Since Jaime had wondered if Aleric’s refusal had a rather childish reason, he decided to use it. “Well…I mean…don’t take it the wrong way, but he’s known you for years, right?”
“Yes.”
“There you go.” Jaime paused like it should be obvious.
“What on Ymir’s dirt are you talking about?” asked Lord Monet.
Jaime sighed. “When I was a kid, I broke my wrist once.” That was the truth. He’d fallen out of a tree in the back garden. “We had a wise woman with healing magic, and she fixed me up. She had to adjust my wrist a little so the bone and joint would be lined up correctly. It hurt. When I got sick once, she gave me medicine that tasted so bad, I nearly threw up. I kinda didn’t like her because I associated her with pain and stuff that made me feel sick. I know she was a good person, but it’s…just the thought process.”
Neither looked entirely convinced.
“I’m sure Aleric has been sick before. Or injured, although not like yesterday. With you hovering and giving him stuff while he’s feverish, he’s probably not feeling very kind to you. You even said to not take things he says or does personally.”
Olivier rubbed his chin. “I suppose…but he’s not a child. He shouldn’t fear me.”
“He’s quite sick, and even a lot of adults associate physicians with feeling sick and find them off-putting,” said Jaime. “He went through something absolutely terrifying yesterday. I don’t think he’s concerned with behaving like an adult in your eyes when he doesn’t even have the energy to get up. I’m pretty new, and he doesn’t associate me with good or bad simply because he doesn’t know me that well, so…plus, he’s weak, and maybe he doesn’t want people seeing him like that. People who’ve known him. I’m a commoner. My opinion hardly matters.”
Lord Monet scratched his head. “It does make sense.”
“It sounds silly,” muttered Olivier. “He’s not five.”
“He’s not exactly himself at all,” said Lord Monet. “Jaime's right. Some people can appreciate the work a physician does and still dislike being treated and the process involved. He’s alsoprobably quite pissed too that we held him down yesterday to give him his doses.”
“That was for his own good,” complained Olivier. “It’s not like we did it because we wanted to.”
Lord Monet waved a hand. “Listen, at this point, I don’t care what Aleric’s reasoning is. If he wants Jaime to give him the medicine, and that calms him down, let him.”
“I’m the physician! I didn’t study for years to let a commoner take over my job.”
“Let him,” Lord Monet said with a faint edge. “You know what to give him. Jaime knows what a spoonful is and how to help a man drink from a bottle. He doesn’t need to study for it, and it’s not like we’re replacing you. I’d rather my son take his medicine with less fuss and get better. If this is the way, then so be it. When does Aleric need more?”
“Noon,” mumbled Olivier.
“Er, I was going to ask if I can take a ride through Côte,” asked Jaime.
“Why?” asked Lord Monet.
“Just to get out and clear my head. I'll be back before noon.”
“This has been quite stressful on everyone,” Olivier muttered to the Earl. “Maybe it’s best. He just got here, and all of this happened.”
“If you’re back before noon, that’s fine,” said Lord Monet. “You’ll take a guard with you.”
Maybe he wasn’t afraid of Jaime being responsible for anything. After all, he’d helped, and he’d also woken Lord Monet when he realized Aleric’s condition was worse. If he was a part of anything to kill him, why not remain quiet and hope the son slipped away in his sleep?
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get dressed and eat,” said Olivier. “Sit with Aleric, and if anything changes, come get me.”
“I will.”
***
The guard had likely heard the news, and he must have been the type who talks too much when he’s nervous since he damn near yapped off Jaime’s ears as they rode through the city.
He only stopped when Jaime paused his borrowed mount in front of an apothecary. “What are you doing?”
“I want to get something.”
The guard pointed back at the Castle. “Uh, they’ve got a physician. He’ll give you whatever for free.”
