Hathor and the Prince (The Dubells #3) Read Online J.J. McAvoy

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction Tags Authors: Series: The Dubells Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
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“Sir, be careful what you accuse me of in these halls,” I said sternly, nodding toward the maids in the hallway. He paused, just then noticing them, too. “Prince Wilhelm was greatly wounded, and due to your skill, he is not yet dead. You should be pleased.”

“And if he does die?”

“Who could blame you or me? For wasn’t that always the possibility—no, the assumption? If he dies, he was always going to die. If he lives—”

“You shall wish to be made a lord?” he huffed. “I’ve heard of you, Sir Darrington, and how you’ve used your connections and slight knowledge to enrich yourself. I assure you that I will not stand by and watch this.”

“If Prince Wilhelm lives, would you accuse me of saving him with vile means, and in so doing make an enemy of him—and the queen, who occupied your time last night, did she not?”

At the mention of the queen, his eyes widened.

“Any miracle that happens here, sir, is due to your skill and God’s mercy. Nothing else happened, for all of our sakes.”

He and I shared a long look before he exhaled and shook his head. “His condition is not worsening, and so I will continue to watch him. I suggest you return to wherever it is you came from.”

“Very well. Let me gather my things,” I said, turning back to reenter the room.

“Lady Hathor, you must rest,” Lady Crane said to her, but still Hathor had not moved from his side.

“I am fine.”

“You are not fine—”

“Sir Darrington, where are you going?” Her tired eyes snapped to me, noticing me gathering my things. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes—”

“You cannot!” She jumped up now, rushing to me. “What if he still needs—”

“I’ve done everything in my power for him, Lady Hathor. The doctors here are much more knowledgeable than I.”

“I doubt that,” she frowned. “So I wish you to stay.”

“Lady Hathor.”

“Please.” Her strong voice nearly cracked, her eyes begging me. In her hands was the same towel she’d been using all night, her hands pale and ash-colored from the continuous contact with water.

“All right. I shall return to your home and inform my wife, as well as your family, of the conditions here before I return. But only if you promise me you will rest.”

“I am fine.”

“You are not, and I cannot have two patients to worry about in this room. I won’t return otherwise.”

“Fine. I shall rest for an hour.”

“Very well.” I smiled, knowing she would most likely sleep beyond that—her body would see to it.

“He’s not dead,” she whispered, smiling to herself. “You all said he would not make it through the night, but he did, and he’s going to make it through this morning. He’s getting better.”

Such hope…I could not break it.

The things we did and believed because of love, only heaven could understand.

27

Hathor

My one-hour nap ended up being nine hours. I had not realized how exhausted I was. But the moment I woke, I readied myself as quickly as I could to go see Wilhelm. Just as I reached his doors, a footman approached, telling me the queen wished to see me. And to be honest, even though I was in the palace, I had forgotten all about her. That was very foolish of me. I could stay only by her grace, and did not wish to be ungrateful. Everyone in the palace treated me as though I were part of the royal family already. The food given to me and the freedom I was allowed were all because of her. So before the footmen opened the door I took a deep breath to calm myself. I had not had a moment of calm since this whole ordeal began.

“Your Majesty, the Lady Hathor,” the footman announced.

I stepped in, and curtsied before her. “Your Grace.”

“Leave us,” she ordered sharply. When I looked up, I saw she stood at the window, dressed in several layers of dark burgundy silk, a diamond necklace and crown upon her head. She held a glass of wine in one hand and a letter in the other.

The footman quickly made his escape.

“Come closer,” she ordered. I did so, still keeping a good distance from her, which she apparently disapproved of. She said again, in a strained voice, “Closer, right beside me.”

I stepped beside her, not sure I’d ever stood so close to her. I could see every line and wrinkle, every divot of her skin under the powder she wore. Her face was so old; I knew she was old, but I had never thought of it until now.

“I did not ask you to inspect me, Lady Hathor, but to follow my gaze out the window.”

“Forgive me,” I said gently, and turned to look out the window with her.

“What do you see?”

I stared out into the distance, only to see the front gates. “The gates, ma’am.”


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