacon, nibbling, before he burst out, “This land is so odd. I’ve never seen a place where servants talk so freely, or nobles are so lenient. If Mischa spoke thusly in Eistrea, he’d be beaten and cast out without job or references.”
“Thank goodness we’re not in Eistrea,” Maxim replied and reached across the table and took Jaime’s hand in his. “If we were in Eistrea, I’d never be able to court a healer’s apprentice, or even speak to one, for that matter. Princes and commoners would never be as we are here.”
Jaime looked down at their joined hands and squeezed tightly, holding on. Maxim tightened his grip as well, both holding on as if their lives depended on it. “If we were in Eistrea, I would be dead or still in chains. I’m so very grateful that I’m not. That storm that damaged the ship carrying me north saved my life.”
“That storm brought you into my life,” Maxim replied, eyes catching with Jaime’s, holding as their hands did. “I’ve never been happier.”
“Even with…?” Jaime couldn’t voice the obvious.
“My father has been joking that he’s been dying for a decade,” Maxim said, lush lips twisting up in a grin. Maxim motioned to the food, and Jaime reluctantly withdrew his hand and ladled some sausage and brown gravy over sweet honey buns. “I know he’s dying this time. Master Eames was clear he hasn’t long left. I can still fall in love while my heart breaks with grief.”
Jaime paused. He lifted his eyes back to Maxim. He swallowed his fear and spoke quietly. “Falling in love?”
Maxim nodded once and drank his hot chocolate, eyes intent on Jaime’s face. “I’ve been falling for forever, it feels like. I have trouble recalling my life before I saw you that cold morning weeks ago, clinging to the back of Captain Marcus’ stallion when he brought you to the palace.”
“You were in the courtyard?” Jaime asked, food forgotten.
Maxim nodded, looking down for a short moment, and he breathed out on a long exhale before looking back at Jaime. “I was preparing to ride into the city to inspect the training center for the city guard. Captain Marcus and his squadron returned just as I was getting ready to leave, but I was there long enough to get the gist of what occurred. I saw a young man, beaten and scarred, but still strong enough to be alive after months of untold horror. Your will to survive inspired me, and I was never happier than when I saw you still here in the palace that morning you brought me my breakfast. It meant you’d decided to make Pyrderi your home, and I could get to know you.”
Jaime blinked, tears at the corners of his eyes. Maxim put down his drink and sat back in his chair, eyes distant as he remembered.
“The slavers who were arrested were found guilty, one and all, of slavery, and the ship was destroyed so it could never again be used to steal lives and freedoms. All contents were sold or auctioned off for reparations to those wrongly held, including you. The funds were added to your accounts held in trust here at the palace. You aren’t wealthy, but you’ve more than enough money to start over elsewhere, if you wished.”
“Elsewhere?” Jaime asked, heart hurting.
“I hope you choose to stay,” Maxim answered, fingers tapping the tablecloth. “You have a profession you were born for, and I would give you the world to stay.”
“I don’t want the world,” Jaime said. Maxim lifted his eyes, and Jaime’s heart exalted at the hope he saw there. “I just want you. Is a prince too much to ask for?”
“Not this prince, and not here,” Maxim replied, and he pushed back from the table and stood, rounding the table to Jaime’s side. Jaime stood, his hands lifting to circle Maxim’s neck. “This prince is yours, forever, if you’ll have him.”
“Maxim.” Jaime breathed out, lifting his chin, asking without words for something he wanted desperately.
“Jaime, my love,” Maxim said, his words as soft as his kiss.
He felt as if he were floating, his feet not touching the ground, though he knew he was riding the emotional high of Maxim’s kisses. Many kisses had followed the first, and Maxim’s declaration of love careened through Jaime’s heart and soul, his emotional state alternating between terror and glee.
Jaime found himself back in the healer wing, and he drifted to his room, grabbing a spare uniform before hurrying to the small bathing room at the end of the hall. The room was empty, and he took a hot bath as quickly as he could, only taking the time to dry his hair thoroughly so he didn’t get sick in the winter weather. Maxim had invited him to stay and use his private bathing chambers, but Jaime had politely refused, not knowing if he was ready to get naked with Maxim in the next room. He needed time alone with his thoughts, to smile like a besotted idiot, and maybe giggle before dunking himself in the deep tub.
