“Fuck.” Jaime measured out the medicine to dump into the cup.
“Don’t tell,” whispered Aleric.
Lord Monet would put him in a noose if he found out his son hadn’t received his medicine. Jaime took the cup and the short bottle into the privy room. Olivier had mixed it right in front of him, but that didn’t mean much. A bottle didn’t have to contain what the label said, and several hadn’t been marked. Only Olivier truly knew what all he had, and who’d suspect him? Besides Aleric.
Killing a man with what appeared to be a terrible fever their weakened body couldn’t handle was a good idea.
Jaime poured the contents down the privy. What if this was insane, and Aleric croaked in a few hours because the fever weakened him too much? A person needs more than a day to replenish blood, and he hadn’t been eating or drinking as much as one should. If he died, it might be Jaime’s fault.
Unless he got medicine Aleric could trust.
When he returned, Aleric watched him with glassy eyes. His expression was not that of a trusting man.
“Now what?” Jaime set the bottle and the medicine cup on the bedside table.
Aleric's deep breath was almost painful to listen to since it was labored. “Water. Wash the cup out in the privy. The pitcher too. Refill it. If he put anything in it or drugged the water…I was drugged last month.”
“How? Is there anyone else I need to be worried about right now?”
“No. Later…”
Jaime took the cup and pitcher into the privy room. Aleric had drunk from it earlier, but if he didn’t trust it…Jaime crouched by the sunken tub to wash the cup and pitcher. Two pipes came from the wall, and the left was cold, so he used that to refill it.
He wanted to know what all was going on, but if he pushed Aleric to talk…it wasn't a good idea when he was so weak and ill.
He poured a cup for Aleric when he returned. “You have to drink, okay?”
Aleric managed to get himself up on one elbow, although Jaime had to hold the cup since he was shaking.
“Do you want me to go out and get you medicine?” Jaime asked in a low voice.
“No.” Aleric sank back down after he finished the cup.
Jaime crouched. “You’re already sick. If he poisoned you-your eyes are glassy, and your face is red. You need something. If I get it from the city, it won’t be poisoned. I wouldn’t know what antidote to get you, but I could at least get a tincture for the fever. Without another dose, it might be a poison that can wear off, and Olivier’s trying to keep you topped off with it until your body gives out.”
He didn’t trust Jaime either despite him tossing the medicine. Aleric, on his back, stared at the ceiling with such a blank face, Jaime almost thought he’d slipped down a little more into the fever.
Aleric’s lips barely moved as he spoke. “I want the bottle sealed. There’s money in the bedside drawer. Take it all. For your month’s wages…Use it.”
“Okay. I’ll have them seal it. I won’t be long. Drink more water before I go.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know, but you need fluid. You’ve barely had anything. Please.”
He helped Aleric to drink and left him under the blankets. In the top drawer of his bedside table, he found a coin purse and slipped it into the waist of his sleep pants. The other two didn’t need to know he’d taken money or start asking questions. In the sitting room, Olivier was seated on the couch with Lord Monet and looking quite miffed.
It was impossible to tell if he was miffed because his patient had preferred someone else or if he was afraid he might fail in killing Aleric.
“What took you so long?”
Jaime stood in front of the cold fireplace. “I sat with him for a bit.”
“You gave him everything like I said?”
“Yes. Aleric took it fine, and I gave him water too. He doesn’t want you doing it again. I can see why.”
Lord Monet narrowed his eyes, and Olivier furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
