I invite them to try

"This will need to be thoroughly cleaned and stitched," a woman with severe brows and a serious expression informed him as she examined Perry's wounds. 

When Mal had called for a healer and shooed anyone else who tried to get their hands on Perry, he envisioned being treated by an older person, someone wise and world-weary. 

The woman who scowled at him and then at Mal looked to be about a few years older than Perry. 

"You did not take proper care of him," she accused Mal. 

Perry felt compelled to defend Mal, but before he could, the other man nodded. "I did not."

"I'm fine," Perry said automatically. 

The woman turned her severe eyebrows back to him. "Your Highness, this will scar." She gestured to Perry's arm and the four deep gashes that ran from his shoulder to his elbow. 

Perry had never been the most vain person, so he didn't really see the problem. "That's okay." 

She frowned at Perry and then glared at Mal before picking a porcelain bottle from inside a wooden crate and soaking a clean cloth with its contents. It smelled earthy and fresh. When she'd first rushed to see Perry, she'd plied him with a multitude of tonics and pills. Some, she said, were for his fever, others so the 'green rot' - whatever that was - would not set in. One of them - Perry had no idea which - was thankfully for pain. 

So when she dabbed the cloth over Perry's arm, all he felt was an uncomfortable prodding. 

When she'd first presented herself to care for Perry's wounds, Mal had scrutinized every single item she'd brought in a big wooden box. He'd gone as far as tasting some of her ointments and medications to make sure they were safe for him. And that she wasn't yet another person trying to assassinate him. 

Perry felt oddly touched by Mal's protectiveness. Especially since he was 99% sure Mal was fully aware Perry was not in fact the real prince, just pretending to be one - especially after their conversation about Perry's home. But it also itched at his brain, Mal's overprotectiveness. Sure, he'd said he had lost himself and wanted to find whatever was taken from him - Perry assumed it was some kind of metaphor or something. Maybe he was on a spiritual journey, who knew? 

And even though Perry told himself he was silly and naive for thinking it, he started to believe that maybe Mal did care for him - Perry, the person, and not the fake prince. Just a bit. 

"After I am done, you will rest," the healer - Perry also hadn't caught her name - commanded. "I will not have you push yourself and ruin all of my hard work. Your Highness."

"Are you and Galana close?" Perry asked as she pulled a thin needle and even thinner thread from her box of supplies. He tried not to shudder at the knowledge that that sharp point was going in and out of his skin very soon. 

"The librarian?" The healer asked as she sterilized the needle. 

"The one and only."

"No, I do not believe we have ever crossed paths. Why?"

"No reason. I just think you two would get along well." Perry leaned his head back against the plush couch Mal had set him down on and sighed at the ceiling. 

They were in the office part of the prince's rooms, where the bathtub and the desk with all the official-looking documents were. Mal had locked both of them inside and allowed Perry to let only the healer in. 

Perry tried to enjoy the peace and quiet while he could. He was sure that any minute now the-

"Her Majesty, the Queen, demands to see His Highness, the First Prince," a voice, probably the Head Servant, called from outside.

Perry groaned. "What are the consequences of ignoring her?"

Mal seemed to seriously consider his question before answering. "She may very well throw me in the dungeon."

"Not me?" Perry asked. 

Mal tilted his head to one side, then the other. "Improbable, but not impossible."

"Honestly? I wouldn't even complain at this point. A quiet place where no one bothers or tries to murder me? Sounds like a vacation." Perry sighed and rubbed his face with the hand attached to his arm not being held hostage by the healer.

The tonics and pills had helped lower his fever, and he didn't feel like he was on death's doorstep anymore. He just felt gross and sweaty. And tired. Always tired. Would there ever come a time when he didn't feel like that?

"Being in a dungeon does not diminish your chances of being assassinated, I am afraid. And being shackled to a wall would reduce your chances of fighting back." Mal glanced down to inspect the healer's work. "Besides, I would most likely not be allowed to share the same cell as you and would therefore have to murder a couple dozen of twenty or thirty guards before I could convince them thoroughly that we are not to be separated. It would be terribly inconvenient."

"Yes." Perry nodded slowly, far too tired to appropriately react to everything Mal had just said. "Terribly inconvenient."

There was another knock at the door. "Her Majesty, the Queen, demands to see His Highness, the First Prince," the same voice repeated, louder. 

"You should probably deal with that," Mal said, still inspecting the healer's every movement. 

Perry sighed and patted the woman's hand. "Give me a moment, doc. I need to see a Queen about a thing."

The woman looked less than pleased with him but didn't protest as she sat back and gave him space. 

Despite the pain pills and the tonics, Perry still winced as he struggled to his feet. Mal immediately bent and scooped him into his arms. 

"What're you doing?" Perry squeaked, hooking his good arm around the back of Mal's neck to keep his balance. 

"Carrying you to open the door for the Queen," Mal said matter-of-factly.

"I can walk," Perry protested, his neck and cheeks burning. 

"Can does not equate have. You are still injured."