Clean and changed, Jaime stopped at his room once more, dropping off his dirty clothing and grabbing a medical journal he was attempting to read in his spare time. It was still his free day, and he was going to meet Maxim in the royal residency, the wing of the palace reserved solely for the king and his relations. Maxim should be with his father, enjoying a light lunch.
Jaime hadn’t seen Greaves, but it was his mentor’s free day as well, and he reasoned that Greaves was as far from the healers’ wing as he could get. Greaves was devoted to this duty and calling, but Jaime had no idea what the man did in his free time, however, he suspected it wasn’t hanging around the infirmary. He left the infirmary swiftly. He felt a bit guilty that he managed to slip out without being seen, but his heart and mind were distracted and firmly fixed on rejoining Maxim as soon as possible. He caught no sign of Master Eames or any of the other senior healers before he slipped out the door of the healers’ wing. Perhaps that was a sign that there were no emergencies and his free day would remain so—or maybe that they had been called away to attend to the king.
Clutching the book to his chest, Jamie did his best to move as fast as he could through the palace without running, retracing the path he took less than an hour before when he left Maxim’s suite. The main hallways were steadily growing busier with staff, servants, and assorted nobles all going about their individual agendas for the day. Jaime was dressed in his senior novice robes, and people actually saw him and made an effort not to bump into him or obstruct his way, which took some getting used to, being seen by other people and given a measure of respect.
He was musing over the change of fortune his life received in the last several weeks when he managed to find his way back to the grand entrance of the king’s private chambers. The mere fact that he was wearing robes that gave him a sort of rank, and that he was politely granted admittance to a king’s private rooms, left him floundering for a moment before the reassuring sight of Maxim calmed his rising unease. Maxim was speaking to his mother, Queen Amal, the words too quiet for Jaime to distinguish, but he could discern the rough emotion in their undertones and defeated postures. The doors closing behind Jaime drew their attention from their conversation.
Queen Amal gave Jaime a small smile and a polite nod and welcome before turning back to her son. She made an effort to speak more clearly, as if she didn’t want to be rude, an assumption on his part he still found hard to believe. “Maxim, I have to attend a council meeting with Janis, and I will be absent for most of the afternoon. Elric has tasked the magi to recall Diana, and I am not expecting a response for a couple more days. Please stay with your father while your brother and I prepare the Council… For the inevitable.”
Maxim gave a short nod, expression grim. “Of course, Mother. I’ll send for you and Janis immediately if anything changes. Father would like to see Jaime again, so we’ll have a healer in attendance if one is needed.”
Queen Amal cupped Maxim’s cheek, a tender expression on her face, her eyes identical to her son’s. “We shall only be a few hours.”
Maxim gave his mother a hug, one that Jaime was pleased to see that she returned with equal emotion. Jaime knew next to nothing of the queen who was Maxim’s mother, but his early impressions of her were that she was reserved and polite, but genuinely loved her children.
Jaime stepped to the side and bowed at the waist as she passed him leaving the suite. The doors closed behind her leaving Jaime alone with Maxim. His prince looked rested, for all that they got only a handful of hours sleep earlier that morning. Maxim no longer looked the part of disheveled rogue or fearsome warrior, dressed once again in his princely armor of exquisite clothing and bearing. If it were not for the teasing glint and appreciative slant to his smile, Jamie might not have seen the real Maxim under the carefully cultivated exterior.
“You look far different than this morning,” Jaime said restlessly fidgeting with the book he held. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen you look so dashing since Prince Janis opened the Solstice Festival. What is the special occasion?”
“My father called in all his chief ministers and councilmembers. Thankfully most of them were in attendance for the Solstice Festival, and the rest should be here the day of the ball. Father, along with Master Eames, has determined that this is his last few days. My father believes in being proactive, so he is not waiting for his death to set things in order. I believe this will be the smoothest transition of power in decades.” Maxim sounded both utterly defeated and oddly proud. “Janis will have next to nothing to do until his coronation.”
