28FOUR
That morning, after dumping her notes and vials into her satchel, Artemis went to find Lord Larrison for the day's work. Dunst Larrison is an adored courtier with his fair locks and sincere grey eyes. His effeminate features hid his efficiency and astuteness, a dangerous combination for the unwary.
"Lord Larrison, I came for the list of patients I should see today."
Lord Larrison regarded her with his ever steady gaze before giving her a slip of paper. She quickly read the two names and knew that she would be finished within the day. Before she could excuse herself, he said, "I'm going to let you go, but you have to make a decision at the end of the day."
Artemis did not say anything, but gave him a stiff nod and fled. The chatter of the Jones sisters and the complaints of Lord Ekeman managed to calm her nerves. She focused on administering the brews for the Jones Sisters and lowering the blood pressure of Lord Ekeman that her work was lamentably done within a space of few hours—not enough to give her a needed reprieve. Mentally girding her loins, she went to the city, as her routine, just to check on her patients. This was voluntary work but volunteers were given monetary incentives. Most enlisted for the money but she was one of the few who enlisted because it was a matter of principle. Her last stop was Ben, a baker's son suffering chest pains. She spotted his mother, sweeping the floor of their shop. Just as she was planning to enter, a huge stocky enraged man blocked her advance.
He apparently remembered her and their last skirmish. It was not pretty but she remembered winning that particular round.
"What are you doing here?"
His wife, thank goodness, tried to talk for her. "She's the one of those female doctors," Artemis inwardly winced when she saw the full-fledged scowl on the man's face. ". . . that gave me the cough medicine. Ben's not breathing very well these past days." Artemis broke in. "I brought him a salve. It has eucalyptus leaves and lemon to soothe his lungs—"
"Get lost, bitch! Ye ain't a doctor! Yer a quack!" He raised his fist and swung at her. She ducked but was too slow. The blow grazed her cheek. Pain radiated from the hit. Damn. That was going to be one ugly bruise. Clearly, she did not want to be his punching bag. She turned to his wife and tried to give her the vial, "This salve will—". However, before she could give the medicine, she was dragged by the collar. She tried to dislodge the man's grip but with no success. Her strength was no match against pounds of enraged and flabby male. He dumped her on the wet ground and began to shout. She felt a sharp sting at her palms as she landed. She further flinched when she realized that everyone's eyes were on them with eyes ranging from interest, hate and suspicion. There was no friendly face in sight—only a single pitying stare. Frustration filled her throat and she quickly stood up.
"Yer one of those Dinjun dogs! Ye gonna take my boy away and sell 'im!" He continued to rant and he poked her shoulder with his finger. She felt the blood rise to her cheeks. Those accusations were unfounded! She wanted to protest but what's the use? These bunch were—
She finally had enough.
"I'm a bloody physician!" She roared, momentarily stunning the bulky man. "If you're going to insult me make sure that you got it right! You can't even fix your vocabulary and you dare insult my education!"
"Ye bitch!" He raised his hand to slap her but she let out a laugh, a shrill laugh that stopped the man. What? Did they see how wild her eyes were? Was she one of those maniacal Dinjun spirits? Reckless and angry, she poked the man at his belly. "Is that all you know?! Go on! Hit me!" She taunted.
At that time, one of the Guards saw them and within a few strides were on them. The short-cropped hair, the bright blue coat, silver-trimmed black pants and shiny boots told her that he was a new recruit. He had that snobbish glint in his eyes and none of the wariness Gus' men had when dealing with her.
"What seems to be the problem here?" The damned guy addressed the bulky man not her. It made her angrier and sullen. So she replied before either man could respond. "I came to give his son his medicine but this oaf would not let me, Officer."
"Are you one of them, witches?"
Irritated, she corrected him, "I am a physician!" She tapped her hairpin. "Is this not proof enough?"
The man merely ignored her.
"She's a peddler, I tell ye! She must have stolen 'em!"
