76

Jacques wanted nothing more than to disappear off to the laboratory and drown himself in work and solitude until Dove vanished from his thoughts. But out here in the woods, he had to be satisfied with sitting with the very bane of his existence and listen to it express its worry over the princess.

He’s talking about Rubin, if it wasn’t clear.

The prince stands abruptly when he spots the healer taking a seat at the fire, completely misreading the signs that he wanted to be left along. Claiming the log next to the vampire, Rubin blurts out, “How is she? Could you save her leg?”

Could he save her leg? Jacques almost laughs dryly at the preposterous question. Is he not the castle healer? Does that not make him the best in the realm? Did this insolent boy truly think he’d fail?

Realizing how he was thinking, Jacques draws a deep breath to calm himself. This wasn’t like him. He doesn’t enjoy conflict, and he certainly has no reason to despise the human prince for showing concern over Dove. In fact, he should be grateful for it. At least he knows Rubin truly cares about her and not just for the role she’s playing in their betrothal.

“The princess is fine,” he finally answers, gazing into the fire. “If she takes her medicine as I prescribed it, she’ll recover before her birthday.”

Rubin releases a breath, sounding genuinely relieved. “That is…good. Thank the gods – and thank you for healing her. I apologize if I sounded doubtful earlier.”

Again, Jacques almost scoffs and rolls his eyes. Almost. Dove was right, the prince is too perfect. Too kind, too polite, too…everything. It’s impossible to compete with that, thus making him wonder if he ever stood a chance at all.

“Do you think,” the prince says hopefully, “that I could check in on her briefly? I promise it’ll only be a minute; I understand she needs to rest.”

Jacques can only nod his head, too tired to give a verbal response.

That is all answer the prince needs to rise to his feet and cross the space between the fire and Dove’s tent, calling out to her before stepping inside. And being the obviously respectable gentleman that a prince should be, he even ties the tent’s flap back so they can be supervised. As if showing the healer that he won’t even attempt to make a move on her in the privacy of her tent, whilst she’s injured.

Turning his gaze back to the fire, Jacques chooses to rather ignore the interactions between the two royals. A crunching of footsteps, however, makes him cast a glimpse over his shoulder, noticing Lorcan and Gustav making their way over. Seeing the lack of blood on their hands and their clothes still intact, he assumes they are Dweller-free for the night.

“How is Dove?” That’s the first thing Lorcan says when they arrive at the camp, his eyes cutting from the healer to his daughter, who’s silently conversing with the prince in her tent. “Please tell me you could you save her leg.”

Jacques has had enough. He rises abruptly, his motions conveying irritation. “Why does everyone keep asking that? Am I not the *best* healer in Sangaris? Did Elle not survive the Vorigan Coven’s torture thanks to me? So, why would I be any *less qualified* and *capable* to do the same for Dove?!”

Silence dawns over the camp after his outburst, one could ear a pin drop from yards away. Even the crickets ceased their chatter, rendering the forest eerily quiet.

Everyone stares at the healer facing down the king, anxious to see what the consequences will be for his behaviour. Gustav looks undeniably worried and confused. He hardly recognizes his friend and colleague like this – hostile and short-tempered. The Southern king and prince observes in silence, both curious to see how Lorcan would handle the situation.

Lorcan, however, does nothing but stare Jacques down until the latter slowly descends from his outburst. Even he knows the healer doesn’t normally raise his voice, let alone lose his temper. Perhaps he’s gone soft. If this had happened before he met Elle, he would’ve had Jacques punished for raising his voice to his king.

As soon as the healer realizes what he’s done, he backs off and blurts out an apology, “Forgive me, my king. I’ve been on edge since the princess nearly lost her foot in that trap. Please, allow me to collect myself outside of camp.”

Lorcan nods stiffly. “I agree, you should take a walk.” To Gustav, he says, “Go with him, make sure he’s calm before he returns.”

