The Mad Princess and the Dying Prince novel Chapter 100

The swollen bruise on her forehead had entirely vanished, leaving behind only a faint mark that was clearly healing.

She was dressed in new clothes—a perfectly tailored, elegant gown that stood in stark contrast to the miserable rags she had worn on the day she returned.

Alistair was forced to admit that she possessed a striking, ethereal beauty!

Once she fully recovered her strength, there was no telling just how stunning she would become.

Could it be that Prince Jareth was simply a shallow man who had fallen for Lucia's pretty face?

"Lord Beaumont, did you come here to gift me something?" Lucia arched an eyebrow, assessing him with an unreadable gaze.

She noticed that a faint trace of magical aura clung to Alistair's form.

He had originally been plagued by a curse of misfortune, but now, a distinct magical energy over his chest was slowly purging that dark shadow.

"I just gave you three hundred silver marks the day before yesterday!" Alistair seethed, infuriated by her greed. "A young lady like yourself has no business to attend to. What do you even need that much coin for?"

"What does it matter to you? What, are you trying to beg for it back?" Lucia stepped closer, her gaze drifting to a sliver of dark cord exposed at his neckline.

It seemed he was wearing some sort of amulet.

Alistair took a deep breath, forcing a change in subject.

"Everyone in the capital now knows that you have been betrothed to Prince Jareth by royal decree. From now on, whenever you step out these doors, people will look at you as his future bride. Therefore, you must always remember that you represent the honor of both Prince Jareth and House Beaumont. You must speak carefully, act with dignity, display proper manners..."

Before he could finish his lecture, Lucia let out a cold laugh.

"How do you even have the nerve to mention House Beaumont in the same breath as Prince Jareth? How can the honor of your petty house possibly compare to a royal prince's?"

"Do not forget that you are a Beaumont as well!"

"Oh..." Lucia dragged out the syllable. "My Beaumont might not necessarily be your Beaumont, my lord."

Alistair's heart gave a violent lurch.

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