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?”
