7.1

Vincent was more manageable of a patient once he was settled into the coach and they were on their way into the village near the estate. Blythe was glad for it, because if he hadn't setttled down, she would have given serious consideration to shanking some part of him that he might have preferred to keep. He was quiet and drowsy as they were rocked lightly by the coach; Xavier had opted to drive rather than tie up one of the servants from the estate, and he'd disappeared at the beginning of the journey, leaving her with their patient. Blythe wasn't one to stay settled, though. Finding Vincent nearly asleep, she rose and moved towards the driver's compartment, where she found Xavier staring pensively out the main viewport. She settled in the seat next to him and gave him a look.

"You may as well tell me what's troubling you. Vincent's going to be hard enough to wrangle without you getting all wishy-washy on me." Her words had the same biting sting to them that everything she said did, but she wasn't being malicious. She hoped he sensed that, at least on some level. He seemed to, when he didn't rise to the bait, and instead just glanced at her. He didn't respond right away, but his forehead creased and he huffed a sigh. "You can't be held responsible for your brother's actions." She snapped, trying to goad him into some kind of action. He didn't even respond at first, but glanced at her with some kind of smirk and shrugged.

"It may seem strange, but I'm not actually concerned about that. Basile is an ass, and he always has been. I'm not my brother's keeper." he said with a hint of wisdom that surprised her. She shifted and leaned back a bit. The obvious answer wasn't always the right one, she knew, but males were usually more one dimensional than this. She frowned, and when he glanced at her, it was clear that he was amused that he'd stumped her. The amusement, though brief, lit his eyes and made him seem younger than he usually acted. When the light faded, she felt a pang at its loss. "It's Lady Nicole." he began. He had a brief look, as if he didn't want to go on, so she leaned over and jabbed him in the ribs. He jumped and glared at her, but she shrugged and nodded for him to go on. "Will this Court ever function like it should? We should have known that she was in pain, that she'd come much closer to death than just a threat. That's our job, and we failed. If she dismissed us all, I wouldn't be surprised." He was miserable.

Blythe hated distressed males. Witches had such a bad reputation for being overly emotional, but in Blythe's opinion, males were infinitely worse. She sighed and finger combed her hair out of her face. "She did what she thought best. She obviously has some kind of faith in you or she wouldn't be trying so damned hard." She said "you" but she thought "us". Was she truly any different than these untried and untrusted males? Nicole was her cousin, but they were worlds away from the little girls that had been keen trouble for their guardians as carefree youths. "Give the Queen some credit. She did what she thought was best. She didn't hide the attack from you, just that she got hurt. And it wasn't that bad, trust me, I checked on her before-" Before she'd gone to yell at him and the other males for being so stupid and male. Before that kiss that she still wasn't entirely sure about. It had been an impulse, and while she didn't regret it, precisely, it did frighten her. "Well, anyway. She's a Queen. She can't help but want to protect and heal everyone. And she knows that the Court doesn't entirely trust one another yet." She glanced over to her left, towards the compartment where the middle aged Prince even now drifted in and out of a dream. "There's too many wounds. Your men think of those that came with the Lady as soft. They think of you as dangerous. No one is entirely wrong, but no one is right either. Until you stop seeing them as the 'others' and start thinking of yourselves as being on the same side... well, how can she trust you? Any of you?" She conveniently left her own name off of that list though she had her own doubts.

Xavier didn't respond for a long moment. When he did, she could hear him trying very hard to sound reasonable. "Why do I want to throw myself at her feet? To give up myself to her judgements, good or bad? I've spent centuries looking out for myself, and my men... and now I want to give all of that up for her. I want to give her everything." he was vulnerable. She knew that a male like him would hate that more than anything else. She touched his arm.

"It's been too long since Dhemlan had a Queen worth her salt, Prince. She's your Queen. A long time ago, we would have all known how to deal with that in a way that wasn't terrifying. But trust your instincts. If she's even half the Queen she was when we were children, she's worth your time and your heart." Blythe breathed. She dared to reach over, to touch Xavier's face. He turned to her, leaning into that touch, eyes drifting closed. When they finally landed in the village, some small time later, there was a stronger measure of peace in Xavier's eyes, and a certain fire in Blythe's. Vincent, wisely, didn't ask.

