Cendres
Chapter Six
Matthew woke up after he was jostled around a little too much. He tried to lift his head, but found a painful throbbing throughout his skull.
"Shh, shh. Lay back down, you're all right," someone crooned.
Matthew cracked an eye open and saw Kirkland seated across from him. A man sat beside him. Tall, even while sitting, blond and easy on the eyes.
"Where am I?" Matthew croaked.
"In our carriage. We're taking you back to the palace," Kirkland smiled kindly.
"The palace?"
"We have reason to believe you are the person Prince Francis is looking for," Kirkland said softly.
Matthew felt the blood rush to his head. He wasn't sure if it was from excitement or nausea. "I am. I have the rose-" he dropped off his sentence. The rose was probably back in the house with that awful man. He did not want to go back.
"Don't worry about it. Francis will know if it's you." Kirkland patted Matthew's arm.
Matthew was silent, unsure of what to say. Finally he had a question. "How did I get out?"
"A man named Gilbert stopped us from leaving," Kirkland said. "He left before we left with you, but he did tell me to let you know he was sorry. And that he loved you."
Matthew felt tears prick his eyes. He lowered his head back to the seat.
"If you don't mind me asking," Kirkland's voice was gentle, like he was talking to a frightened animal. "Who was this man?"
"My fairy godmother," Matthew mumbled through numb lips.
Kirkland and his guard were silent the rest of the way to the palace.
Alfred left the carriage first. He closed the door firmly behind him. Arthur heard shouts of protest and high-pitched shrieking.
"What's that?" Matthew asked.
"Robert Williams and his daughters. We took them into custody." Arthur explained.
"I bet they're mad."
"From the shouting, I would assume so," Arthur said jokingly.
A small smile touched Matthew's bloodied mouth. They were quiet until the yelling dissipated.
"Sir Kirkland?" Matthew said timidly.
"Please, call me Arthur. My his guard is Alfred."
"Very well, Arthur," Matthew swallowed. "What if I'm not who the Prince thinks I am?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not some mysterious, beautiful stranger. I'm just a boy who was beaten and happened to have someone rescue me," Matthew said softly.
Arthur smiled and stood. "I think you'll find our Prince is not that shallow. Believe it or not. Are you able to stand?"
Matthew pushed himself up with a slight wince. His ribs and arm hurt something awful. Arthur slid his arm around Matthew's waist and all but lifted him to his feet.
"We'll get you to a doctor, then Francis will want to see you," Arthur said. He helped Matthew from the carriage. Williams and the girls were nowhere in sight.
Matthew nodded. He clung to Arthur as they walked. They were in a large courtyard. There were stables to the left and the gates leading out to the city on the right. Walking towards large double doors with picture-frame windows on either side, Matthew felt like he was in a dream. They were about halfway to the doors when Alfred came back with two other men clad in white. They held a stretcher between them.
"Took you long enough," Arthur passed Matthew to Alfred. He lifted him easily and set him on the stretcher.
"I'm sorry, I had to find a stretcher," Alfred said.
Arthur patted Alfred's chest. "Thank you. Will you go find Francis? I don't want to leave him alone."
"Alright," Alfred smiled gently, kissed Arthur's cheek and went back into the castle.
"Where is he going?" Matthew asked.
Arthur came to Matthew's side. He motioned for the medics to move. He took Matthew's hand as they walked. "He went to get Francis. We're going to the doctor now."
"Where is my stepfather?"
"Probably in the dungeon. Along with the girls. You don't have to worry about them anymore," Arthur smiled.
Matthew nodded weakly. "I don't want to be alone."
"I'll be right here," Arthur said. Shadow covered them as they entered the castle. Arthur had to jog to keep by Matthew's side.
"Thank you," Matthew said. He was tired. Everything throbbed, he was anxious to see Francis and worried about what happened to Gilbert. What was with that message he left for him? It sounded pretty cryptic.
They reached the hospital wing. The doctor was waiting for them with a clean bed and a pile of bandages. The assistants held the stretcher beside the bed. Arthur and the doctor lifted Matthew and moved him to the bed.
