Said No to the Prince and Yes to the King novel Chapter 90

Chapter 90 Tending Wounds

Just the sight of them sent a chill down Theodore’s spine.

Pinished

The path was rough, and the coach rocked heavily with cach uneven stretch. Every jolt made Margaret’s face tense with pain.

Theodore’s expression darkened. “Bring clean water and linen bandages, now.”

Moments later, a folded strip of clean cloth was passed into the compartment.

Cyan reappeared at the window. “Prince Theodore, Breston is still some distance ahead. How severe are your injuries? Do you need me to come in and assist with the salve?”

“No. Is there a woman nearby?”

Cyan was taken aback. Their party consisted entirely of men–where would a woman come from at this hour? Even if there had been any in the last village, they were leagues behind now. Turning back was out of the question, not when they were riding hard for Breston.

Then it struck him. Why would His Highness ask such a thing–unless…

Cyan spoke carefully, “Has Ms. Campbell been wounded as well? Perhaps we could rouse her. She knows her remedies–surely she could tend to herself-”

“Hand me the wound ointment.”

Theodore’s voice was icy.

Quietly, Cyan produced a small ceramic jar from his pouch and passed it through the window. “Prince Theodore, that’s the only one I carry. You should use it for yourself. As for Ms. Campbell, she could-”

“Enough.”

That single cold word silenced him at once.

But when the carriage curtain fluttered up in a sudden breeze, Cyan couldn’t help a glance inside—

A large hand promptly drew the window shutter closed, and the curtain fell back into place.

Startled, Cyan turned forward again and didn’t dare utter another word.

Theodore hadn’t known he could be so gentle.

His brow remained furrowed, yet his movements were careful, slow. Wherever his gaze landed–a cut, a bruise–he had already cleansed it with water and smoothed a thin layer of ointment over the skin.

A few of the wounds were deeper, needing the fabric drawn aside to properly treat. Theodore’s hand stilled.

By now, Margaret was down to her thin chemise. Removing another layer would leave her exposed.

11:39 am

Chapter 90 Tending Wounds

Yet leaving the wounds unattended was not an option.

As he hesitated, Margaret’s brow suddenly pinched. Beads of sweat had gathered on her forehead.

“Carol… why would you…”

She seemed caught in a dream.

Finished

An odd tightness rose in Theodore’s chest. He reached over and gently brushed her hair back, as though soothing a restless child.

All at once, Margaret’s eyes flew open.

Theodore withdrew his hand quickly and shifted to the opposite seat.

“You’re awake?”

Margaret was drenched in cold sweat, breathing unevenly.

“A dream… only a dream.”

She had been dreaming again–so often of late.

This time, she had seen Carol slipping poison into the wine, then watched as Zoe and the others fell one by one.

It was horrifying.

She pressed a hand to her chest, then suddenly noticed her gown and over–dress pooled beside her— leaving only the thin linen undergarment.

She sat up hastily. “My clothes-”

Theodore turned his face toward the shuttered window. “Your injuries were severe. It was the only way to treat them. There are still a few deeper ones–you will need to tend to those yourself.”

His tone was steady, but the tips of his ears had reddened without his notice.

Margaret glanced at her bandaged arm, then at the ointment jar beside her, and understood.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, then added, “They are only surface wounds. Once we return, I will-”

“There is scarcely a patch of skin on you untouched, and you call that ‘only surface wounds“?”

Theodore’s voice cooled sharply.

Margaret looked away. “I took a tincture for fever and swelling earlier. It’s mostly blood loss–the cuts aren’t so deep.”

“Deep or not, scars will remain.”

Theodore’s tone lowered. “Do you understand what it means for a lady to carry scars?”

11:40 am

Chapter 90 Tending Wounds

Margaret blinked. Truth be told, she had never considered it.

Fauchert

With her knowledge of herbs and the salves she kept in her chambers, no wound of hers would ever mark her permanently.

But Theodore went on, “A lady of noble birth, if marred by scars, would be looked upon with pity—or disdain–when she wed

Before he could finish. Margaret replied evenly. “Why would I marry someone who scorns a scar? The man I choose will be carefully selected. If a few marks upon my skin turn him away, then he was never worthy to begin with.”

Theodore frowned. “What I meant was… the palace keeps a salve that prevents scarring. Used consistently, it is effective.”

Margaret’s lips twitched. So she had interrupted and mistaken his meaning.

Flustered, she said, “Do not trouble yourself. I have my own preparations. I will not end up covered in

scars.”

Theodore fell silent, his gaze fixed toward the window.

After a pause, Margaret remarked, “Your Highness… the window is still closed. What is it you see?” Theodore’s eyelid gave a slight twitch. Without a word, he reached over and slid the wooden panel open.

A cool evening breeze drifted in, lifting the edge of the curtain gently between them.

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