7.2

The streets of the village were oddly quieted, as if the people were in hiding. Xavier looked around, brow furrowed, wishing that even now the people didn't feel the need to hide. Three years wasn't much time at all. The Healer's hut was empty, deserted, and no one appeared to volunteer any information. Xavier was feeling somewhat desperate and very frustrated by the time they spotted a dark head of hair and a petite figure up ahead. He jogged ahead, leaving Vincent (who didn't look so good) with Blythe. He rounded the poor girl, and looked down at her. She was tiny!

"Lady, we're in desperate need of a Healer. Our friend has been bad hurt. Do you know where the village Healer has gone?"

The poor girl looked like she was going to bolt, or explode. She didn't answer at once, and took a careful step back to put more distance between them. A glance over her shoulder, and she must have realized that he wasn't alone. Xavier wanted to leave her alone, her terror was pounding at him, but he couldn't. She was a Healer. She turned, chewing her lip, and looked at the injured man. Something in her shifted.

"I'm not trained." she said simply. "But I can show you how to find the Healer. I know where she hides." She bounced off, like a bunny bounding through the brush, and they were hard pressed to keep up. The girl was maybe a teenager, and she didn't really look Dhemlanese. Xavier pondered her and her presence here as he and Blythe struggled with Vincent to keep up. They came, eventually, to the Healer's hut, where the girl entered and called out. They'd just been here, Xavier thought, and found no one. He was beginning to get impatient when he heard, and sensed, someone else moving around in there. He blinked.

"Well come in, the poor man looks pitiful." An aged Healer's voice. Xavier knew Healer vs. normal old woman; it was particularly frightening. They brought Vincent in, and sat him down. Blythe shifted, clearly uncomfortable, as the aged old witch looked them over. "What happened to him?" the witch snapped as she snapped her fingers. The girl bounded to a cupboard, as if she took commands only in the form of finger snaps and glares. The girl produced a bowl, some ointments, and some thread and a needle. The old woman was using Craft to boil water as she looked between them.

"He was caught between an angry Warlord Prince and an innocent witch." Blythe replied bluntly. Idly, somewhere in his mind, Xavier wondered if Blythe felt like she was talking to her future self; no, probably not. Blythe wasn't a Healer.

The Healer tutted and gave Xavier a glare.

"Not me!" he managed to sputter. She harumphed and washed the area of blood. But she shook her head.

"I'm going to have to stitch it, it's too deep to heal on its own before he loses too much blood. You, boy, make yourself useful. Hold him down." Xavier blinked at the orders and looked at Vincent. The older man was white around the edges, and he nodded. Xavier didn't like this, but he crossed to the Steward and laid him back, securing his shoulders. Vincent wasn't a strong as Xavier, a naturally more lithe and slender man. But there was still muscle in those shoulders. Vincent gave him an odd look, and then closed his eyes.

Blythe was a little green before the procedure was done. She swallowed back, hard, on the breakfast she'd regretted eating at least twice now, and finally stepped forward to push sodden bangs out of Vincent's face, when the Healer swore she was done. He'd blacked out twice during the procedure, but when she touched his forehead he looked up at her with pained, exhausted gold eyes. "Nothing for the pain?" Blythe asked coldly. Most Healers were cracks at best; Blythe didn't much like them. She could heal most of her own troubles, anyway.

"He doesn't need it." The old Healer said coldly. "That'll be ten silver marks for the stitching, and another five if you want a restorative brew for what blood he's lost." Xavier felt his temper pique. Mercenary old bitch. The poor girl seemed even more skittish now.

"No, we'll manage." Blythe hissed and called in a wallet. Her first quarter's wages were within. They had intended to start a tab here for the Court, but neither Xavier nor Blythe wanted to return. They would find another Healer. Blythe shoved the marks into the Healer's hands, and turned to Vincent. "Can you walk, Prince?" He inclined his head, though he seemed to loll a bit at the motion. Blythe helped him to stand, and the three left the hut in a huff.

The girl followed them.

"I can help!" she managed. The three turned, but she shrunk back. "I mean, I... I can brew a restorative brew. He does need one." she said and immediately shrank back into herself.

Xavier gentled his expression. Blythe opened her mouth, no doubt to ask what this Healer's price was, but he stilled her before she spoke. "That would be greatly appreciated, Lady..."

"Kelly Epson." The name sounded foreign on her tongue, and he suspected it wasn't her real name. Despite that, though, he smiled and motioned for her to join them.

"Lady Epson. We'll return to the estate, and you can have the use of Lady Deloncre's store rooms to work. Does that sound acceptable?"

She swallowed, then nodded. He wondered how hard it was for her to agree to come with them.