Medicine | King Baldwin

8

As Baldwin carefully positioned his mask on the surface next to him, a shiver ran through him, his breath escaping in a quivering exhale before he mustered the courage to raise his eyes to meet Isabel's, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face, a few strands of his dirty blonde hair covering his ocean blue eyes.

Isabel's gaze lingered on the man's face, her eyes tracing the contours with a mix of curiosity. It wasn't a scrutinizing stare born of judgment, but rather a careful examination prompted by her earlier expectations. Contrary to what she had anticipated, there were no disfiguring scars of leprosy marring the king's features. A scattering of scars adorned his face, reminiscent of those visible on his arms. But Isabel rather than detracting from his countenance, they seemed to add a rugged charm.

However, Isabel's scrutiny was abruptly interrupted when Baldwin uncomfortably averted his gaze. The subtle shift in his demeanor spoke volumes, causing Isabel to immediately recognize her misstep. She had inadvertently placed the king in a discomforting situation, and a rush of guilt flooded her senses.

"Now that you've had the misfortune of glimpsing my less-than-appealing countenance, I suggest you proceed with your duties and make your exit." Baldwin stated with a detached air, subtly distancing himself from Isabel.

The sudden shift in the man's demeanor caught the girl off guard, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before she extended a gentle hand, guiding his gaze back towards her.

Isabel's fingers moved deftly as she continued to address the wounds on the king's face. The sight of the scars, coupled with the king's dismissive remark, stirred a tumult of questions within her. Why did he harbor such self-deprecating thoughts about his appearance? What experiences had shaped his perception of himself? These thoughts swirled in her mind, weaving a complex tapestry of curiosity and concern.

She wondered if the scars were not merely physical, but also symbolic of deeper wounds, invisible to the eye yet etched into the very essence of his being. Lost in her musings, Isabel hesitated before speaking, choosing her words carefully. Finally, she broke the silence that hung heavy in the air.

"As you wish, Your Majesty." the words slipped from Isabel's lips with a gentle reassurance as she deftly tended to the King's wounds. Once she finished bandaging his injuries, she paused, meeting his gaze with sincerity.

"But just so you know." she continued, her voice soft yet firm. "Your outward appearance holds no sway over the value I place on your inner worth." Her words carried a weight of earnestness, a testament to her genuine regard for the King beyond his physical appearance.

Baldwin regarded the girl with a skeptical furrow of his brow as she rose from her task and started to pack her belongings. It baffled him that someone could view his appearance with anything but disdain or pity. The scars that marred his features had often been a barrier between himself and others, a constant reminder of his own perceived shortcomings.

Why, then, did this angelic creature not recoil from his repelling exterior like so many others had? The notion perplexed him, stirring a mix of confusion and curiosity within him as he watched her calmly continue her preparations.

"Your Majesty, please, have this." Isabel said, presenting the steaming cup to the king with a gentle gesture. "It will help prevent the onset of fever. Plus, it's quite delicious." she added, a warm smile gracing her lips as she held the cup out to him. The king regarded her for a moment, his expression softened by her kindness, before he accepted the offering with a nod of gratitude.

"Have a good night, Your Grace." Isabel expressed with a gentle bow, her words carrying a sincere wish as she honored the king's presence. With a graceful poise, she adhered to the king's request and left without further ado. The rhythmic tap of her footwear echoed softly, gradually fading into the distance until her elegant silhouette vanished behind the door, leaving the room in a hushed ambiance imbued with her fleeting grace.

"Goodnight." Baldwin murmured after Isabel had departed, his voice resembling more of a whisper. It carried a delicate timbre, akin to a soft breeze gently escaping his lips, lingering momentarily in the air before dissipating into the quietude of the room.

After Isabel left the king's chamber, she made her way back to the work chamber, carrying the tray and utensils in her hands while her mind were consumed entirely by the king. She couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness that had settled upon her since their encounter.

As she reflected on her interactions with the king, a nagging doubt crept into her mind: had she been overly intrusive in her dealings with him? The memory of their brief exchange replayed in her thoughts, each word and gesture scrutinized for any hint of impropriety. She had only sought to serve him dutifully, yet now she couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps she had overstepped some invisible boundary.

After gently placing the tray and utensils in their designated spots, Isabel turned her steps towards the sanctuary of her own chamber, anticipation building with each approaching stride. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her shoulders, the demands of her duties coupled with the unfamiliarity of her surroundings leaving her drained both physically and emotionally.

As she finally reached out to grasp the door handle, a surge of relief washed over her. With a sigh of contentment, she pushed the door open, eager to leave the cares of the day behind and surrender to the embrace of her own space.

"Jeanette?" The name escaped Isabel's lips in a hushed tone, laced with surprise as she stepped into her chamber and caught sight of the sleeping figure nestled in the chair. With furrowed brows and a mixture of curiosity, Isabel approached quietly. Why Jeanette would be there, asleep in the uncomfortable chair.

As Isabel tenderly reached out to touch the sleeping girl's shoulder, Jeanette's reaction was anything but expected. With a suddenness that seemed to defy the peaceful ambiance of the chamber, Jeanette bolted upright as if startled by some unseen specter, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and fear. The abruptness of her movement caught Isabel off guard, causing her to recoil instinctively, her own heart racing in tandem with the unexpected turn of events.

For a fleeting moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the rapid rhythm of their breathing as they both attempted to process what had just occurred.

"My lady, forgive me for dozing off in your chamber." Jeanette apologized, her voice tinged with embarrassment as she lowered her head in shame. Isabel felt a wave of empathy wash over her as Jeanette spoke, her voice tinged with a palpable sense of remorse.

"Oh, my dear, there's nothing to apologize for." Isabel replied, her tone warm and reassuring. "But tell me, what brought you here?"

"After you left to attend to your duties, I couldn't locate you, so I decided to wait for you here." Jeanette explained, her voice soft with embarrassment as she lifted her gaze to meet Isabel's. "But, as you can see... I must have dozed off." A faint flush colored her cheeks as she admitted her lapse.

"It's alright, I'm here now. You should go and get some rest." Isabel said, her touch gentle as she grasped Jeanette's shoulders. "I'll see you in the morning." With a warm smile, Isabel encouraged Jeanette to leave. The blonde nodded gratefully and made her way out of the room, wishing a good night to Isabel.

As Isabel immersed herself in the evening rituals of her routine, her mind wandered back to Jurian. Since her arrival at the palace, the demands of her new role had consumed her attention, leaving little room for thoughts of the boy. Yet, as the days stretched into a week since his departure for Egypt, his absence weighed heavily on her mind.

She wondered how he fared on his journey, if he encountered any dangers along the way, or if he missed her as much as she missed him. The uncertainty gnawed at her, a constant undercurrent of worry that lingered just beneath the surface of her daily routines.

Determined to ease her concerns and maintain some semblance of connection with Jurian, Isabel resolved to find out who could deliver a letter to him.