"Your Highness, the doctor has arrived!" the guard announced.
The maids and personnel who stayed in a carriage outside also showed up, rushing behind the Crown Prince's guards.
They all looked nervous and genuinely worried for her well-being. The three "boy toys" others liked to mock so much, were the first to jump to her aid.
Their pretty faces and slim figures were deceiving. One could even mistake them for young women. One seemed to be her personal chef, another her personal physician and the last one was her personal assistant.
The "physician" was the one to check on her, and gave a report to the Crown Prince and Lucian, "Lady Celine has a high fever, and her body is in a weakened state. She needs rest and medicine. Excuse our impudence, Your Highness, but we have to depart."
"Wait," the Crown Prince stopped him, gesturing for the palace doctor to examine her too.
The doctor checked her temperature, her pulse, and the color of her tongue and nails (ignoring the blood under them), and then stood up. "Your highness, Lady Rochefort's fever is indeed very high, and the cause of her unconsciousness is dehydration and stress," he said.
"She woke up for a while just a few moments ago," the Crown Prince said, "Are you sure it's not just another act?"
"Her fever must have dropped when she woke up, but now it's back to its peak. I'm afraid that she won't wake up again any time soon. Your highness, Lady Rochefort really is unwell," the doctor said.
"Very well," the Crown Prince said, his expression turning grave, "Take her away."
They bowed and lifted her carefully onto a stretcher, leaving Lucian and the Crown Prince to their own business.
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"Your ex-fiance really seems to adore you, and I can see she has your best interests at heart," Lucian commented, returning the thick book to the Crown Prince, "Will she be alright?"
"You are too naive if you think that was anything other than a performance to gain sympathy from others," The Crown Prince's mood soured further, "She always made me visit her whenever she got sick. To abandon all my work and responsibilities and stay by her side."
"Your reaction made it seem like she used to throw herself at you quite often," Lucian said, trying to lighten the mood a little.
"Are you mocking me?" the Crown Prince chuckled. Not many people would dare to jest in front of him. It was quite amusing, really. "There's nothing more annoying than a woman in a gaudy dress, drenched in heavy perfume and caked in thick makeup, throwing herself at you. Other women are bad enough, but she takes it to another level entirely."
"Still," Lucian replied, chuckling softly, "you can't really blame them for being drawn to you. It's not hard to see why someone might go to great lengths to catch your attention."
The Crown Prince scoffed, his expression turning slightly better, "What's worse is her father blaming me for her health problems. Apparently, it's my fault his precious daughter acts like that. It's because she doesn't feel loved enough. He dotes on her beyond belief and spoils her rotten."
Doted and spoiled rotten? Lucian remembered the strict and harsh training she was forced through. The countless hours of lessons in politics, the hours she spent in front of the mirror, trying to perfect her appearance.
And on top of that, there was the duchy she had to manage under her father's name. She had to learn how to deal with finances, agriculture and security.
It made Lucian see the nobility in a different light.
The three years at the Academy was the freest time she had ever gotten in her life, and this guy here was accusing her father of having him pamper and dote on his daughter?
If Lucian's daughter was even half as hardworking and dedicated to her duchy as Celine, he would've shoved her into a room full of gold and treasure. That little girl would have probably demanded it herself considering the womb she would have grown in for nine months.
Lucian shook away his old dreams that suddenly resurfaced out of nowhere. It wasn't his place to comment. He had his own agenda, and he wasn't here to defend Celine's honor.
"If there is something I can do to help, just say the word, Your Highness," Lucian said, "It looks like she will pose a problem if she's not dealt with accordingly," he continued, trying to sound as friendly as possible, "Showing affection toward another won't make a stubborn woman like her change her ways. I believe the best course of action would be to marry her off to someone else."
He continued, his lips curving upward, "But who is willing to have such a troublesome woman as their wife? And who has the power to force her father's hand in this?"
"How about you?" The Crown Prince suggested, throwing a joke back at him.
"Me?" Lucian shook his head and laughed, his deep voice carrying quiet humor. His tall, well-built frame leaned back slightly, the lamplight accentuating the sharp angles of his face, "Not even in my wildest dreams would I marry a woman like that. Not even if you offered me the throne. No offence."
"None taken," the Crown Prince chuckled. Standing just as tall as Lucian but with a more graceful, polished, almost princely air, he added, "I wouldn't wish her on my worst enemy, much less my ally."