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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“I know it sounds insane, but I must speak with the queen about it,” he whispered low.

“Can you save him?”

“I do not know, but we ought to try, oughtn’t we?”

I looked him over for a moment before nodding. “Follow me.”

I was not aware what his plan was, but if he needed the queen, then I’d get him to the queen. Though I did not entirely know how. It was so late in the evening that I was sure almost everyone had gone to bed. Nevertheless, I had to try. Out in the hall, I found a footman resting against the wall, asleep. He was the only one there. I looked to Sir Darrington, who stepped forward and tapped the man on the shoulder. Startled, he jumped up and looked at me, bowing his head.

“My lady, forgive me. Her Majesty told me to wait here for news.”

“Has she gone to bed?”

“I am not sure, my lady. I do not believe so, as I saw Lady Crane call for tea to be brought into the blue room a few moments ago.”

“Thank you,” I said, turning to go myself.

“Is there any news, my lady?” he called after me, but I did not answer. Instead, I looked to Sir Darrington, who was staring at the décor, his hands behind his back as he followed me one step behind.

“I trust that whatever you have to say to her, Sir Darrington, will be of a pressing nature, especially considering the fact that I am no longer in the room with Wilhelm.”

“Yes, my lady. I assure you, I do not mean to waste your time or hers. I truly seek to help him.”

I believed him, because of Verity. I believed him because I had nothing else to believe in. So when we reached the doors and I saw two footmen standing outside of them, I was grateful: that meant she was still up. I stepped toward the doors, but the footmen stepped in my way.

“Her Majesty asks not to be disturbed,” one said.

“I need to speak to her.”

They continued to block my way, shaking their heads.

“Fine.” I stepped back and inhaled through my nose before yelling at the top of my lungs, “Your Majesty, may I please have an audience?”

Silence.

“Your Majesty, the matter is pressing!”

Lady Crane opened the door. The queen was sitting beside the fireplace, dressed in a large blue dressing gown, her hair down. Several furry dogs slept all around her.

“Is he dead?” she asked me calmly.

“No, Your Majesty,” I said quickly.

“Then whatever could be so pressing?”

“One of his doctors wishes to speak with you,” I said, moving aside so Sir Darrington could step forward.

“Who are you?” the queen asked.

“Sir Theodore Darrington, Your Majesty.” He bowed to her.

“He was the one who first treated Prince Wilhelm in the park and brought him here, with the help of a few other gentlemen,” Lady Crane informed her as she offered the queen tea. “He is the husband of Lady Verity, formerly Eagleman.”

“Ah, right. What is it, Sir Darrington?” the queen asked.

“I wish your permission for a course of treatment—”

“Dr. Alderton is there, is he not? Why have you not spoken to him on the matter?” she questioned.

“He disagrees with the treatment, ma’am.”

“What is this treatment?”

“To give him blood.”

She nearly dropped her teacup. She stared at him with the same look I was sure I had worn just moments earlier.

“Did you say blood? Give him? Or do you mean you seek to bleed him?”

“Your Majesty, in 1665 an English physician by the name of Richard Lower successfully managed to transfer blood from a healthy dog to a wounded one, thus saving its life. Another test was done at the Royal Society, which confirmed the sharing of blood from one dog to another had saved its life.”

The queen handed her cup back to Lady Crane and picked up the nearest dog at her feet. “Sir Darrington, does this creature resemble my nephew?”

“No, Your Majesty—”

“Then why would you tell me such a horrifying story?”

“Because, Your Majesty, there is little that can be done for Prince Wilhelm at this point. He will die by daybreak if no one can think of something.”

I inhaled sharply, my chest feeling tight.

“Do you know why people dislike doctors, Lady Hathor?”

“They do not want anyone to think them sick?” I answered.

“People do not like those who understand things they do not,” she replied, her eyes drifting to Sir Darrington. “Doctors do not easily explain their methods, because they barely understand them either. I am sure that is why the Royal Society has not made this research known. They cannot explain it, because it is awful. Imagine the chaos that would be unleashed on the world if people hear or believe they can heal themselves by taking another person’s blood. Such a horrid thing should never be accepted into society. Such a monstrous act should never be done, certainly not by any royal, ever.”


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