Jaime abandoned his position by the door and crossed the room to Maxim, taking one of his hands in Jaime’s own. Maxim grabbed back tightly, as he always did, holding Jamie’s hand as if afraid to let go. He actually enjoyed the hard clasp of their fingers, squeezing back firmly himself. Maxim appeared to be the perfectly composed Prince, but the fine tremor along his arm and the pallor of his skin betrayed just how deeply affected he was. King Llyr was correct—Maxim had yet to know grief of this magnitude, and Jaime feared the damage it would do to him. Maxim was an odd juxtaposition of jaded experience and guileless innocence; Maxim had clearly fought in battle and was a fearsome warrior, yet he trusted easily and showed the world his emotions without fear. Swordmaster Maxim may be, but death was one opponent his prince could not defeat.
The door behind Maxim opened and Master Eames exited the king’s bedroom. He gave both of them a soft greeting as he closed the door without sound behind him. “I see I do not need to send for our newest apprentice. All I need to do is look for our youngest prince and our healer should not be far away.”
Jaime cursed for the millionth time the blush that stained his cheeks. Maxim exhaled, tension easing at the gentle teasing from the senior healer. Master Eames gently patted Maxim and Jaime both on their shoulders before speaking. Master Eames gave Jaime a teasing glance, affectionate humor in his words. “His Majesty is awake and asking after our young master Buchanan. I do not believe he would object to seeing his youngest son either. Feel free to keep him company, but do not overtax him. We have a few days left with him yet, but we should not hasten the end by making the king exert himself too much. If he slips off into sleep, let him, and I trust Jamie to distinguish between a natural sleep and a more concerning state. Do not hesitate to call for me if he takes a turn for the worse. Jaime, do as you feel is best if you feel the king is faltering.”
Startled by the grave responsibility imparted to him by Master Eames, Jaime could do nothing but nod as Master Eames departed.
“Master Eames speaks highly of you. He says you were the finest student at the Corinthian Academy before your untimely departure. Healer Greaves isn’t quite as loquacious as Master Eames, but his steady endorsement does you as much credit. How long do you have before your studies are complete?”
Jaime managed to shake himself free from his shock to answer Maxim. “I have another six months of formal training and a year of light supervision then I should be vested as a full healer. I am encouraged to choose a specialty along with my regular schooling.”
“Does not the healing touch fulfill that requirement?” Maxim asked, tilting his head, his curiosity appearing to be genuine.
“For many, yes it would. But it feels like I am not doing as much work as other healers, since my gift is something innate, something I was born with, and the use of it grows easier with time. Many healers do not have the gift to carry them through some of the hardest cases, and I feel like I shouldn’t be doing less than those who are not as blessed as I am.”
Maxim shook his head, not in disbelief but a kind of beguiled awe. “What then would you choose as your specialty?”
“I was thinking…” Jaime faltered, embarrassed.
“What? Come now, it cannot be something bad. You’re already as close to a saint as anyone I’ve ever seen,” Maxim teased with a smile. Jaime tried to glare, but he could not resist smiling in return.
“History of medicine and battlefield medical techniques,” Jaime answered in a rush, Maxim’s brows flying up in surprise. Jaime was surprised as well—he had yet to speak aloud his desire to specialize in the two distinct but complementary fields of medicine. The history of medicine was full of fallacies and inaccuracies, horrendous and evil experiments, and also some of the greatest advancements in life-saving techniques known to their modern world. Many of those grand advancements came amid war, when famine, plague, and the truly horrible things that man can do to each other spurred on new leaps in ingenuity and innovation. “The first is a bit obscure and the second is perhaps too exact, but I feel they complement each other well enough to warrant further study. My gift will ensure that I do not fall too far behind my peers, and perhaps, someday, something I discover to help humankind will find its way into history books.”
“I feel strangely inadequate right now, and I haven’t felt like that since I was a child trying to learn how to ride a horse with Diana’s perfect horsemanship as my comparison. How can so much compassion still exist in your heart after everything that you have endured?”
Jaime shrugged. “I can heal one person at a time and help them in that moment. One day, I would like to discover something that means I can help many people at once and save more than one life at a time.”
Maxim stared down at Jaime with a serious expression on his face, his honey brown eyes searching for something within Jamie’s own. He did not know if Maxim found it, but the hug the prince drew him into seem to be answer enough. “One day, I hope to be worthy of you, Jaime.”
“You already are,” Jaime chided. “You’re already a prince, and I know a swordmaster when I see one. I may not have stuck my head out of the Academy all that much while I was there, but the Hellebore Empire has swordmasters aplenty, and they often needed services of the healer. The swordmasters in Hellebore served as protectors of the people and servants of justice, and I can see you doing no less here.”
