Chapter 27
Amaris
Amaris poked and prodded at the flesh of Theodoric’s back.
He’d passed out from another dose of cudweed.
She’d read up on the herb, and from all she’d gathered, one couldn’t overdose on the stuff, even if it was injected with a needle.
Besides the poisonous nuts and the flesh-eating herb, the medical aspects of Magoria hadn’t ceased to astonish her.
If she didn’t have a life waiting for her back home, she’d contemplate staying and setting up her own mystique business, far away from the duke, though.
It’d been six days since Theodoric’s whipping, but his wounds had already begun to scab over.
She could barely believe it. Each morning as she checked, the progress seemed to speed up.
“How is our patient today?” Esaias grinned, setting a plate of eggs and mystery meat on the worktable for Amaris and a bowl of broth for Theodoric.
Esaias had taken over for him in his state, but unlike Theodoric, he didn’t leave for hours at a time to train.
Esaias had at least toned down the provocative comments and brought her food every few hours.
She’d begun to notice the increasing presence of soldiers throughout the manor.
Esaias had taken to posting downstairs at night while she slept on the floor.
The first few nights Amaris had been worried for Theodoric, but now Esaias felt it was safer for her to sleep in the tower.
“He was in a lot of pain and asked for some cudweed as soon as he woke up.”
“That isn’t like him,” Esaias said, taking a spot in a velvety, turquoise chair. He’d brought them up a few days ago, after complaining that the upholstered ones were frail and absolutely uncomfortable.
“Try getting nearly fifty lashes and see how you feel,” Amaris said, placing the last dressing over Theodoric’s wound. She’d started using yuxiway leaves on the lacerations to prevent an infection from taking over. With how weak he was, she doubted he could handle one.
“The Conjugation is coming up. I know he’ll want to be at full strength for it,” Esaias said.
“Why’s that?”
“I would say to drink and be merry, but knowing Theo, he’ll want to be on alert.” He rested his narrow face in his palm, the indents below his cheekbones shadowing against the fire. There was a hint of resemblance there, not much, but he had the tight jawline like Theodoric.
“So it’ll be like a big hoopla?”
“I’ve never heard of a Conjugation referred to as a hoopla, but if you mean an elaborate party with people from all over Godwin, then you’re correct.” Esaias rubbed at his temples, his lips smacking together.
“I’m assuming I’ll be up here,” Amaris muttered, wadding up the old bandages.
He stood and headed toward the wall of shelves. “You don’t have to be.” He reached for the highest shelf, pulling out a jar of amber liquid.
“Are you the one who’s been messing with my herbs?”
He turned over his shoulder, raising a brow and giving her a sinful smirk. “I’ll mess with your herbs any day. All you have to do is ask.”
Amaris groaned, crossing her arms. “What is that?”
“My own beautiful concoction,” he said, reaching back up and pulling out a silver tin.
She furrowed her brows, jumping onto the counter beside him. He gave her a side-eye but continued with whatever he was doing.
“What’s in it?” Amaris asked.
He popped open the tin to reveal a needle and syringe.
“Oh, hell no! You’re not doing drugs on my watch.”
“Drugs?” He inclined a brow, drawing up the dark liquid.
“Whatever you call it, you’re not injecting that into your system to get high.” She leaned over, reaching for the syringe, but he held it in the air.
He pushed against her forehead with his free hand. After reading about cudweed, she’d scoured the tower for needles, but the one in Esaias’s hands was way more extravagant.
“I’m not about to be taking uppaway, if that’s what you mean by high. Besides, you smoke that, not inject it.”
He lifted his shirt and pinched whatever bit of fat he had and injected the liquid into his abdomen, wincing as the needle broke his skin.
“What’s in it?” His eyes pierced her soul, but she narrowed her gaze. “I’m the mystique. It’s my duty to know what herbs people are taking.”
He groaned. “I have difficulties regulating the sugar in my blood.”
“You’re a diabetic?”
“A what?”
“How are you not dead?” Without modern medicine or insulin, people usually didn’t live past twenty in the olden days, and whatever he’d injected into his abdomen sure wasn’t insulin.
“I don’t know what you refer to it as, but it’s usually referred to as mamat.”
Amaris flattened her gaze. “Ma-what?”
“Mamat. It’s Gorrin for sugar.” He tucked in his shirt and grabbed another jar of a clear liquid, using a cloth to clean the syringe and needle.
“Regardless,” she began, “how are you not dead?”
He tapped the jar with the amber liquid. “My parents are filthy rich and pay their mystique well. When I was six, I developed the disease, so he set about making a cure. He came up with this.”
“I haven’t read anything about it in the mystique’s journal.”
“And you won’t. Cornelius was a short fellow, so I hid it on the top shelf. Oakheart’s mystique came up with the recipe. I make it myself.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when I was treating you for scrying fever? That’s kind of an important thing to tell your provider.”
“Speaking of scrying fever, why is it that I healed so quickly?”
“What do you mean?”
“It took weeks for Gris to heal overseas.” He raised an inquisitive eye.
Cornelius never wrote the names of his patients down, but she must have been the single survivor.
“I don’t know.” Amaris shrugged. “I followed the instructions from her care.” At least, she thought she had. She followed the recipe he’d written down and the rest of the treatment plan. Her fever and rash had lasted for two weeks according to the journal, while Esaias had healed in about a week.
