A healer novice in pale green robes brought him a fresh set of clothing, and Jaime was touched and left teary-eyed at the senior novice’s robes he was provided. They were green and lined with silver ribbons, denoting his level of education. Jaime had been in his last year of training, trusted with patients of his own under the watchful eye of his mentors back at the academy, and to not be regulated back to the beginner’s ranks was a compliment and honor he was not expecting.
Jaime dressed, washing quickly in the basin provided, happy to find a small mirror and comb at the washstand in the corner he did not see the night before. Dressed, clean, and anxious to know his fate, Jaime opened his door, peering cautiously out into the hall.
It was a simple hallway, well-lit by windows at even intervals in the ceiling. There was a small sitting area directly in front of him with a small hearth and some chairs. Several doors were along the hall, all of them shut and presumably occupied. To his left was the end of the hall, graced with a tall, stain-glassed window that depicted a healer in blood-stained robes attending to the wounded on a battlefield. He recognized the scene as a famous healer from nearly a thousand years prior who became the patron saint of the order Jaime once belonged to. Or still belonged to, he thought, rubbing a hand down the front of his robes.
He went down the hall and into a large room full of tables, alchemy stations, and to the far side, what looked to be operating stations under the tall windows where the most light fell. Across the wide space was an archway, and he could see beds, some of them occupied.
Jaime paused at the edge of the room, breathing in air scented with medicinal ointments and tonics and the smell of clean linens and herbs that hung along the walls on drying racks. He was strongly reminded of the Healer’s Academy in Corinthia, and he rubbed at his chest, as if to soothe the ache. Healers and novices spoke in low tones or worked quietly, the atmosphere one of peace.
His eyes were drawn to the wide shoulders of Prince Maxim, the royal speaking quietly to a pair of full healers in their silver and white robes, the edges trimmed in varying hues of green that denoted their ranks and specialties. One of them saw Jaime hovering and pointed towards him with a smile. Prince Maxim turned and grinned wide when he saw Jaime. Jaime smiled back, flushing. The prince said his goodbyes and strode across the room to him. Long legs, a trim waist, a broad chest, and strong shoulders clothed in black leather pants and a brilliant white shirt, topped with a long jacket in rich sky blue left Jaime at a loss for words. The prince looked every inch the royal.
Prince Maxim was at his side before he was ready, and Jaime shivered, skin tingling from head to toe when the prince gave him a wide smile and offered his hand. Jaime found his much smaller hand engulfed in the prince’s with his long fingers curling over, holding him firmly. His face burned, and he ducked his head, hair falling over his eyes.
“Good morning, Jaime.”
“Good—good morning, Your Highness,” he stammered back, and he gripped the hand holding his in an unconscious plea for support.
He was holding hands with a prince. His life had taken an unexpected twist.
“Please, call me Maxim,” the prince offered, and Jaime gasped, shaking his head frantically. The prince was smiling at him, somehow beyond patient.
“I wouldn’t dare! I couldn’t, Your Highness,” Jaime burst out, heart racing again. “It’s not allowed.”
Prince Maxim drew closer, their joined hands between them, and he gave Jaime a slow perusal, taking in his wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and no doubt able to see the galloping pulse in his neck. “There is no one to gainsay you for the privilege. I do not mind. Please, it would be an honor for you to use my name.”
“Can I—can I think about it?” He couldn’t believe he just said that, and he nearly bit the tip of his tongue off snapping his mouth shut.
Prince Maxim chuckled and turned them both, tucking Jaime’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “While you’re thinking about it, how about I give you a tour of the castle? Something besides the kitchens and servants’ halls? Would you like to see the library? Do you like to read?”
“Master Eames wanted to talk to me…”
“I’ve been ordered to return you promptly after midday by Master Eames, along with strict instructions not to overdo it.” The prince’s charming grin never fell away, and he seemingly saw nothing amiss in a healer ordering about a royal. Master Eames was a distinguished healer, surely used to getting his own way, and Jaime had no desire to run afoul of the healer’s orders either. Prince Maxim continued, “Now what about some breakfast and then on to the library?”