Jaime could feel Maxim’s chuckle deep in his chest under his ear where it lay over Maxim’s heart. “Then let us agree we consider the other marvelous and ourselves lacking, and we can both be sainted fools. Agree?”
Jaime laughed, covering his mouth to tame the sudden explosion of sound, not wanting to disturb the king on the other side of the door. Maxim chuckled, tugged away Jaime’s hand, and lifted it to his lips. The kiss Maxim placed on his knuckles stole his breath, making him still. Maxim’s eyes glowed with affection and something far deeper, and Jaime was both afraid and cheered by the knowledge it was love. Maxim might have declared he was falling in love with Jaime, but such a wondrous gift was something he was afraid to reach for, in case he was wrong or found undeserving. He had felt the emotion himself the day before when his healing gift had overtaken him with Maxim, but he refused to take anything for granted as a certainty, even love.
“Come, let us go see Father,” Maxim said with a smile, and the prince knocked once on his father’s door. A soft bid to enter came, and Maxim opened the door for Jaime, guiding him through first before following him inside and shutting the door.
King Llyr sat up in bed, buoyed by a mountain of pillows The room was warm, the now midday sun high overhead keeping the intense rays of light near the walls. A flameless lamp, a small one about the size of a chicken egg, floated in a small glass vase on the nightstand, giving the king enough light to read by. He was bundled in a velvet sleeping gown and robes, and Jaime was charmed to see the edges were well worn and the seams were fraying, sure signs of favorite garments over the long years. “Healer Buchanan, Maxim. Come sit and keep an old man company,” King Llyr said with a smile, giving the bed by his hip a small pat.
Jaime took the chair furthest from the king, letting Maxim sit nearer to his father. Jaime set his book on his lap, pretending not to notice the heavy tremor to the king’s hand as Maxim took it in his, tenderly gripping the fragile limb.
“What have you brought along, young man?” King Llyr asked, making Jaime jolt a smidge. Having a king speak to him was still a novelty that had yet to wear off, though he did his utmost best to not show how out of sorts he was feeling. His nerves settled, and the strangeness withdrew, for now.
“A medical journal, Your Majesty.”
King Llyr’s lips twitched and a smile came forth. “A free day has presented itself to you, and your first inclination is to do more work? Maxim, my son, I believe we have found a younger version of Janis.” Maxim chuckled, though kindly, giving Jaime a wink. “My eldest son is not happy unless he is burdened by stacks of work and unhappy ministers. Until he eventually snaps and goes to the armory to bang upon hapless guardsmen. A habit my youngest shares with Janis, as well.”
Jaime cut his eyes to Maxim, who gave a casual half-shrug. “Prince Maxim is quite accomplished with a sword, sire.”
King Llyr’s widening smile was full of pride. “That he is! A swordmaster before his twenty-fifth birthday, a distinction not held in the royal family since the Great War. Youngest in the city, as well. I’m not sure about the rest of the country, it is rather large. I’m sure someone will come along and brag about outdoing a prince eventually.” To Jaime’s delight, Maxim merely rolled his eyes at his father, who in turn gave a raspy chuckle.
“Braggarts wouldn’t be likely to be a swordmaster, though? Truly?” Jaime asked, frowning.
“Talent and skill is no measure for personality, unfortunately. I wish it were otherwise, sometimes.” The king sighed, rueful. “Horrid people can be just as skilled and essential as good people.” Jaime nodded in agreement, thinking of some of his very arrogant and elitist peers back at the Academy. Some of the worst offenders were those with the healing gift, while others without the gift were kind, caring souls.
“Enough talk of horrid people,” King Llyr commanded, and motioned to a book on the nightstand not far from the lamp. “Maxim, my boy, read a tale to your ailing father while the youngling studies.”
“What tale should it be?” Maxim said without argument, reaching for the book. “A story about pirates, or maybe the young lass who befriended a gryphon? I think we’ve read all the stories in this edition.”
“Read the one about the lass who befriends the gryphon, my boy,” King Llyr bid, settling down deeper into his pillows. Jaime shot up from his seat and helped the king, Maxim scooting back out of the way. The king pat Jaime’s cheek lightly, and Jaime blushed. “Sweet young man. Maxim, I order you to keep this one. The other three can secure the succession. This young man is too selfless to let wander the world.”
