by SJ Himes
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 statem
ent. 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?”
Jaime crossed his arms and let his anger show. He did not know who this man was and did not appreciate his tone or demanding ways. The way he spoke of the king and his ailing health angered Jaime, something he hadn’t felt for a long time, and his anger must have showed, since Maxim moved to his side in a show of support. “Forgive me, sir, I do not know who you are, nor do I care. Keep your voice down, or you will disturb my patient. And you won’t want to do that, at all.”
“This is the First Minister, His Grace Arron Winging, the Duke of Arianrhal, who heads the Council in the king or crown prince’s absence,” Queen Amal introduced, though that meant nothing to Jaime at all. The titles would have been terrifying if Jaime wasn’t so mad.
“And, as a healer, he should know the answer to my question!” The duke stated, petulant as a child refusing to go down for a nap. Jaime lifted his chin and held his tongue. He heard a rustle of bed linens and turned his back on the rude duke, heading for the king’s room.
He went through the partially open door and put a hand on the king’s shoulder, calming him as he struggled to sit up. “Easy, sire. Go slow. Nothing’s amiss.”
“I heard old Arron blustering. Too dreadful an occurrence to be a nightmare,” King Llyr grumbled, accepting Jaime’s help to sit upright. “That old blowhard is enough to rouse the dead.”
Jaime snorted out a laugh and settled the king on his pillows, taking his thin wrist and minding his pulse. Too fast for his liking, so he calmed the king’s heart with his gift, soothing, relieving some aches in old bones while he worked. The king soon relaxed, though he was unlikely to get back to sleep with the racket coming from the outer chamber. Prince Janis was arguing with the duke, Maxim’s voice nearly as angry. “Bring them in here, boy. I’m still king yet.”
Jaime opened his mouth to protest, but shut it at the commanding expression from the king. He went to the door and opened it wider. Inwardly, he quavered at the expectant stares from four exalted personages, but he pulled on his training and set his expression to stern disapproval. “His Majesty asks that you attend to him.” Jaime nailed the duke with a glare and was pleased to see his disapproval cut through the man’s arrogance. “You will mind yourself, Your Grace, or I will ask the princes to remove you immediately.”
“A healer with a spine, how wonderful,” Queen Amal murmured, pulling away from the three men and heading for her husband’s room. She swept past Jaime, who gave her a short bow. He didn’t wait for the others to follow, though Maxim was right behind his mother, Prince Janis and the duke trailing.
The queen sat on the chair nearest the king, and Prince Janis went to stand next to his stepmother. Jaime wormed his way back to the king’s side, and Prince Janis moved over for him without a qualm.
“Now, then.” King Llyr managed to encompass everyone with his displeasure, and Duke Arianrhal squirmed the tiniest amount. The king skewered the duke with a sharp glance and demanded, “Care to explain why you’re burying me before I’m even dead, Arron?”
The duke gulped audibly. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He gave a sketchy bow, eyeing the way Maxim hovered at his back, as if ready to grab him and drag him from the room at any moment. Which Jaime suspected he was, from the anger radiating off the youngest prince. “I was informed of your…of your….”
“You can say it, you fool. It’s not as if I’m unaware I’m dying.” The king snapped, and everyone flinched, save Jaime. “What has my impending death have to do with the argument the lot of you were having?”
“His Grace objects to continuing the Solstice Festivities, namely the Grand Ball, in light of your declining health, Father,” Prince Janis answered, earning him a glare from the duke. “I informed him, along with the rest of the Council, that you wished for the festivities to continue as normal.”
“This isn’t normal! Parties and fairs while the king lay dying? It’s obscene!” The duke exclaimed. Maxim drifted closer, ready to grab the duke, so he lowered his voice. “It isn’t proper!”
“I’m not dead yet, you fool. My affairs are entirely in order, and arrangements are in place. All that remains is for me to actually die—which, I will have you know on the most absolute of authority, is utterly normal. Kings die, each one of them, eventually. It just hasn’t happened in Pyrderi for seventy years.” King Llyr grumbled and pointed at the duke. “There are some things I cannot control. Death is one of them, but I can control the way I depart this world. I’ll not have the celebrations marred by grief and worry, the people waiting on tenterhooks for me to pass. There is no point in mourning while I still live. I want to see my people happy one last time. The festival and the Grand Ball will continue as planned.”
The king’s command was quite clear, and Jaime took a small measure of satisfaction from the way the duke swallowed back his objections. A long moment passed before the duke gave a short bow, and choked out, “Of course, Your Majesty. Forgive me.”