Matthew winced as he was moved. He watched as the doctor and his helpers moved above him. He could see Arthur out of the corner of his eye, sitting near his head.
His shirt was taken off and fingers were prodding his bruised sides. Matthew whimpered and tried to move away. Gentle hands pressed against his shoulders.
"You have to hold still, Matthew," Arthur said.
"Looks like the ribs aren't broken, luckily. Though his stomach does seem to have suffered some internal injury," the doctor said.
Matthew felt his eyes begin to water. Even if his ribs weren't broken, how would they fix his organs?
The door slammed open and Francis and Alfred came rushing in.
"Is it really him?" Francis asked as he approached Matthew's bed. Matthew turned his face away.
"Calm down, Francis," Arthur said. He stood and blocked Francis from coming any closer to Matthew.
"Alfred said he was hurt. How bad is it?" Francis tried to sidestep Arthur, but he caught his arm and pulled him a few feet away. Alfred went to Matthew's side.
"It's bad. He's scared and in pain. You have to calm down," Arthur whispered.
Francis glared. How could Arthur tell him to calm down? This poor boy was terribly injured by the person he should be able to trust most.
Arthur narrowed his eyes as well. "He needs comfort right now, not vengeance. He's already worried that you will reject him, let's not let him think he's going to die."
"Very well, I can do that."
"Good. Now go take Alfred's spot. We'll start the trial."
Francis nodded. Arthur and Alfred left and he went to Matthew's bed. Alfred looked at him, then bent down to Matthew's ear. Alfred stood a moment later and Francis took his spot.
"Hello, Matthew," Francis murmured. Matthew had his eyes tightly closed, his jaw clenched. The doctor and his assistants moved quickly and quietly over his torso.
Matthew pried his eyes open. They found Francis and some of his fear ebbed away. "Hi."
"How are you feeling?" Francis placed a gentle hand on Matthew's head. His hair was damp with sweat. He had to be exhausted.
"Hurts. What are they doing?" Matthew asked. He was too afraid to look down at himself. What if he was cut open and his insides were hanging out? Or what if his body wasn't there at all?
Francis glanced down at the doctors. The lead was pushing against Matthew's side while another pressed the top of his rib cage. A third was prodding her fingers around Matthew's stomach.
"They're poking at you. But don't worry, they'll make you all better," Francis said. He turned back to Matthew and smiled.
"Oh," Matthew breathed. He closed his eyes again. Francis thought he had passed out until he spoke again. "I have your rose. It's just a petal, but I have it."
"What?" Francis furrowed his brow. Was Matthew hallucinating? That wasn't a good sign.
"From the maze. I have your rose." Matthew opened his eyes.
Francis pressed his lips together before he made the connection. He remembered Matthew being enveloped by a bubble and a single petal floating into his hand. In all his rushing around and confusion, he had completely forgotten about the whole search for the flower. "You kept it?"
"I did. But I lost it when he came to my room," Matthew said. "I'm sorry."
"No, don't be sorry. I'm sorry that you had to go through that," said Francis. He smoothed Matthew's hair back. "I won't let him hurt you ever again."
A smile touched Matthew's lips, then he closed his eyes again. "I'm tired."
Francis turned to the doctor. "He's tired. Are you almost done?"
The head doctor gave a brief nod. "We just need to wrap his torso and set his arm. See how it's swollen? It's broken about halfway down his elbow."
Francis leaned over Matthew's torso to look at his left arm. It was indeed swollen and about twice the size of his right. He sat back down and met the doctor's gaze. "Is it going to hurt him?
After a glance at Matthew, the doctor nodded. Francis let out a deep sigh. He cupped Matthew's cheek. "Are you awake?"
Matthew cracked his eyes open. "Kind of."
"Alright, the doctor has to fix your arm. It might hurt a little. Are you ready?"
"Can I squeeze your hand?" Matthew asked. He seemed so small and fragile just then. Like a child.
Francis swallowed. His throat felt dry. "Squeeze as hard as you need."
