Her Graceful War Song novel Chapter 1489

In royal matters, people seldom delve too deeply.

Especially since Connor was still young, his failure today wasn't seen as anything of real consequence. After all, he was the queen's son, destined for great honor in the future—no one would judge him too harshly over a small setback.

As everyone saw him suffering in pain, many began suggesting various remedies. Some had oils to apply on his stomach, while others offered their own suggestions of concoctions.

Even Sylvia and Grace came in to inquire after him. After all, they had brought their children along and surely carried some medicine with them. Seeing Connor's discomfort, they offered their remedies.

However, Kylie made no use of their offers. Her goal was simply to have them see Connor's current condition so they would report it to their families later.

In short, Connor's failure needed an explanation, a reason to let everyone know that he wasn't incompetent—it was just due to his physical discomfort.

After everyone had checked on Connor, they left. Marjorie lingered, offering to stay and help. However, Kylie politely insisted that she leave.

Lydia was heartbroken as she gently rubbed Connor's stomach, secretly wiping away tears with her other hand.

The water she had given him earlier contained a trace of poison. The poison powder was originally used to repel mosquitoes and venomous insects. In large doses, it could be fatal, but in small doses, it only caused pain and vomiting.

As a royal physician, Dorian should have been able to detect it. However, he was cowardly, timid, and greedy for money—he wouldn't say a word.

This was a plan Kylie came up with in a moment of desperation.

"It will pass soon," Kylie said quietly, her face a mask of complex emotions. Seeing her son suffer also caused her pain, but there was little she could do about it now.

Without a word, Lydia continued her ministrations and then went to prepare some medicine.

As the sun dipped lower, the hunting party returned, still in high spirits. Everyone had expected the Hell Monarch to have caught the most game, but to their surprise, he returned empty-handed.

It was Thomas who had the most impressive haul.

Not a single deer had been caught, and Sylvia shook her head with a wry smile. "It seems I won't be able to offer any prizes today."

"Take Prince Cecil and have him wash his hands and face. Then, find a physician and check if any of these are poisonous. If they are, make sure to give him an antidote right away."

"Of course!" the maid by Sylvia's side replied, taking the flowers with her.

As she spoke, her daughter, Phoebe, approached them. The girl pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her younger brother's face. "Look at you, you little ragamuffin! What did you manage to catch today with Dad?"

Cecil blinked up at her, wide-eyed with surprise. "You make it sound so easy, Phoebe. If even Uncle Rafael couldn't catch anything, how could I? I'm still too little."

Salvador, surrounded by his court officials, came into earshot and laughed. "Oh? So, you'll be able to catch something once you're grown up, is that it?"

Cecil smiled brightly, his eyes full of mischief. "Of course! I'll practice my archery every day, and next year when you bring me hunting again, I'll catch something too."

Salvador laughed heartily, clapping him on the back. "Good! You may not have the skills yet, but your ambition is commendable."

The court officials around them all joined in the laughter, nodding and offering praises for Cecil's spirit.