“I love to read. I would love to see the library.” The idea of the prince taking him to personally see anything was spinning about in his mind, making him feel dizzy, and leaving him glad for the strong hand holding onto his.
Jaime let himself be led from the infirmary, walking down a short, wide hallway that emptied into a well-lit and opulent foyer that had many halls and doors heading off in all directions. The foyer was tall, at least three stories, and the roof was circular. The floor was white stone, the polished blocks cut into pieces bigger than his whole body. Columns lined the walls, soaring high overhead, and the domed roof was broken up by painted reliefs and skylights. Hints of a sharp blue sky came through the windows above, and Jaime craned his neck, trying to take it all in at once.
People were everywhere. Accustomed to seeing only servants and guards, the clothing worn by the people bustling about was eye-opening for Jaime. Cloth and leather dyed every hue of the rainbow, fashioned into gowns, robes, and smartly-cut jackets and coats as far as he could see.
Nobles and courtiers.
There were some servants, though the ones he could pick out of the crowd passing through were dressed far finer than any servant he had ever seen. These must be the personal staff of the individual nobles and courtiers in attendance for the solstice festival and the culminating ball. Those before them seemed to have some ability to sense exactly where Prince Maxim was, as any collisions were avoided, the nobles adroitly getting out of the way, pausing to offer a short bow or curtsy, the prince gracing them with a short nod without stopping. The prince escorted Jaime in a straight line, and those in the way moved. It was a subtle thing, yet Jaime understood that, even among the gilded set, the prince was a step above.
There was a king too, obviously, though Jaime didn’t know much about him aside from the fact that Prince Maxim was his youngest child, one of four, and that the king was old. Old enough to be Prince Maxim’s grandfather, if the whispers among the servants about the king’s health suffering during the winter months were enough to judge by. Jaime merely dismissed it as rumor mill gossip.
There was a lot Jaime didn’t know. Like the name of the city that stretched between the palace and seashore, or if the castle had a name, or even the name of the country he was in. Jaime clung to the prince’s arm, realizing he had been hiding in more than the obvious ways—he’d shut himself down mentally, and walking in this colorful world made his mind wake up, his thoughts moving past merely staying alive.
“Highness?” Jaime asked, soft so those nearby could not hear.
“Yes, Jaime?” The prince peered down at him, fond expression unwavering.
“Where are we going?”
“I figured we could eat brunch, then maybe the library after? If that’s amenable to you.”
“Oh, yes.” Jaime’s stomach grumbled at just that moment, and he ducked his head when the prince chuckled.
“Food first, then books.”
They left the grand foyer, taking a hall with an arched ceiling and portraits along the walls. Banners hung from the rafters, fluttering just slightly from the warm draft blowing against them as they went further. Muffled steps sounded behind them, and Jaime took a glance over his shoulder, seeing a group of well-dressed men and women trailing them at a respectful distance, and a handful of guards beyond them. A distinguished older man in dark blue robes saw Jaime looking and gave him a stiff, short nod of his head. Jaime blushed and gave a nod back, not sure who that was or if he made an error. Maybe the man was a duke or something, and he just offended someone important.
Footmen in white livery opened the doors directly ahead, and Prince Maxim led him into a wide room full of light. An entire wall on the left was glass, with panels taller than he was letting in the sunlight. Jaime gasped and blindly let the prince guide him to a table at the edge of sunlight. The whole room was illuminated by the sun, the windows high above and the entire wall of windows bringing in more light than Jaime had seen in weeks. Months, really, since it was overcast and snowing when he arrived at the castle.
People ate at neighboring tables, though none were seated at the table the prince selected. Jaime could feel eyes on them, and he kept his down, trying not to draw attention to himself. His face burned when the prince pulled out a chair for him, and Jaime took a thready breath before carefully sitting. The prince’s presence at his back was a tangible sensation, and he felt an ache in his belly, his palms slightly sweaty. A place setting with a white linen napkin folded into the shape of a dove was waiting for him, and Jaime ran a finger down the cloth bird’s beak, charmed.
