The Solstice Prince (Realms of Love Book 1)

by SJ Himes

  “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.

  Jaime wandered out into the greater room, idly perusing the scattered items left out.

  There were tables set up with notes, and Jaime recognized what appeared to be patient’s records and diagrams. Many healers did not have the gift that let them heal with their hands, and sometimes, surgeons were needed. Jaime could heal lacerations, fevers, and infections, but what he couldn’t do was remove a foreign object from the body, like an arrow or the broken tip of a knife, and such things needed to be cut out. His last year was meant to be an apprenticeship to a full healer until he was considered fully trained.

  The academy in Corinthia had its own ward where people came for treatments and emergency care. From broken limbs to impalement to exotic fevers, Jaime had seen a myriad of patients. His curiosity got the best of him, and he read the file in front of him, nudging aside papers and drawn diagrams as he grew more interested in the case.

  “The patient has chronic headaches. How would you treat him?”

  Jaime jumped and flushed guiltily at having been caught reading private information. Master Eames gave him a stern expression, but the healer motioned to the papers and asked again, “How would you treat him?”

  “Oh! Um,” Jaime bit his lip and looked back down at the papers, trying to get his heart rate to settle, forcing himself to see the words written before him lest his nerves render him blind. “Middle aged man, somewhat overweight, drinks heavily, and smokes cigars several times a day. I would suggest daily exercise, perhaps a walk or two, more water and less alcohol, and a change in diet to lessen fatty foods. Cut back on the cigars. If all the changes are made and the headaches remain, then perhaps feverfew and white willow bark tea every morning and evening. If there’s still no improvement, something could be wrong on a physiological level, and a healer with the gift may try to provide relief.”

  Master Eames walked to the table and pulled out a chair, leaning back before settling a heavy stare upon Jaime. “Why not have one of the gifted provide relief immediately?”

  “Many reasons, Master. The gift is so rare that reliance upon it for relief of everyday maladies is unwise. If the condition is the result of bad habits that can be rectified, then addressing those habits is the best option to mitigate the headaches. Using renewable medicines provides a recourse and means for patients to maintain control over their health instead of depending on healers to keep them functional. We are here to help those who need it in truth, and not to hold the hands of the chronic pretenders. Using the gift should be done selflessly, but wisely. It is a tool, not a cure-all meant to replace common sense and good habits.”

  “I sense the words of your teachers in that recital, but decent enough an answer,” Master Eames judged, though Jaime could not argue with the master. Part of Jaime wondered why those with the gift weren’t healing every patient they came across. “Tell me, youngling, can the gift restore a lost limb?”

  “No, Master Eames.”

  “Can it grant vision to those born blind?”

  “Depends on why they are blind to begin with, but usually not.”

  “Can the gift cure addiction or those afflicted by insanity?”

  “It can ease the symptoms if they manifest physically, but again, usually not.”

  “Can it resurrect the dead?”

  “No, Master Eames.”

  “So, being dependent on an ability that has such limitations is unwise, yes?”

  “Yes, Master Eames.” Jaime dropped his head, feeling as if he were reprimanded, though he knew not for what. He risked a glance to Master Eames beneath his lashes, and the smile he glimpsed made him relax.

  “You’ve a sound head on your shoulders, my dear boy. Usually gifted students have this holier-than-thou attitude that earns them few friends and plenty of enemies, but I’m glad to see that such a malady has skipped you entirely.”

  Jaime said nothing, and Master Eames finally gave him a nod of approval. “Your schooling is to resume tomorrow. Your records arrived a few hours ago, while you were raiding the library with the prince. Your scholastic achievements are impressive, and you’ll be attending Healer Greaves for the next month while he assesses your skill with your gift. Healer Greaves is also one of the gifted, and a skilled herbalist.”

  “Yes, Master Eames. Thank you.”

  The master gazed at him for a moment longer, then stood, arranging his robes. “A concern you had yesterday about tuition has been settled—your late father paid your final year of schooling before his death. As you are not in the Hellebore Empire or Eistrea anymore, we do things differently here. The tuition has been returned and will be available for your personal use once the currencies are exchanged.” Jaime was surprised by that, his heart aching. His father paid his tuition, likely the last thing he did before falling ill. Jaime missed his father with a deep, painful ache, but blinked back tears to follow Master Eames’ words. “Those who wish to become healers or are among the gifted are taught without cost here. We are a guild order here in Taliesin City, and the gifted and those accepted as novices do not pay for an education. The Healer’s Guild is maintained by taxes and donations. Since we are
not an academy, your free time is your own, though I feel I must stress you spend an appropriate amount of time on your studies. Romance can happen when your education allows.” Master Eames paused, and his serious mien cracked, showing a hint of subtle humor. “All right?”

  Jaime blushed fiercely, but he nodded. He wasn’t so certain there was a romance, but the thought of spending more time with Prince Maxim made his heart race. Maybe friendship if he were to be so lucky, though that kiss earlier spoke of something more. The rumors of Jaime’s magic kept the superstitious slavers from defiling his body in a sexual manner, so Jaime knew nothing more about sex and attraction than what he’d seen amongst his peers at the academy and the textbooks in his classes. Mutual affection between men was apparently normal here, since Jaime hadn’t even seen a flicker of condemnation or disgust from anyone in the castle when Maxim escorted him about, or when servants engaged in frequent flirtations. Even Cook tried to nudge Jaime in the captain’s direction. Despite the normalcy here, and Jamie’s obvious attraction to men, his actual experience was next to nothing. He didn’t know what romance was or what sexual attraction between lovers might feel like. He’d loved his father, and felt affection for some of his teachers, but love felt for someone wholly new and unencumbered by blood or mentorship was foreign to his experience.

  Jaime grew up in Eistrea, and while same sex relationships were accepted, it was still frowned upon, as such unions could not produce children. The religion of Eistrea was heavily interwoven with the farming culture, and children were needed to both inherit and run farms. The more hands available, the more crops could be grown and harvested. Jaime was born and raised in Marlec Pointe, a port city on the southern shores of Eistrea, and while the prejudices against same-sex love weren’t as prevalent since the city thrived on trade and the nearby fort, the prejudice against magic not controlled by the crown was strong.