Maxim made an odd sound, between a cough and a laugh, and Jaime heaved an exaggerated sigh, recognizing the teasing for what it was. The king chuckled, tired, but he was alert enough that Jaime was not too worried. Jaime snuck in a quick examination with his gift, and he stealthily eased the king’s discomfort as best he could before he sat back down. His kidneys and liver were shutting down first, and while Jaime could give the failing organs an assist, he could not stop the passage of time nor reverse old age. He had a sneaking suspicion Master Eames had been boosting the king’s reserves for some time, but now the king’s body was at the point that such assists were no longer enough.
Healers were mortal, not gods to bring back youth or eternal life, and they had limits. Even the most powerful among them.
Maxim opened the book and flipped through until he found the story he wanted. Jaime grabbed his medical journal and curled up in his chair, angled so he could see both Maxim and the king. He opened his book to his marker just as Maxim began to read.
“Long ago, in the time of the Gryphon Knights, in the southern reaches of Pyrderi, there lived a young girl named Luna. She was the youngest of many children, and her parents were farmers who attended golden fields at the base of tall mountains. The lone daughter, she rebelled against her parents’ desire to keep her close, and she ran free in the fields with her brothers. Cautionary tales of wild fearsome creatures were enough to keep her many brothers from straying too far afield, but the wild forests and tall scraggly mountains just past the borders of her family farm called to her daily. One day, Luna braved the wilds and went wandering in the forest. After many hours, Luna came across the haft of a broken spear, one she had seen carried by the Royal guards stationed in the nearby town. The thick oak shaft was split and torn, though it was still almost taller than she was, and she marveled at what could have destroyed such a fearsome weapon. Curious, she searched deeper into the forest, carrying the broken spear.”
Maxim’s reading voice was deep and smooth, with a storytelling quality to it that lulled the listener into a peaceful trance. Jaime left his medical journal forgotten in his lap as he enjoyed the brave tale of Luna the Gryphon Tamer. How she found a wounded gryphon, a young buck with the remaining half of the spear lodged in his rear leg. Jaime held his breath as Maxim read aloud how Luna befriended the wounded gryphon by bringing it food and water, and eventually, it let her remove the spear from its leg. Together, the young gryphon and the girl had many adventures over that long summer, until they were found by the local guards. Frightened for her safety, the guards were about to attack until Luna leapt on her friend’s back, and they flew away into the bright blue sky.
“I love that story,” Maxim said as he finished, speaking quietly. The king was asleep, and the hours were approaching late afternoon. Jaime hadn’t touched his book once Maxim began reading, and he exhaled, unwinding his legs from his chair.
“Is it true?” Jaime wondered, quiet as well, though a quick touch to the king’s hand told Jaime he was in a restful sleep for now.
“Actually, yes. Or at least a variation is. The Gryphon Knights, hundreds of years ago, would use mounts they had raised from eggs, as wild-caught gryphons were rarely tamable. Somehow, Luna the Brave proved to be a true friend to her gryphon, as they were both accepted into the corps together. Her approach of using kindness and positive reinforcements as training techniques was gradually adopted by the knights, and lasted until the gryphons were set free during the Great War.”
Maxim cautiously stood and helped Jaime up as well, before they went to the door. The well-oiled hinges opened silently, letting them slip from the room. Maxim did not close the door all the way, leaving it open a few inches so the king was visible. Jaime slipped away to the nearest water closet then returned so Maxim might do the same, both keeping a watchful eye on the king. Food was on a tray in the center of the room, and Jaime and Maxim snacked, neither truly hungry.
A commotion at the door made Maxim move to intercept whoever was entering, hissing for them to be quiet. Prince Janis, the Queen, and a man Jaime did not know came into the room, still arguing, though not as loudly.
“This is an inappropriate time to hold a grand ball,” the strange man said, clearly reiterating a point he must have made numerous times already, if the queen’s impatient huff were anything to go by. “The healers say the king will soon pass—we should be preparing for a state of national mourning, not a party!”
“Keep your voice down or I’ll escort you out,” Maxim growled, and Janis’ glower backed his brother’s statement. The stranger snapped his mouth shut, and only then seemed to notice Jaime was in the room. He took in Jaime’s healer robes and pointed at him. “You! Boy! Is it true the king is dying? Should we not be prepared for his passing to occur in the next few days?”