“Yes, my king,” Gustav hurriedly replies and grabs Jacques by the arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

Jacques allows the herbologist to lead him deeper into the forest where the fire’s light don’t reach. But looking back to catch a final glimpse of Dove, he realizes it’s the greatest mistake he could’ve made that evening.

An icy hand claws into his heart when, in that brief moment, he sees Prince Rubin taking both Dove’s hands in hers, and leaning in for her lips…and her doing the same.

He turns his head away before he could see the outcome and the next moment, yanks his arm from Gustav’s grip. Without warning, Jacques speeds off, desperate to put as much distance between him and that camp.

“Jacques, wait,” the herbologist calls after him, but know its futile. Sighing heavily, he takes off after him, weaving through trees and shrubs while locking his eyes on the healer ahead.

Jacques runs until the cold night air stings his eyes, until every time he breathes, his lungs burn with pain and fatigue. He doesn’t slow down until he’s reached the edge of the forest that ends in a steep drop towards the ocean below. The waves crash violently against the cliffside, promising to claim any soul who dares to dive into them.

And if he wasn’t immortal, perhaps he would have.

“For the gods’ sake, would you stop already?!” Gustav exclaims once he, too, skids to a halt at the cliff. Hardly sparing a glace at the raging sea below, he nearly yells at his friend, “What is *wrong* with you? You can’t talk to a king like that, even less in front of company! Do you have any idea how fortunate you are for Lorcan to let you off so easily?”

Jacques is still staring at the waves, unable to wipe the memory of Rubin and Dove leaning towards each other. He can’t stand the idea of them kissing that very moment. It hurts more than any silver ever could.

Meanwhile, Gustav continues his rebuking, “I hardly recognize you right now. You’ve grown irrational, short-tempered, angry. Those are not the traits of a healer, you know that. Have you not been feeding lately, or what? Jacques, are you even listening to me right now?” The herbologist has had enough. Grabbing his friend by the shoulders, he twists him around and shakes him. “I said, are you *listening* to me? What has gotten into you?!”

“*I love her, alright!*” Jacques just about roars, finally admitting what he’s been denying all this time. Immediately, a weight is lifted off his shoulders that chases off his anger, thus allowing him to speak more civilly, “I’m in love with Dove. I can’t stop thinking about her, can’t sleep, can’t feed. And seeing her with that…that prince…hurts. It hurts so much, I can’t…I don’t know what to do. I can’t *stop* it, Gus. I can’t stop *loving* her.”

Gustav stares at him wide-eyed, emotions of fear and shock swirling in his dark gaze. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For a moment, neither of them speak. But once the revelation had sink in and they regained some clarity, the herbologist is the first to break the silence.

“My friend, you know how wrong that is, don’t you?”

Jacques breathes a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t I, indeed.”

“You’re the royal healer, you practically pulled her out of Elle the day she was born!”

“Do you think I planned this, huh?” Jacques fires back. “Do you think I wrote ‘Fall in love with the princess’ on my itinerary? We both know love doesn’t work like that, Gus. Love is irrational, unplanned, and sometimes blur the lines between right and wrong. Just look at Elle and Lorcan.”

“We both know that’s different,” Gustav says evenly. “Jacques, Dove is a princess. She’s a few days away from marrying Rubin, and not to mention barely of age –”

“She’s turning nineteen in a few days.”

“—and Lorcan will have your head if he finds out what you feel for his daughter.” Gustav’s eyes observe the healer’s expression carefully, noticing him shrugging off everything he said. “However, now I’m more scared of you actually *entertaining* the idea of having a chance with Dove. Have you not heard anything I said?”

Jacques rolls his eyes and turns back toward the cliff. He won’t jump, not that it would work anyway. However, he might just stay there until Dove is married and shipped off.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally says, battling against the tightness in his chest. “You win. I’ll stay away from her from now on. In fact, I won’t leave the laboratory for the rest of the week unless summoned by the king himself.”

Letting his promise drift off with the ocean breeze, Jacques turns around and begins his journey back to camp, brushing past Gustav.

“I think I’m calm enough now.”