Under the influence of the dreamroot, Perry could excuse his silly behavior of patting Mal on the cheek or rubbing his chest. But he was fully in control of his mental faculties and all his inhibitions were firmly back in place. 

So being carried around while half his chest was exposed like some damsel in distress made him feel… some type of way. Especially because Mal was the one doing the carrying. 

"Put me down," Perry hissed. He glanced back to see how the healer was reacting to the scene, but she seemed more interested in organizing the supplies she'd brought than paying attention to them. "You carrying me around in the woods when I'm injured and high on magic root is one thing, but doing so in my room after I've been medicated and am capable of walking on my own is a different story."

"I do not care about what gossip may arise," Mal said. 

"Well, I do. Don't know if you've noticed, but I'm trying to keep a low profile over here. You know, so I can stay alive and all that. I don't think people going around saying I'm… I'm… frolicking with my bodyguard will work in my favor." Perry ignored the way his cheeks burned at the mental images that flashed through his mind. 

"I fail to see how people speculating about your possible sexual entanglement with your bodyguard will affect your chances of staying alive," Mal observed with a straight face. 

Was he serious? "Well… what about your life, then? People could target you instead and try to assassinate you."

Mal snorted. "I invite them to try." 

Perry just stared at him. They were less than two steps from the door when, in an act of desperation, Perry tugged on Mal's ear. His bodyguard stopped and stared at him. 

Perry forced himself not to swallow at the less than impressed - and kind of scary - look Mal leveled at him. "Please, put me down. At least so I can open the door. I really don't want anyone who might be standing behind that door to see me like this."

He tilted his chin to indicate himself since his good hand was still occupied holding Mal's ear hostage. 

He said you don't have to be scared of him, Perry mentally reminded himself. Absolutely no need to be scared of the scary man who can catch arrows with his bare hands and invites assassins to try and murder him like it's a regular Tuesday. 

After some internal debate, Mal finally relented and set Perry down. Perry fumbled to pull his robe at least partially over his exposed chest and injured arm. When he felt he'd done the best he could, he unlocked the door. 

As expected, the Queen and a retinue of servants stood on the other side. She ran her gaze hurriedly over him, barely acknowledging Mal. 

"My son." She rushed into the room, extending both hands towards him. Despite everything inside him screaming at him to run in the other direction, he extended his good hand and let her take it in between hers. "Are you well? What happened?" That time she did turn to Mal.

It irked Perry a little that she thought he couldn't answer for himself, but he chose to ignore it. 

"There was an attempt on his life," Mal said bluntly. "It was almost successful."

The Queen visibly paled and looked at Perry, running her gaze over him again. "Who did this?"

"That is yet to be determined." Mal shifted his gaze from the two of them and Perry heard the sound of something metallic cut the air. "Did I say you could come in?"

The Head Servant stood, frozen, just outside the threshold of the room, Mal's simple sword held against his neck. Perry's stomach twisted and he forced himself not to slap Mal's hand away. 

Surely holding any kind of weapon that close to the Queen wasn't allowed. 

"You-Your Highness, I am merely here to fulfill my duty," the Head Servant stuttered, eyeing the sharp blade warily. 

"Lower your weapon, he is here to assist me in caring for my son," the Queen said dismissively. 

Perry closed his eyes and braced. 

"I did not say you could come in either," Mal said. To the Queen. 

Yep, there it was. Did he actually want to be thrown in the dungeon? Perry had been only kidding when he said it might be a nice getaway, but he wasn't so sure Mal had been kidding about murdering twenty or thirty guards if they happened to get in his way. 

As far as allegiances went, Mal seemed to play fast and loose with his. Except when it came to Perry, for some reason. 

The Queen glared at Mal and Perry felt the eyes of all the servants hanging in the hallway just outside his door fixed on them, taking everything in. Who knew who they would all report to later? 

He needed do deescalate this situation, fast. So he inhaled deeply and scrounged up every last bit of his terrible acting skills. 

"Mother," Perry said, forcing his voice to stay steady as he squeezed her hands. She turned her wide-eyed glare on him. That was better, at least. "It has been a long day. All I want is to allow the healer to treat my wounds and go to sleep. The servants can pamper me some other time."

The Queen's lips parted and she stared at him like she was seeing a ghost. Well, Perry supposed that, in some way, she kind of was. Guilt tried to rear its ugly little head up, but he pushed it down. 

With one final squeeze, he pulled his hand from between the Queen's and turned to the door. "Thank you, but I will not need any of you tonight."

Without waiting for a response, he closed and locked it in the Head Servant's face. Mal lowered his sword but didn't put it away. Where had he even gotten that thing from? Perry made a mental note to ask him about it later. 

Perry's shoulders slumped, and he sagged against the door, momentarily closing his eyes. 

"Are you sure you are well?" The Queen asked, her voice deceptively soft. Perry was ashamed to admit that some tiny - insignificant, really - part of him wanted to accept her motherly comfort. Even if it was a lie. 

"No," Mal answered for him. "He is not."

And then he scooped Perry into his arms again and walked back to where the healer waited for them, leaving the Queen by the door, speechless as she stared after them.