The Mind-Reading Mate: Why Is the Lycan King So Obsessed With Me?!-Chapter 83: The Queen Needs a Nap, Not a Doctor

Primrose walked toward her chamber in a daze. She had to lean against the palace walls just to stay upright because her head throbbed painfully after staring at endless rows of numbers for what felt like forever.

"Your Majesty, are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?" Solene gently wrapped her arm around Primrose’s, helping her walk.

[What in the world did that awful advisor do to Her Majesty?]

[He didn’t need to be that harsh!]

[If I see him later, I swear I’ll make him eat something so spicy, he’ll be stuck in the bathroom for a whole day!]

Oh? So the royal advisor couldn’t handle spicy food? Primrose made a mental note of that.

"I’m fine," she mumbled, waving her hand weakly. "I just need to sleep. Please tell His Majesty I’m skipping dinner tonight. I’m going to bed early."

Solene looked even more worried. "Are you sure, Your Majesty? Your last meal was at noon, so you will get hungry later. I could ask the maids to bring something light to your room—"

Primrose shook her head before she could even finish. "I really don’t think I can eat right now."

Those numbers had made her feel so sick and full, it was as if her brain had been force-fed math until it wanted to throw up.

She didn’t even have the energy to lift a spoon, let alone actually eat.

"I’ll eat tomorrow morning," she muttered.

When they reached the door to her chamber, Primrose turned to Solene and gently stopped her from entering. "You can go now. I just want to sleep."

Solene tilted her head, hesitant. "But, Your Majesty ... shouldn’t you change into your night—"

Before she could finish, Primrose had already closed the door with a loud thud.

She was done.

With people.

With numbers.

With everything.

She just needed sleep. That was all. A little rest to recharge her energy!

Primrose quickly slipped off her shoes and, without even thinking about changing out of her dress, climbed straight onto the bed. She let her body sink deep into the soft mattress and didn’t care one bit about the tight corset still hugging her ribs.

’Maybe I’ll nap for an hour,’ she thought. ’Then I’ll ask the maids to help me change so I can sleep properly later.’

At least ... that was the plan.

She had only closed her eyes for what felt like ten minutes when the door suddenly burst open with a loud bang.

"Wife! Lady Solene told me you’re sick!"

Edmund’s face darkened as he looked at Primrose, who was lying face-down on the bed, still in her day dress, one leg dangling off the edge because she was too lazy to move properly.

To him, she looked like someone on the verge of death.

[Is my wife dying from overwork?!]

Dying from overwork?! Please.

Primrose hadn’t even touched real royal duties yet because Sevrin still thought she was far from ready for the real stuff.

If she really ended up dying just from handling a few practice reports, then honestly, she deserved a slap from a demon in hell when she got there.

Primrose didn’t say a word, not because she couldn’t, but because she was just too tired to deal with Edmund’s overthinking. So, of course, he panicked.

Suddenly, he reached for her and sat her upright on the bed.

Primrose gasped, startled. She nearly slapped him out of instinct because he had disturbed her sacred nap.

However, before she could even complain, he placed his hand gently on her forehead, checking her temperature. His brows furrowed.

Her skin was a little warm.

No, it wasn’t a fever. She was just overheated from thinking too hard today.

That’s what happened when someone who was used to sleeping all day had to deal with endless rows of numbers for the first time.

[I let her meet the royal advisor once and she’s already burning up like this?!]

[That bastard ... I know he enjoys yelling at incompetent people like me, but my wife is not one of them! How dare he scold her until she gets sick?!]

Was she really competent? Or was that just his imagination? Because based on today’s results ... it could go either way.

"I’m fine, Your Majesty," Primrose said calmly, reaching up to lower his hand from her forehead. She clenched her jaw slightly, but the irritation on her face was hard to hide.

Luckily, Edmund was too dumb to notice her irritation.

[Why is my wife scrunching her forehead like that? Does her head feel like it’s about to explode?!]

"You’re not allowed to work anymore!" he declared dramatically, his voice echoing through the bedroom.