The prince sat beside him to his right, and a servant appeared almost immediately. “Is there anything you’d like?” Prince Maxim asked him, and Jaime shook his head, not even sure how to breathe let alone what to order for food. “May I order for you?”
Jaime nodded, relieved, and the prince gently took Jaime’s right hand in his left, so very careful and warm. Jaime stared at their hands where they joined on the table, in clear view for anyone to see. He heard the prince ordering for them, but his pulse was pounding in his ears and his mouth grew dry, nerves taking over. He didn’t even register that he was clenching hard on the prince’s hand until he felt the calming sweep of a large thumb rubbing the top of his knuckles.
Jaime sat in silence, his tongue weighed down by nerves. He stared at their hands, the caress of the prince’s thumb along the back of his fingers enough to send waves of pleasure up his arm. A dish of hot oats covered in cream and maple syrup appeared in front of him, a handful of red berries scattered over the top. His mouth watered, and the prince slowly let his hand go as they ate. A companionable silence fell, and as Jaime’s stomach filled with the delicious oatmeal, his nerves steeled and his mind grew clearer.
Their empty bowls were soon whisked away, and a wooden mug of warm, spicy cider was placed in his hands. Jaime took a sip, the flavors of apples and spices blooming on his tongue, and he sighed happily. The light shifted along the great windows, giving him a view past the glare of a high mountain range, capped in snow and clouds.
“Delicious, isn’t it?”
“So good.” Jaime’s reply was deeply appreciative, and the prince took a sip from his own mug.
“Come along, while our drinks are still warm,” Prince Maxim said.
Jaime stood, feeling odd with the mug in his hands as the prince walked beside him. They went to a hall opposite from where they entered the dining room, Jaime feeling the weight of curious eyes on his back as they left.
The library was unlike any place he’d ever seen. After handing off his empty mug to a servant in brown and tan livery, Jaime entered the library with Prince Maxim at his side. The ceiling opened, as if falling away, the walls rising to dizzying heights. Every breath felt as if it should echo, every footfall loud in the space, but the vast room held a quiet that was unparalleled. Not even the temples and churches Jaime had come across in his meager years held such an air of reverence and quiet awe.
Prince Maxim tugged on his hand, towing him behind as they wound their way through the tables and sitting areas. There were less windows here than the rest of the castle, but tall iron lamps and wall sconces glowed from corners and towered over chairs and tables. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling on long, thick chains, though they remained unlit. There was a fireplace on the far side of the room, a vast monstrosity that held a comparatively small flame for its great depths, the walls on either side naught but chiseled and carved stone, the books safely at a distance so as not to be dried out by the heat.
“Fiction or nonfiction?” Prince Maxim called over his shoulder as they walked beneath a tall lamp. Jaime peered up and saw to his amazement that it was not fuel-fed natural fire that burned within. A small yellow ball of light glimmered and danced in the glass lamp, illuminating the space around it with clear, gentle light. “Jaime?”
“Oh!” Jaime tore himself away from the mysterious lights, and blurted out, “Medical journals?”
Prince Maxim’s face was a study of surprise and delight, then confusion. The prince bit his lip, eyes distant until his face cleared with triumph. “This way.”
He still wasn’t accustomed to the prince holding his hand, though the longer their hands stayed joined, the more warmth stole into his chest, setting his nerves alight.
The prince guided him to a spiral staircase along the wall, and they went up and up until they could step off into a warm, bright room lined with stacks of its own. A woman in dark brown livery with red trim appeared seemingly from nowhere, and Jaime jumped. She stared at him as if he were an unknown and she had yet to determine if he were worthy of standing in her territory. Nearly expressionless, she turned her regard to the prince.
“Your Highness,” the woman said with a somber bow, “How can I be of assistance?”
“This is Jaime Buchanan, a final year healer student. I’d like for him to have access to the medical library indefinitely, please.”