"Well, I'll take one of you in the gaol until you cool your heads and someone vouched for you, eh," the guard gave her a sideways glance that told her that he did not believe her.
"Your captain will vouch for me." She ignored his raised brows. "Just let me see the boy and then I'll come."
"I can't do that."
"Eh? Wait!" She protested. Why was she the only one dragged away? That guy! He should come, too right? He was the one who hit her!
"Why am I not surprised?" A masculine voice asked and she heard, rather than saw the bars open to let Augustus Jonas or Gus to his men, in. He sat opposite her. She glared at him balefully. She spent the rest of the day sitting on one of the corner the cell. The scent of fresh hay and the stench of unwashed bodies already desensitized her nostrils. Her lower back had already protested upon extended contact with the cold hard wall. She was already deaf to the noise of crude laughter from the other cells and the bustling activity of the city. She could not take a nap because her eyes were strained by scouting for importunate rats from the weak light filtering through the windows and bars. She had already exhausted her voice but she knew that no one would dare open the cell from the looks of guards.
"Are you so in love with me that you're willing to get locked up frequently? I really can't fault you for your creativity." He said with a grin. She turned to him.
"I'm not in the mood. Just let me go—"
"You caused a ruckus again? I thought that," he stopped and brought the lamp nearer. She saw his jovial façade quickly wiped out. The bruise must have started to color. His voice was replaced by steel. "Who was it this time? The chimney sweep?"
After a beat of silence, she said reluctantly, "It's Ben, the baker's boy."
"Oh, honey, why don't you save yourself first before helping them? I'm starting to doubt my masculinity if I can't keep you out of trouble." She gave him a wry smile.
"It's fine. If I can't get out until tomorrow, just give it to his mother before you go home." She said as she rummaged her bag for the vial. "Tell her that she was supposed to spread this to his chest and should never be ingested." When he did not take it, she thought that he did not understand so she clarified, "Eaten. This should not be eaten."
He scowled. "What do you take me for, Artemis? An idiot? I know those fancy words you use—injest—whatever," he stopped and continued. "Who was the idiot who took you anyway? They should know by now that they should help you or run the other direction whenever they see that dratted hairpin of yours."
"I guess you did not train them very well." She said, an unwanted grin pulling her lips.
She saw his face momentarily soften but it was too fast, quickly replaced by nonchalance. "I'll send you back to the castle before they ring the alarm."
The incident happened one time. When she was held up in the gaol for some nebulous offense and Princess Shannon did not see her. The latter alerted the whole household and spent the rest of the night scouring for her, fearful of bandits kidnapping her. Artemis, upon her return by morning had never been so exasperated by her friend nor so touched.
Gus led her out and exchanged a few words with the rest of the Guards who looked at her with contempt and fearful respect. She tried to apologize to Gus for the inconvenience but he would not hear the rest of it. They stopped at the baker's house and she applied the medicine on the boy's thin chest. After hearing the measured and easy breathes of the boy, she took her leave, not waiting for the couple's reaction. She did not need their words nor their gratitude. When they reached the castle gates, Gus broke the thick silence.
"Artemis, I've heard tales about you and that king."
She froze.
"I can ask my aunt to let you stay at my house—"
Fearing that she would burst into tears, she said flippantly, "No need. He'll tire of me and I'll go home." Her next words were lost when she was engulfed in a warm hug. She tried to push his arms away but it was ineffective. Her handful of friends had never been demonstrative and she found herself relishing human contact and the feeling of warmth even for a few moments.
"Let me protect you, please."
She tightened her arms around him briefly and released him. She shook her head and gave him a heartfelt smile before disappearing into the castle.
Gideon reigned in his temper when he had heard that she was away, working. He ignored his male pride and decided to finish some work. Unfortunately, when the sun started to set and Artemis showed no signs of returning, his temper began to fray at the edges. Something that rarely happened to him. He went to Artemis' quarters, prepared to give her a sample of his glorious temper but found no signs of her. He saw her robe in the closet and no sign of her hairpin. His male pride was rearing for a good showdown.
