The Mad Princess and the Dying Prince novel Chapter 15

Jareth laughed softly.

"It seems you are quite taken with her. You've been here only a moment, yet you've praised her several times already."

"I only speak the truth," Finch replied.

Lucia was, indeed, brilliant.

"You needn't worry on that front. I have already dispatched two maids to her. Matron Cecily trained them personally; they will be extremely meticulous."

"Good, good."

Finch sighed in genuine relief, but then a thought struck him. He eyed Jareth, his gaze calculating and sharp.

"How exactly did you meet Lady Lucia, Your Highness? You are treating her with highly unusual favor."

"She told me she could save my life."

That single sentence instantly shattered all of Finch's gossipy thoughts.

His face turned completely solemn.

"How could Lady Lucia possibly know of your condition?" As he spoke, Finch couldn't help but glance at Jareth's chest.

Years ago, Finch had seen the bizarre affliction festering over Jareth's heart, but he had been utterly powerless to cure it. That was precisely why Jareth had spent years roaming the realm, desperately searching for master healers and practitioners of ancient mysticism.

"She claimed she could simply see it. Do you believe her?"

Thinking of the casual way Lucia had just saved him, Finch's expression grew even heavier.

"I have no choice but to believe."

He paused, unable to hold back his lingering doubts. "But it is truly astounding. She is only sixteen, raised in the remote countryside. Where on earth did she learn such powerful mysticism?"

"That is exactly what I intend to find out."

Jareth gently rubbed the black iron ring on his left middle finger.

"Lady Lucia does not seem to have any malicious intent," Finch offered.

Jareth couldn't help but laugh, shooting Finch a sidelong glance. "You are far too old to be saying such incredibly naive things."

"Your Grace, Prince Jareth has returned to the Royal Capital!"

The queen mother bolted upright.

"What did you say? Why has he returned so suddenly?"

"No one received advance word. He is already at the Prince's Estate and will likely ride for the palace soon," the servant reported.

The queen mother gritted her teeth. "The old king must have summoned him. We had men watching his every move—how did a raven get past them?"

The old king was gravely ill, having been bedridden for two months. Ambitious figures throughout the realm were secretly waiting for news of his demise. Yet Jareth had returned right at this critical moment.

"What does it matter if he returns? Even that old fool Finch cannot cure the old king. Jareth's return is entirely useless!"

Regaining her composure, the queen mother elegantly sat back down with a flick of her sleeve. "However, it does remind me. Hasn't Seraphina Marquis adored Jareth since childhood? Go, summon her to the palace. Let us see if the dear girl still wishes to become his princess."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Seraphina Marquis, the sixteen-year-old daughter of Lord Marquis, was a vision of grace and beauty. She was well of age to negotiate a marriage, yet she had spent her life waiting solely for Prince Jareth—a fact known to nearly every noble house in the realm.