The woman eyed Jaime, her professional expression not wavering once. Jaime fidgeted, and Prince Maxim gave his hand a single squeeze. She spoke, and it took everything he had not to bolt. “The journals, textbooks, and assorted other documents and books are to be checked out with either myself or the night librarian. Topics are arranged by ailments, as in injuries, fevers, infections, and so forth. There are some restricted tomes that can only be removed with written permission from your mentor or the Master Healer. Many of the learner’s guides are also available in the healers’ wing where you’re lodged; so please look there for a copy before checking a book out from the medical library. They are to be returned in a timely manner, free of stain or damage. Am I understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jaime said with a nod, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. He felt like he should be waking up at any moment, sleeping on his tiny pallet in the kitchen.
“I am Librarian Mistral,” she offered, expression still blank but her voice not as stern. “I am here every day until supper, then Librarian Farane takes over for the night shift. Our desk is there,” she said, pointing with a nod towards a desk not far from the doorway. “Go there for questions or to check out a book.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jaime managed to squeak out, though she seemed to expect students to be tongue-tied around her. She walked away into the stacks as silently as she appeared.
“Wow,” Jaime breathed out, feeling like he’d just barely escaped punishment from a teacher.
“Librarian Mistral has that effect on everyone,” Prince Maxim offered with a wry grin. “Go on, look around.”
“I can carry my books,” Jaime protested again, the prince ignoring him as he had the first time he protested. “You don’t need to.”
“Master Eames was very clear that I not overtax you today,” Prince Maxim retorted, and Jaime sighed. “As it is, I may be in the weeds already, since we missed lunch and it’s nearly supper.”
Prince Maxim juggled the half dozen tomes Jaime had found in the medical library that he desired to read, the thick volumes bound in leather and carrying the scent of ink and wisdom. A fanciful thought, but one Jaime was determined to believe true. They spent hours in the library, the prince following Jaime through the stacks until a healer’s journal detailing a historic battle distracted him. Jaime took his time, his intellectual curiosity rousing after lying dormant so long beneath chains and pain. When he would have left with nothing, Prince Maxim urged him to check out the books that interested him, and the intimidating Librarian Mistral even offered her sanguine opinion that no knowledge was wasted unless it remained a mystery. Jaime took that as the rebuke she surely meant.
They made good time back to the healers’ wing of the castle, and Prince Maxim went so far as to place the books on the desk in Jaime’s room. Jaime stood by the door and fidgeted, wondering if he’d see the prince again in the next few days.
A warm finger came up gently under his chin, lifting his gaze to meet the dark honey brown of the prince’s eyes. Jaime blushed but didn’t look away. “I need to join my brother Elric for dinner this evening, and you need to attend to Master Eames. I don’t know what your schedule will be like the next few days, but may I come calling again when I can?”
Jaime found himself nodding, dazed. The prince wanted to see him again? His mind had trouble fathoming the news, but his body warmed straight through, understanding only that it would be near the prince again. A thumb gently swiped over his chin, and Jaime shivered, mouth dry. He instinctively tried to wet his lips, and his tongue flicked against the prince’s thumb. He blushed even more, face aflame, the salty taste of the prince’s skin a delight.
“Highness…” Jaime gasped out quietly, nearly inaudible.
“Maxim,” the prince reminded him with a whisper, leaning down, so very carefully, and Jaime’s eyes fluttered shut. Warm breath spiced with the scent of cider made his breathing hitch, and Jaime waited, breathless.
The lightest of touches graced his lips. A large hand cradled his jaw, and Jaime leaned into the kiss. A flash of heat, spice, and the slightest touch of tongues took away his ability to think. Jaime sighed happily as the prince ended the kiss, eyes blinking open as if from a long slumber.
Jaime grinned, the kiss having rendered him to naught but frazzled nerves and foolish desires. Prince Maxim stepped away, as if each step would cleave him in two. He gave Jaime a deep bow before walking from the room with a murmured goodbye.
It took Jaime far too long to recall that the prince seemed to be just as flustered as he, the prince’s golden complexion flushed and eyes bright with heat. Jaime managed to get to the bed before his knees gave out, fingers rising to run over his tingling lips.