Chapter 6
Logan spoke with a stunned expression.
“What do you mean? I’m im… impo……”
Queen Beatrice quickly moved to sit beside the bed. No matter that she was called the Blood Queen, she was still a mother with a young son. In a gentle voice, Beatrice soothed him.
“No, Logan, my child. That’s not it. Absolutely not.”
Logan only blinked his wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe her. The queen quickly shot a look at the physician. The physician continued in a somewhat uncertain voice.
“I cannot say with certainty, but there should be no major difficulty in producing an heir…”
Anne pressed herself closer to the door to hear more clearly. What she had forgotten was that she still couldn’t properly gauge her current body weight.
Creak. The door opened a little further with a sound. But Anne, completely focused on the physician’s words, didn’t notice. Though heavy at heart, the physician finally said what needed to be said.
“…The left t******e had to be removed. There was no other way. I am deeply sorry.”
Logan’s eyes grew as round as saucers. He abruptly threw back the blanket to see for himself. From his lower abdomen to his thighs, the thickly wrapped bandages looked almost like a diaper. The face of the boy who had just turned seven today flushed bright red with shame.
“S, So my…”
Tears welled up in Logan’s blue eyes. He looked back and forth between his mother and the physician with desperate eyes, as if begging them to say it was a lie. But neither adult could say anything. The boy wasn’t so young that he didn’t know what that organ was for.
At that moment, a loud crash sounded a few steps away. All three of them turned toward the door at once. Anne clung helplessly to the door as it swung open on its own.
“Uwaaaaa?!”
“Who dares…!”
Beatrice’s voice rose sharply. The child who had been swaying while hanging from the doorframe toppled forward into the fully opened doorway. The first to recognize her was Logan.
“Th, th, th, that child is…!”
“Ugh…”
The girl hurriedly straightened her skirt, which had flipped over. Anne Agnes Avery. The girl who had taken 45% of his t*******s.
Anne lifted her head. Logan and Anne’s gazes met in midair. The moment he looked straight into her green eyes, Logan vividly remembered the pain he had felt in the garden. A terrible agony surged through his g***n.
“Guh!”
“Logan…!”
“Your Highness…!”
With the queen and physician’s cries ringing out, he lost consciousness once again.
I did it again. Amid the chaos she had caused, Anne thought,
Could I possibly, just maybe, get a shot at a third life…?
* * *
The day after the party. The Duke and Duchess of Avery had an audience with the queen in the drawing room. Even after the tea had gone completely cold, only silence filled the table. The first to break it was Russell Avery.
“I will take full responsibility. I will surrender my title and lands… and if that is not enough, you may take my head. That will not be enough to ease Your Majesty’s anger, but please… please spare Anne Agnes…”
Even the duke couldn’t bring himself to say the word forgiveness. They had injured the queen’s eldest son, the prince who would one day become king. And not an arm or a leg, but a far more important part. At this point, it would not be unjust even if it were treated as treason.
To give up his title and lands meant losing his status and wealth and becoming a common farmer. Yet Catherine Avery, who had lived her entire life as a noblewoman, agreed with her husband without the slightest hesitation.
“It was our fault for bringing a sick child here. If that is still not enough, I will offer my life as well.”
The couple’s resolve was firm. They had already sworn to God. If only their daughter were spared, they would ask for nothing more. They felt sorry for their other grown children, but if this trial was the price for their youngest daughter’s life, they had decided to accept it willingly.
Yet the queen, who should have been grieving over her son’s injury, made an exaggerated gesture of surprise.
“Oh, don’t say such frightening things, Catherine.”
At the familiar way she was addressed, Catherine could only blink, unable to grasp her intent. There had once been a time when Queen Beatrice and Duchess Avery had been something like friends.
But at that time, Beatrice had been a princess fourth in line to the throne, and Catherine had been an unmarried noble lady. They had not shared any special friendship, and after their circumstances changed, they had maintained a proper distance.
Above all, Queen Beatrice was not someone who could be taken lightly. The process by which she, once merely a distant princess with little claim to power, had seized the throne was still talked about to this day.
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