“Her survival was a miracle in itself. The tonic is likely useless. It didn’t work for anyone else.”
“But it worked for you,” Amaris added, contemplating the curiosity. Maybe the herbs in Luana were stronger than overseas. “With your mamat, you should’ve had it worse, but maybe it helped. How did you manage? You were barely conscious at times.”
“Onika,” he muttered. “She assists me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve done it.”
No matter how many different diseases separated Magoria from Earth, their bodies’ anatomy all seemed the same. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but it made her wonder what other diseases or ailments she could stumble upon.
“Not everyone knows. It can be inconvenient at times, but it’s easier if only the people that need to know are aware of it,” he said.
“Wait, this medicine could change the lives of so many people. Why haven’t you shared it?”
He replaced the tin and jar, obscuring them from view. “To be born with mamat is a death sentence, and it requires rare herbs to make it. I’m not to share the recipe, because if I did, the herbs would run out. There are only a few patches left in Godwin that even grow the main ingredient.”
“You’ll sentence other people to die so you have more time?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“I’m sworn to secrecy!” he shouted, extending his palm, revealing a white scar lining his skin.
“Several others in my family have been diagnosed over the last few years. My father has sworn us all to secrecy of the formula so we may all live, or would you prefer I sentence my young nephew to death?”
She dropped her shoulders. Maybe their realm wasn’t much different from hers. “No, but it’s still awful you aren’t allowed to share it. It really screams privilege.”
“I didn’t ask to be born into my family or with mamat, but I’ve taken the hand I’ve been dealt.” He sat in a chair beside Theodoric. “Has he told you why I’m here and not in Mount Juniper?”
“No, I don’t know where you’re from. Contrary to popular opinion, not everyone enjoys talking and spilling secrets like you do.”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “My father is the Duke of Oakheart. I was born in Mount Juniper but traveled here every Sunreign.”
“So, you decided to stay?”
He gave her a slow blink, and she swore if he wasn’t so goddamn annoying, she’d find it attractive.
“One does not simply decide anything of such magnitude. I renounced my heritage when I was eighteen and became an official soldier of Luana.”
“Let me guess.” Amaris grinned, taking the seat beside him. She rested her elbows on the armrest. “Mommy and Daddy didn’t take it too well?”
“Hardly,” he said, brushing off her joke.
“My brother, Ricard, will take my father’s place.
For an heir to assume the title, the one who holds it either dies or resigns.
Theo’s father is growing older and has no intention of holding his title until he dies.
However, my father will likely sit on his throne until he becomes a pile of bones. ”
“Were you close in line or something and it pissed you off?”
“No, I would’ve never seen a position like that. Sabina, my older sister, will be the next chief and then train Ricard’s second born, Kazamir to take her place when he’s ready. She has a daughter of her own and doesn’t want to hold the title forever.”
“But she didn’t want to pass it along to you?”
He turned his gaze toward the window. “I didn’t want it, therefore resignation of heritage.”
“But—”
He hovered a finger over her lips. “That’s enough about me, unless you would like to divulge your deepest, darkest secrets.” She pursed her lips, and he smiled. “Good girl.”
“Really?” she scoffed.
He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Give it time, Amaris. They all fall for my charm in the end.”
“Fat chance,” she snapped. “There’s no way in the realm I’d ever be caught dead with you, and I’m engaged!”
A knot formed in her stomach. Her chance at proving herself had dwindled with her first escape attempt.
She didn’t know when she’d be able to try again or if Theodoric would even help her, but a part of her didn’t feel pressed anymore to run down her street and cross over the threshold into her house.
Did that make her a terrible person, wishing for more time away?
“Not even if I could get you into the grandest party of the year?”
That pulled Amaris back from her thoughts. “What do you mean?” She glared at his taunting gaze, the way he raised his brows and bit his lip.
“Go with me to the Conjugation?”
Amaris laughed. “Yeah, right.” She gestured around her. “Prisoner, remember?”
“What if I told you no one would even know it’s you?” His sultry voice was so annoying.
“How?”
“The theme for the Conjugation is a masked ball.”
“Of course, it is.” She rubbed her face, releasing an obnoxious groan.
It hadn’t been long ago when she was sure she wouldn’t be in attendance. However, with Theodoric’s healing, she’d still be lingering. Again, something in her chest lifted at the thought of going to the party, as if a feather of relief had been plucked from her.
“So, you’ll go as my date?” Esaias asked.
“As your friend,” she corrected.
“Splendid! I’ll send your measurements for a dress.”
Her jaw dropped. As he stood and circled her, she burrowed within the cushion. “The fuck you’re picking out my dress. You’d pick some skimpy cloth!”
“If I had a choice, you wouldn’t be wearing anything besides a pair of heels, but we must all make sacrifices.”
She was going to regret it. He was going to put her in a tight-fitting, boob-busting, and ass-hanging-out dress, and everyone would know it was her.
“You can wipe the disdain from your face. The key is to blend in. You’re not the first woman I’ve dressed. It’ll be modest.”
She scoffed, “And I thought you only knew how to take a woman’s clothes off.”
“Oh no, I will have no need to undress you. You’ll be ripping your clothes off after the night I show you.”