The Mad Princess and the Dying Prince novel Chapter 34

This was Beaumont Manor, after all.

And truthfully, they still didn't know if the prince intended for them to stay with Lucia permanently, or if they were only here to care for her until she recovered before returning to the Prince's Estate.

"Doesn't mugwort have a stench? Use your nose. Follow the smell," the maid said, shoving past her. "Move out of the way! Our lady and the eldest miss are waiting for their restorative broth. Don't delay us!"

The servants had heard that the eldest miss had been slapped by the second daughter and had cried for hours, unable to stomach a single bite of food. Oh, the poor thing.

Celia ground her teeth together.

She spun on her heel and strode into the gardens, quickly locating a bush of sage and stripping several leaves from its branches. As for the mugwort, she would just have to hunt for it herself!

Going by her experience, such herbs were usually stored in the supply shed beside the kitchens.

Once she found the mugwort, she hurried back to Sunstone Pavilion, steeped the herbs in water, and scrubbed her hand. Unbelievably, the first wash didn't completely remove the dark ash.

She had to scour her skin three separate times before her hand was finally spotless.

A wave of dread washed over Celia. Lucia had specifically said three times!

She had tried just water before the herbs, and the filth hadn't budged.

By the time Lucia emerged from her bath, Celia stepped in to help towel her hair dry. Her emotions were in absolute turmoil, and several times she opened her mouth to speak, entirely unsure of what to ask.

As she gently dried the strands, she noticed that the wound on the back of Lucia's head had healed significantly.

Initially, they had felt her injury was too severe for her hair to be washed, but Lucia had been adamant. Celeste had been forced to gently, painstakingly wash the blood from her scalp.

Elsewhere, Prince Jareth placed the Memorial Tablet of Caius Valerius upon the altar inside the family chapel.

He dropped to one knee, bowing deeply. Gazing at the tablet, his thoughts drifted to Lucia, and he couldn't help but murmur softly.

"Father, that young lady you saw earlier is named Lucia Beaumont. I am going to marry her. You approve, don't you?"

The moment the words left his lips, the memorial tablet fell flat onto the stone altar with a sharp smack.

Behind him, amid the soft glow of candlelight, the memorial tablet of the old king stood in stubborn silence.

Over at the Marquisate of Greenfield.

The Heir Brightwood, Gaston, had barely regained consciousness before he began to shriek at the top of his lungs.

"That bitch! She dared to whip me! Ahh, my back! It burns!"

The Marquis of Greenfield and his wife, Joanna, stood at his bedside, watching him with pained expressions.

"My dear Gaston, lie still. We just applied the salve, you must not rub it off."

"Drag that little whore back here! I'm going to give her a hundred lashes! I'll strip her bare and whip her to the bone!"

The more Gaston shouted, the more his body ached, causing him to howl in agony, his heart seething with venomous hatred for Lucia Beaumont.

"And Prince Jareth!" He wrenched his neck to look at his father. "Father, you must go to the palace and seek an audience with the queen mother. Tell her how Jareth humiliated me! Demand she exact justice on my behalf!"