Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 21

While Prince Declan and Craig were speaking inside, Maeve had gone to gather firewood for the hearth.

By the time she returned, their conversation had just ended. Craig, who clearly did not look pleased with whatever had transpired between him and the Prince, waved her over the moment he saw her, as though calling for a dog.

Maeve stared quietly at that arrogant gesture for a moment, then, sensing Prince Declan’s gaze upon her, followed Craig without a word.

Craig led Maeve toward a small yard behind the cabin. As soon as they reached the clearing, he stopped and turned to face her.

“How much of the medicine is left? It must have run out by now, hasn’t it?”

He spoke while rummaging through the inside of his cloak.

Maeve blinked at him and replied,

“There’s a little left.”

Craig looked back at her as though displeased by the fact that some remained.

“You saved it? There’s plenty of medicine. I’ve brought more than enough ingredients, so don’t hold back. Give him as much as he wants whenever he asks for it.”

Instead of responding right away, Maeve fixed her expressionless gaze on him.

Phenycia was a flower that anyone with even the slightest knowledge of herbs in Lutea could not fail to recognize.

Could this attendant truly not know what it was?

If he truly cared for the Prince’s well-being, then upon hearing that she had been giving him less of it, he should have looked relieved, not displeased.

“By the way, I saw earlier that his fever seems to have gone down.”

“Yes. He was ill for about three days before recovering.”

Craig tugged absently at his beard with a sullen face, as though trimming it.

It was a look that expressed neither surprise nor joy at the Prince’s quick recovery.

Nor was it the face of someone who felt any appreciation for the maid who had worked tirelessly to bring down his fever.

“Fine. It must have been a mild seizure, then. But don’t get complacent. The illness will probably flare up again in a few days. It always did. Whenever he got through a mild spell, it came back within days.”

His tone carried a subtle expectation, as though he were almost looking forward to it.

“When that happens, don’t hold back on the medicine—give him all of it. Or better yet, start giving it to him every evening in advance. That’ll make things easier for you, too.”

He even spoke as though he were doing her a favor.

Maeve stared fixedly at Craig’s face.

“Do you know that the medicine isn’t actually a fever reducer?”

She asked quietly, watching him with an unreadable expression, her tone almost casual, as if testing him. Then, as though explaining for fear he might not understand, she continued calmly,

“That medicine contains a poisonous herb called Phenycia. It was once used as a remedy for those suffering from insomnia, but no one uses it anymore because of its side effects. They’re dreadful. Since it forces the body to sleep, it causes serious harm to the mind. Has the Prince been taking this medicine regularly in the castle? Has he ever complained of hallucinations or hearing voices?”

Maeve stopped mid-sentence and lifted her head.

Someone was listening to their conversation through the small window of the cabin behind Craig.

It must be the Prince.

Maeve hesitated for a moment but decided to leave it be. For the sake of convenience, she wanted the Prince to remain unharmed and alive for the time being.

In that sense, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to make him realize a few things.

“So what?”

Craig spat the words out like venom. At that moment, a pair of blue eyes from the window above his head stared down at him intently.

Maeve, distracted by that sight, failed to reply, and Craig clicked his tongue in irritation.

“Do you think I don’t know that? Ah, right. I heard you used to wander the mountains with some old hag, picking herbs. You must be thrilled to finally have something to brag about. We tried every medicine we could find to calm his worsening fits!”

“……”

“But none worked as quickly as that one. Do you understand?”

As the seizures grew worse, so too did his temper.

It had been a desperate prescription handed down by Lord Aidan, meant for attendants like Craig, who had to care for a prince whose condition only deteriorated with time.

After all, there was no hope left for his brother. The decision had been made so that at least those who remained could live with some ease.

Craig thought back on that, recalling Aidan—who, in his eyes, had been no different from a true and noble ruler.

How much better it would have been if he had served the first prince instead of the second! Back then, he had only been captivated by the strange scales on the younger prince’s neck. It had been the price of choosing the wrong side too early.