The knob turned and saw Artemis enter. They stared at each other for a moment and then she let out a squeak.
"What are you doing here?"
He was relieved that the deferential tone was gone in her voice. However, that relief was short-lived for his tongue got plastered to the roof of his mouth when she looked at him expectantly. Was that exasperation on her face? Anyway, what would he say? That he called for her that morning but she was away? Where was his renowned tongue? Looking for an inspiration, his eyes inadvertently fell on the bruise painting her cheek.
"What is that?" He demanded, forgetting his words. It was the wrong way to handle her, he realized when he saw the tightening of her features. Her lips disappeared into a single line.
He was starting to realize that she was more difficult than managing his male pride.
"A face paint."
He raised a brow.
"Occupational hazard. None of your concern, my lord."
The words enraged him. "It's Gideon. And just in case you value your head, it's King Gideon!" He snapped. "Now, I want to know . . . what happened?" He let enough steel in his tone to intimidate her. His informant was too lazy to report this!
Before she could reply, someone knocked on her door. She gave him a glare to go find a place to hide. With an inward groan, he squeezed himself into her closet. Before he could complain about the indignity of his position, it was not lost on him that she had far too many books and too few a dress.
He cursed when he saw Shannon enter Artemis room and sat on the bed. He winced when he saw the bruise and was irritated when Shannon applied the salve to her the injury. He heard snippets of their conversation.
"Captain Jonas had it all planned. He'll spirit you away."
"Shannon," Artemis said wryly. Her gaze quickly flicking towards his hide out. She could try to escape but he would not let her go. "Gus would be far too busy with his work."
She called that captain, Gus! His male pride was stunned.
"No, Artemis! I don't want you to feel abandoned!" Why are they casting him as the villain? His male pride was stung. He was not a bumbling oaf. He knew how to take of his woman. His woman? When did he start regarding her that way?
His male pride was stubbornly 'quiet', but making noises between a whimper and a growl.
The conversation dropped into hushed tones and Artemis moved out of the frame. He tried to move, to expand his view but the slit only offered a limited one. He had to rely on his ears. He could hear the movement and a quick intake of breathe followed by the teary voice of Shannon.
"Oh—" He could hear through hiccups. "—Dear. I never—I would never let anyone hurt you!"
"Thank you, Shannon," he heard her resolve in her quiet tone.
When Shannon managed to excuse herself, he burst out from his hiding place. He stretched his stiff muscles. He sat beside her and said, "Where's your medicine?"
"Are you having a headache or a late onslaught of conscience?" She asked tartly. The steel in her spine was back and so was the spark in her eyes.
"No, for your bruise." He said. When he saw her refuse, he gave her a warning glare. She presented the ointment to him and made a great show of applying the ointment. Not satisfied, he took it from her and took a generous layer for her bruise. She sat stiffly. He could feel her muscles poised for action but he ignored it for he found his hand slightly shaking. His hands that had held the hilt of the sword, broke the bones of men and squeezed the life out of so many souls and this woman would let him touch her, never mind that she looked too unwilling. He had never felt unsure of himself, not even when they were surrounded by enemies. He focused on her bruise and applied the salve on her skin as gently as possible. Maybe they were right. He could break her and the person they all knew and loved could break in his man-child hands.
"I am not that fragile, my lord," she said quietly as she placed her hands on his fingers and applied more pressure. Her skin was soft and warm, he could not help noticing. His male pride was slightly appeased.
"It's Gideon," he muttered, some sourness evident. He wanted to kick his male pride.
"It would not be appropriate, my lord."
He scowled at her. But she calls other people by their name. His male pride noted sullenly. He unintentionally increased the pressure, causing her to wince. She quickly removed his fingers and glared at him.
On hard days like this one, he just wished for the woman to just fall into his arms.
So she did.
He gripped her arms and pulled, hard. Then she fell. . . right where he wanted her. Straight into his arms.