The King's Lover-Chapter 293: Futile

Morning soon came, and perhaps it was because Rose was emotionally and physically exhausted. After returning to her room, she did manage to fall asleep and didn’t wake up until the servants arrived.

They cleaned her up and served her breakfast, and then the physician returned to examine her bruises. The servants politely excused themselves, taking her dirty dishes and leaving her alone with the older man.

Rose sat upright in bed as he approached. "Good morning..." she paused, unsure how to address him since she didn’t know his name or title, but decided to leave it at that.

The physician didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted her injured hand a little too roughly. Rose winced, but other than that, she gave no other indication that she was in pain.

He brought her hand down and touched her face, poking at her bruise. Then he stepped away. "You’re healing decently. Take the herbs thrice a day, and you should be fine in no time."

"Thank you," Rose said with a smile.

He scoffed and turned around. "Never thought the day would come when I would attend to a peas—"

He stopped speaking as the door opened and Lady Deana walked in with her servants.

"Your Ladyship," he started to say and bowed.

Lady Deana didn’t even glance in his direction. Instead, she walked straight to Rose.

"Lady Deana," Rose called and instinctively moved her body to pay respects, but Lady Deana stopped her.

"No, Rose," she said and got to the bed, sitting on it. "How do you feel?"

Rose nodded. She did feel better physically—sleeping helped—but mentally, she felt battered. "Good," she weakly replied.

"Wonderful," Lady Deana replied. "I miss you playing the flute. I can’t wait for you to get better so you can play for me again."

Rose nodded and absentmindedly said, "Yes."

Lady Deana turned to the physician. "How many days more before she is completely healed?" she asked him.

"W-well," he stuttered, surprised Lady Deana was speaking to him. "A few weeks."

"Weeks?" Lady Deana yelled in horror.

"T-to be completely healed. But she shouldn’t feel as much pain in about five days—as long as she takes the herbs regularly."

Lady Deana turned to Rose. "You hear that? Don’t miss any."

"I won’t," Rose said.

Lady Deana nodded and lightly touched Rose’s hand. "It’s a pity you can’t come to the market with me today. Your company was lovely the last time," Lady Deana said and stood to her feet. "Who knows, maybe I might see something your father made."

Rose nodded. It didn’t feel like she was supposed to add anything, so she simply nodded to Lady Deana’s words and agreed until the Lady left the room.

Not long after that, the physician also left. The appearance of Lady Deana must have startled him, as he didn’t say or do anything wrong again.

Rose was stuck in her room for most of the day, and the only time she had company was when servants brought her meals. She also couldn’t leave the room after last night. However, the lack of information was more depressing than not being able to step out.

The room was getting darker. With how cold it was, the windows were all closed, but enough light seeped in through the cracks, and it was enough for her to know that dusk was fast approaching.

Rose glanced at the door. The last thing she had heard about the crown prince was what Prince Rylen had told her. That wasn’t the only problem—she clearly couldn’t leave now, and her mother was terribly sick.

Rose paced her room. There was nothing else she could do. She was tired of sleeping, and with every moment she spent here, the more her anxiety worsened.

Suddenly, a knock drew her attention to the door, Rose stopped pacing and slowly made her way to it. She opened it and was shocked at who was behind it.

"Prince Rylen," Rose said, and bent her knees. She scooted to the side to let him into her room. "W-what do I owe the honor?" she asked.

Suddenly she jerked her head upward. "Is the crown prince awake?"

Prince Rylen shook his head. "I’m afraid not," he replied.

Rose noticed Thomas was behind Prince Rylen, and Thomas didn’t meet her gaze; rather, he turned his head to the side.

"I see," Rose said with a solemn expression.

"May I come in?" Prince Rylen asked.

Rose nodded. "Yes, please," she replied. It was winter, but her palms suddenly felt sweaty.

She gently closed the door as the two of them walked into her room. Rose twisted her fingers as she wondered what this was about. They both seemed serious. Prince Rylen had tried to seem casual, but Rose could immediately tell that whatever this was about was crucial.

Prince Rylen didn’t look like he had gotten much sleep last night, but not a single hair was out of place. He was also dressed impeccably. The only odd thing about his appearance was the bags under his eyes.

Rose gestured toward the only chair in the room, but Prince Rylen didn’t even turn to see what she was pointing at. Rather, he faced her.

Rose immediately felt uncomfortable. She was a few feet away from the door, and the urge to turn and rush out was strong.

"The crown prince is still unconscious," Rylen began, speaking slowly and watching Rose’s expression as he spoke each word.

Rose nodded. He had already said that, and she doubted he had come all the way by himself just to tell her that. She kept quiet, waiting for him to say why he was here.

"Lord Paul spent most of last night trying his best, along with all the other physicians, to get the crown prince to wake up. He was able to get out as much poison as possible from the wounds. However, the crown prince is still unconscious, and Lord Paul fears the damage has been done. He did try to make the crown prince drink a few antidotes he hoped would work, but those have proven to be futile."