Matthew nodded and the doctor took his arm. "On the count of three, I'm going to pull your arm. After a few seconds it will continue to ache, but if it's worse than it is now, we have to do it again. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Matthew said. He focused on his arm, making sure he knew exactly how much it hurt right now so the whole thing could be over with sooner.
"Alright," the doctor took hold of Matthew's wrist while another grabbed just below his elbow. "On three. One...two…" He pulled Matthew's arm.
Matthew cried out in pain and shock. He had Francis's hand in a death grip. Francis tried not to wince or pull his hand away, Matthew hurt a lot more than he did. "What happened to three?" Matthew all but yelled, no longer sleepy.
"I find if you're not expecting it, the pain is a lot less. How does it feel?" the doctor said casually. He touched Matthew's arm lightly.
Matthew paused to evaluate his arm, though he was still angry. "It's better."
"Good, as soon as it's wrapped you're free to go," the doctor said. He dragged a chair over and began to make a splint for Matthew. The assistants had Matthew sit up and they wrapped his torso tightly.
"Ow," Matthew hissed as they pulled at his skin. "What are you doing?"
"There's some lacerations on your body. We'll use one large bandage rather than a hundred small ones, yes?"
Matthew merely shrugged. Sleep was fogging his brain again.
"So, he's going to be all right?" Francis asked hesitantly.
The doctor nodded. "Bed rest, lots of soup and water. Take him outside for about an hour once a day and don't let him bathe on his own. Bring him back down in about a week and we'll see how he's getting along."
"I will. And doctor?" Francis said as the man stood. "Will you make a detailed report about Matthew's injuries? Leave nothing out."
"Yes, Your Highness," the doctor inclined his head and moved away.
Francis helped Matthew stand up. His exposed ahoulders were black and blue and there was still blood on his face. "Let's get you upstairs and cleaned up. How does that sound?"
Matthew nodded and let Francis wrap an arm around his waist. Then Alfred was on his other side.
"Looks like you could use some help," the guard said with a gentle smile.
"Alfred? When did you get here?" Francis asked.
"Just before he set Matthew's arm. I didn't want to distract him."
"I see. Where's Arthur?" Together, they carried the half-limp Matthew from the medical wing.
"He's making up a court and trial. He got Williams someone to talk for him, but even that man seems angry with the fat bastard," Alfred said. "Artie says he'll be up before dinner."
"Tell him to bring Matthew-"
"Chicken broth, tea and some water." Alfred smiled. They mounted the many stairs leading to Francis's room. "He's on it."
Matthew's lead lolled on his shoulders. He understood the conversation, but they talked so fast he wasn't sure if he would remember it. His body was warm from the two beside him, but it still ached and throbbed.
After what seemed like forever, Alfred took all of Matthew's weight so Francis could open his bedroom door. Matthew watched through slitted eyes, unsure of how long they had been walking.
Francis rushed in the room and disappeared behind another door. Alfred brought Matthew in and closed the door behind them.
Francis came out again, a bowl of water and a rag in his arms. "Just lay him on the bed. Will you get in my closet and grab a pajama shirt?"
"Of course," Alfred said. He brought Matthew over to the bed and eased him in. "Do you care which one?"
"No, just make sure it's soft," Francis replied. He swung Matthew's legs on the bed and set his bowl of water on the night stand. "Matthew? Are you awake?"
Matthew gave a small groan and lifted a few fingers. He was tired and wanted to sleep.
"Arthur's going to bring you some soup in a minute. Would you like some?" Francis wetted the cloth, wrung it out and started wiping the blood from Matthew's face.
Matthew winced and tried to pull away. How face hurt and Francis wasn't helping. "Stop," he managed to mumble out.
"Just a little bit more," Francis whispered. He scrubbed at a larger spot of blood, sending Matthew into tears.
"Shh, shh," Francis crooned. He felt helpless. Everything he did just hurt Matthew more. He had never felt so useless.
Arthur finally arrived. He carried a silver tray with ceramic dishes. The king was behind him.
Francis left Matthew's side and went to speak with his father. Matthew tried to pay attention, but sleep overtook him.