If Primrose didn’t know him better, she might’ve thought he was being one of those husbands who believed their wives couldn’t do anything right.

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head just a little.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding headache that had only gotten worse thanks to the way he was now screaming inside her head.

[Her face looks even paler than before! Why?! How did it get worse?!]

’With all due respect, husband ... but you’re the reason I feel even worse,’ Primrose thought, her lips twitching with annoyance.

"You’re not suited for work," Edmund said seriously. "It’s better if you just ... don’t do anything."

For a moment, he actually sounded like one of those controlling husbands, the kind who thought their wives weren’t capable of handling real responsibilities. Like he couldn’t stand the idea of her working beside him.

[No—why did I say it like that?!]

[She’s totally going to take that the wrong way!]

At least he realized how bad it sounded.

"That’s—That’s not what I meant!" Edmund stammered, clearly panicking as he tried to find the right words. But his mind was spinning too fast to think clearly.

Primrose saw the perfect chance.

"I understand what you’re trying to say, Your Majesty," she said sweetly, her tone innocent, but her eyes were already plotting mischief.

Just a little teasing wouldn’t hurt, right?

"You must think I’m not good enough for the job, right?" she added, putting on a dramatic voice.

Then she covered her face with both hands and slumped forward like a heroine in a tragic play. "I’m such a failure!"

"No! You’re not!" Edmund shouted, immediately grabbing her shoulders in a panic.

His mind finally clicked into place, and the right words came tumbling out. "That’s not what I meant ... I just don’t want you to get sick!"

Primrose peeked through her fingers, fighting the urge to grin.

She already knew that Edmund could express himself well when he wasn’t overwhelmed, but now she also knew: with just a little pressure, he could speak from the heart too.

Whatever the method was, it didn’t matter. As long as it worked in her favor, Primrose was happy to go with it.

"I truly had no intention of belittling you, my wife," Edmund said softly, his hands moving to gently hold hers. His icy blue eyes had softened, turning warm as they met her glassy gaze. "But ... it’s really hard for me to see you getting sick because you’re working too hard."

Primrose stared at him, resisting the urge to sigh. She hadn’t even started real work yet. "Too much" wasn’t even on the table.

"But it’s something I have to do, husband," she replied, her voice calm but firm. "If I don’t work hard as the Queen, people will look down on me. And eventually ... that’ll affect you too."

Then she looked away, her voice lowering just a bit. "Besides ... I’m starting to feel a little better now. Because of you."

She was lying.

Edmund hadn’t made her feel better, he’d made her more stressed, if anything. But still, he meant well.

"I ... I just worry about you," Edmund said after a short pause. "That’s why I called a human doctor for you."

Primrose froze for a moment. "Who?"

"Dr. Silas," Edmund answered. "I heard you’d requested him as your private physician. So I asked the guards to summon him right away."

"Why would you call him?!" Primrose suddenly shouted, startling Edmund.

He instinctively leaned back, blinking in surprise. He clearly didn’t expect his wife to yell at him like that.

[Did... did I do something wrong? She’s not feeling well. Isn’t it normal for me to call a doctor for her?]

Primrose let out a long sigh and rubbed her temples, her headache getting worse. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout."

She was just ... stressed.

She had just barely escaped the demon in the hellish library and now she had to deal with another demon, this one disguised as an innocent lamb

She had prepared herself to face Dr. Silas eventually... but not tonight.

"I was just thinking ..." Primrose gently tugged on the hem of Edmund’s shirt and spoke in a voice that was too soft to ignore. "Maybe ... your saliva could help cure my headache?"

His saliva had healed scars on her body before and restored her stamina every time they made love. Surely it could help with something small like a headache too ... right?

"I ... I can," Edmund replied, clearly hesitant.

[I’ve been so panicked, I didn’t even think of that. But I never expected her to be the one to remind me.]

[Wait ... does she want me to kiss her?]

"Should ... should we kiss now?" he asked, leaning in toward her flushed face.