Usurper of flames

Physician's apprentice

Chapter 4: Physician's apprentice

The physician's quarters are tucked away in a corner of the castle, an oddly quiet space, filled with the scent of dried herbs, bitter tonics, and antiseptic. The familiar scent of Gaius's quarters hits me before I even see him. Though it's tainted now with the bitterness of antiseptics and foreign tonics, it still reminds me of the countless times I'd sat here as a boy, scraping knees, enduring coughs, or sneaking in to avoid some lesson or duty. This room used to be a place of refuge. Now, it feels like a confessional, a reminder of all I've lost.

"Gaius?" The name escapes my lips before I can hold it back, almost a whisper, as if saying it aloud will break some fragile illusion. The old man turns, and there he is, just as I remember him, though his face is more lined and his hair a shade whiter. Gaius, my childhood physician, my caretaker in so many ways, stands before me in his familiar brown robes, and for a moment, it's as if I'm a boy again, hurt from some foolish fall or mischief, rather than beaten and bound by the whims of a queen.

"Arlo," he says, voice gruff but softened by something like relief. He steps closer, his eyes scanning over the bruises on my face, the cuts along my knuckles. "They said you were... But I never imagined—" He pauses, his hands hovering just above my shoulders, as if unsure whether he's allowed to comfort me.

"Still practising, Gaius?" I ask, unable to keep the astonishment from my tone. The queen had kept him on in her court? A woman who destroyed my family, my kingdom... yet she hadn't cast him out?

He nods slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Seems even usurpers have need of a good physician." His eyes, however, tell a different story: one of caution, restraint. Gaius is here by grace, nothing more. The thought both relieves and pains me; the man who'd been as close as kin to me is now another pawn in her kingdom.

He places a hand on my shoulder, finally bridging the gap of familiarity. "Come, sit down, let me have a look at you."

I let him guide me to the stool, his touch gentle but firm, just as it always was. The warmth of the brazier and the scent of healing herbs are a balm, a reminder of something kinder, safer. For a moment, the tension melts from my shoulders, the armour I've built up cracking under the weight of this familiarity.

"What did they do to you?" he murmurs, fingers probing lightly around a bruise, his face drawn with worry.

"Nothing I didn't expect," I mutter, trying to sound nonchalant, but the bitterness seeps through. Gaius sighs, reaching for a salve, and I can see the frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.

"You never should have been in those cells, Arlo." His words are soft, but they cut through me. I look away, ashamed, a reminder of how far I've fallen. "This should not have been your fate."

"And yet," I say, forcing a bitter smile, "here we are."

He shakes his head, applying the salve with a tenderness that feels foreign after all I've endured. "It's not over yet," he says quietly, his voice full of an old, unyielding loyalty that I'd nearly forgotten. "You may think you're alone, but there are those who still remember who you are, Arlo. Who you were."

I can't bring myself to meet his gaze. "And what would they have me do, Gaius? Pretend this isn't happening? Pretend that woman hasn't taken everything?"

"They would have you hold on," he replies, his hand lingering on my shoulder before he steps back. "Learn to play her game."

I nod, feeling the old stirrings of defiance somewhere deep within me, something that I thought had been extinguished. Maybe he's right; maybe there's a part of me that isn't ready to be defeated just yet.