Chapter 242: What the Blood Revealed
Chapter 241: What the Blood Revealed
The maids hesitated.
Diana looked at Sally. Sally looked at Theresa. Theresa looked at the floor. Their mouths opened and closed, but no words emerged—only the empty silence of people who had been caught unprepared and were scrambling for something to say.
Kathryn did not wait.
Her nose twitched. The scent of blood was faint, but it was there—sharp and unmistakable to a wolf’s senses. She followed it to the foot of the bed and pulled the blanket back without ceremony.
Sally gasped.
"What are you—"
Kathryn ignored her.
Her eyes had found the bandages wrapped around Lyria’s feet. They were clean on the outside, but the scent was stronger here, and she could see the faint discolouration seeping through the fabric—a pale yellow stain that spoke of infection already beginning to take hold.
She unwrapped them quickly, her fingers deft and sure, and when the last layer of bandage fell away, she stared in shock.
The room was quiet.
"The Princess was injured on the soles of her feet," Kathryn announced, her husky voice carrying through the chamber. "The wounds are deep. They appear to have been caused by stepping onto sharp objects."
She paused.
The wounds were not fresh. They had been cleaned, after a fashion, but not properly. Small fragments still glinted in the gashes, too fine to have been seen without close examination. The skin around the cuts was red and swollen, hot to the touch, and the yellowish discharge seeping from the edges spoke of infection setting in.
"The injuries were not treated correctly," she continued. "They are on their way to becoming seriously infected. If left much longer, the infection would have spread to the bone."
She reached for her satchel and began removing supplies—a small bottle of antiseptic, a pair of fine tweezers, clean cloths, and a jar of salve that smelled of herbs.
The Queen turned to the maids.
Her voice was soft, which made it worse.
"What happened?" she asked.
Diana opened her mouth, but no words came.
The Queen’s eyes narrowed.
"Why did you not ensure that the Princess—whom you are meant to care for—received proper treatment for her injuries?"
The maids exchanged glances again.
The Queen’s voice dropped.
"Did I stutter?"
They bowed immediately, their heads lowering in unison.
Sally spoke first.
"Your Majesty, the Princess tried to hide it. She stepped on something by accident. It was not—"
Theresa nodded quickly.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Her Highness prefers moving about barefoot. She stepped on something."
Kathryn listened as she worked.
Both feet were injured. Deeply. And though some of the porcelain fragments had been removed, others remained lodged in the flesh—small, sharp, glinting in the light. She began picking them out with the tweezers, her movements precise and careful.
"Was it broken porcelain?" she asked the maids.
Theresa hesitated.
Then she nodded.
"Yes," she said. "A teacup. It fell and broke, and Her Highness accidentally stepped on the pieces."
Diana added quickly, "The Princess was drinking tea. The cup slipped from her hands. She moved to catch it and stepped on the shards."
Baron Redwick, still facing the wall, sighed.
It was a quiet sound, barely more than an exhale, but it carried the weight of someone who had heard enough lies to recognise another.
He did not speak.
Duke Valenridge said nothing either.
He stood with his back to the room, his posture relaxed, his hands clasped loosely behind him. He did not turn. He did not react.
And somehow, that silence was more unsettling to the Queen than anything he might have said.
The Queen glanced at him. Then she turned to the maids.
"Perhaps," she said, her voice soft and cold, "the next time you attempt to harm a member of the royal family, you might think of better lies."
The maids went pale.
"Your punishment for neglecting to care for the Princess will be decided once this matter is concluded," the Queen added.
The maids turned to each other, their eyes wide. They had not expected this turn of events at all.
Kathryn did not look up.
She cleaned the wounds with antiseptic, her hands steady, as the scent of the solution spread through the air.
"I shall need warm water," she said. "And clean cloths."
The maids moved to obey.
When they returned, Kathryn instructed them to assist her as she worked. Together, they cleaned the remaining debris from the wounds, applied a fresh salve, and wrapped the feet in clean bandages.
"The Princess will require a stronger mixture to heal properly," Kathryn muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. "I shall have to prepare it once I return to the infirmary."
She finished with the feet and then frowned.
"There may be other injuries," she said. "I must examine the rest of her."
She did not ask the maids because she suspected they would not tell her the truth of the matter.
She looked at them.
"Assist me in turning her."
The maids hesitated once more, and the Queen spoke up, her voice cold.
"Are you hard of hearing?"
Immediately, they moved.
Together, they turned Lyria onto her side, and Kathryn pulled down the back of her shift.
The scars were worse than she had expected.
Some were old, faded to thin white lines that crossed her shoulders. Others were newer—pink and raised, still healing, still tender. They did not follow any pattern she could recognise, and they had not been made by accident. She was certain of that. These were not the marks of a clumsy servant or an unfortunate fall.
These were the marks of a whip, but she said nothing.
She had learned long ago that some truths were dangerous to speak aloud, and that the palace was not a place where honesty was always rewarded.
She reached for her salve and began applying it to the wounds, her hands gentle, her face impassive.
"The Princess has more scars on her back," she announced, her voice neutral. "They are healing, but slowly. I shall administer treatment now."
The chamber filled with the scent of herbs. Kathryn worked in silence, her fingers moving with practised efficiency, until every scar she could reach had been covered.
When she finished, she turned and bowed to the Queen.
"I did not bring enough supplies," she said. "Now that I understand the Princess’s condition, I shall prepare a stronger mixture for more effective treatment."