“I’ll forgive you only because I’m dying, and I don’t feel like dealing with you again. Excuse yourself and get yourself out of my bedroom,” King Llyr sniped, and the duke gasped out apologies and backed out of the room, still bowed over. Maxim sniffed with disdain and shut the door once the duke was gone.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Queen Amal said, patting the king’s hand. He smiled back at his wife, obviously unconcerned about the whole ordeal.
“Nothing to be sorry for, My Queen,” the king murmured, and even at his advanced age, Jaime caught a hint of the charming rogue the man must have been in his youth. The king spoke louder, addressing his sons. “The Grand Ball is two days away, is it not? It shall proceed uninterrupted. Janis, of course, will be attending in my stead, escorting your stepmother. Not your first time doing so these last few years, I’m afraid; so it shouldn’t cause any undue alarm. Maxim.”
“Yes, Father?” Maxim answered, coming closer to the bed.
“Since you’re here this year and not chasing brigands in the southern lands, I expect you to attend as well,” the king told his son, whose eyes flitted to Jaime immediately, then back to his father. “You’ll settle the matter of who you’re escorting before bedtime. Understood?”
“Yes, Father,” Maxim replied, smiling, and his warm honey eyes fell to Jaime again, a longer, fonder expression within them. “I will do so immediately.”
“Good.” A knock sounded, and Maxim opened the door, admitting Master Eames. “Ah, Eames. My nightly bedsitter. Come in and kick these younglings out, will you?”
“Still in a good mood, I see,” Master Eames replied with a smile, chuckling. “As His Majesty commands, out with all of you. Except you, Your Majesty,” Master Eames said with a bow to Queen Amal, who gave him a gracious nod.
The princes said goodnight to their father, and Jaime relinquished his place near the king to the chief healer. “Any issues?”
“Nothing unexpected, sir. Raised heartbeat, but he calmed quickly. He slept for a couple of hours before…” Jaime trailed off, thinking of the very rude duke.
“Yes, I passed the duke on my way here. Thankfully, I too am old, and no longer care for appeasing stuck up nobles. Enjoy the rest of your free day while you can, Jaime. Greaves will be back from the city sometime tonight. Back to duties in the morning.”
“Yes, sir. Goodnight,” Jaime bowed before leaving the bedroom, exhaling roughly as he shut the door.
Maxim was waiting for him, and Jaime gladly accepted the outstretched hand from his prince.
Seeing the prince spread out on his bed was enough to shock his heart into a mad gallop, even after the past hour of the amazing experience. The remains of their supper were spread out between them, and Jaime giggled into his cup of mulled wine when Maxim finished telling him a rather absurd tale about Elric, a sea captain,
and a goat.
“They did not!” Jaime gasped out, laughing.
“They most assuredly did! Elric and Captain Alaine walked all the way back to the main gates naked, the goat who ate their trews trotting ahead like it knew the way.” Maxim replied, sending Jaime into another peal of laughter. “Okay, perhaps not naked, but the very thin undergarments they were wearing were wet, and left nothing to the imagination.”
Jaime had to set his mug down and fell to the bed on his side, giggling even more. Maxim smiled down at him, his hair falling over his eyes, and Jaime reached up, pushing the hair back from Maxim’s handsome face. Maxim caught his hand and pressed a kiss to Jaime’s fingers. Maxim was a vision of masculine appeal, boots kicked off, bare feet lean and strong, his elaborate jacket tossed across Jaime’s desk, ties to his shirt undone around his neck, baring tanned skin that Jaime’s eyes hungrily devoured.
“Jaime?” Maxim asked, and Jaime tore his eyes away from staring in somewhat inebriated wonder at the prince in his bed to focus on his words.
“Hhmm?”
“Go with me to the Grand Ball.”
Jaime blinked. Then blinked again, wondering if he’d had too much wine after all. “The ball? The one the duke wanted to cancel?”
“Yes, that ball,” Maxim said, leaning down and kissing the tip of Jaime’s nose. “Would you do me the great honor of accepting?”
Jaime fumbled, flopping on his stomach and lifting his head up. “The ball, the one they call the Grand Ball. The important one the duke was arguing over.”
“Yes, that one. And how much wine did you drink?” Maxim laughed, looking down at Jaime’s cup.
“I don’t drink, so I think I may be a bit silly right now. The ball?” Jaime asked again, blinking his brain back into order.
“I’ll know that for the future. Watch Jaime’s alcohol.” Maxim scooted the tray down to the end of the bed and gathered Jaime in his arms, rolling to his back so Jaime sprawled over his chest. “So, will you go with me?”
