The Mad Princess and the Dying Prince novel Chapter 102

Her betrothed was Prince Jareth, a man Alistair wouldn't dare cross. It was perfectly convenient.

In this one matter, she actually owed the prince her thanks.

"You rebellious wretch!" Alistair seethed.

"Tomorrow you are to attend Princess Corinna's scripture-copying gathering. If you make a fool of yourself there and drag Prince Jareth's name through the mud, we will see if he shows you any mercy! Do not think a royal decree makes this marriage absolute. I am telling you now, if you ruin your reputation, the king can easily break the betrothal!"

Alistair remembered the brutal kick Jareth had delivered earlier that day, and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

If Lucia was mocked by the nobility tomorrow, would the prince take out his fury on him?

"I will hire someone to teach you proper court etiquette, and you had better learn! The Royal Capital is crawling with lords and officials who outrank me. If you continue this arrogant behavior and offend the wrong person, I will not save you!"

Having said his piece, he refused to look at her face a moment longer. He turned on his heel and stormed away.

But just as he reached the courtyard gate, his foot caught on an invisible snag. He pitched forward, crashing heavily onto the stone path. His chin took the brunt of the impact, sending a numb, throbbing ache through his teeth.

"Ouch. That looked painful," Lucia remarked, inhaling sharply with mock sympathy.

Alistair scrambled to his feet, enraged and in agony, but swallowed his groan of pain and hobbled away.

"A touch of bad luck always does the trick," Lucia murmured, clicking her tongue. "It is a pity whatever charm he wears absorbed the worst of it. Otherwise, he would have suffered far more than a simple fall."

Bonnie looked at her curiously. "My lady, did you say Lord Beaumont was struck by bad luck?"

"Indeed."

"But what sort of magic could ward off his misfortune?"

"Well, a Talisman of Calamity Warding, a Talisman of Warding, or a Talisman of Protection would all do the job."

Celia frowned. "But we haven't heard of anyone in the Royal Capital who crafts such mystical marks."

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