Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 154: Karma Served II

Chapter 154: Karma Served II

"Oh, is that so? Mind telling me more about them?" Atticus asked. His tone was casual, but Drusilla felt a chill travel down her spine.

Even though it was still sunny out, Drusilla thought that she had witnessed death in the gold of Atticus’s eyes. Everything else in the world seemed as though it was clouded in pitch black, and there was no light of salvation offered to her.

"Might they be the same rumors that spread just a short while ago?" he continued to ask pleasantly, tilting his head to the side, like a curious bird peering at an interesting worm.

Drusilla gulped, her legs trembling with fear. Somehow this was scarier than facing down her brother’s twin arrows!

This time, even Daphne couldn’t find it in herself to stand up for this useless, backstabbing sister of hers any longer. She stepped forward, hooking her arm around Atticus’s. The man’s gaze softened as he looked at his wife― clearly displaying the undeniable affection he had for her.

"It seems like it might’ve been a misunderstanding," Daphne said.

Right as Drusilla let out a sigh of relief, thinking that Daphne had, once again, felt pity for her and was about to step in and pull her out of trouble, Daphne continued speaking.

"After all, it isn’t me that has been acting unwisely among men. It seems like the improper behavior was referring to my sister herself. She was just recounting her own stories to her friends."

It took everything Cordelia had in her not to cackle right out like an evil witch and jump in glee. That would have been very undignified, not to mention it would have taken the attention off Drusilla’s pasty pale face.

Finally, the queen of Vramid had grown a backbone. The girl in Raxuvia was so meek and demure that she wondered for so long where had the feisty spitfire from Vramid gone off to. It was almost like they were two entirely different people. Thankfully, that woman was back. Cordelia would have been highly upset if she had lost Atticus to such a weakling!

Now, it was Drusilla that was masquerading as a meek and demure princess. Although it was more likely that she suddenly lost all ability to speak in the face of Atticus’s wrath, shivering in the warm light of the sun.

"I wouldn’t! I would never!" Drusilla said weakly as she stared at the ground, frantically trying to think of a solution, but her mind remained depressingly blank, and her brother was nowhere to be found. "This... are all of you cornering me? Why?"

Cordelia let out an unladylike snort. "Don’t start fires you can’t put out then. You’re the pyromancer, you should know better."

Just for that line alone, Daphne vowed to invite Cordelia to visit Vramid when she had the time. In fact, she wanted Cordelia next to her for every social event from now on!

"Princess Cordelia! How could you be so rude?" Drusilla reprimanded, refusing to see the hypocrisy in her words.

Queen Yvaine had enough.

"How were we picking on you, pray tell? I want to know." Queen Yvaine pointed out with a raised eyebrow, her tone reminiscent of an angry mother.

Before Drusilla could reply, she continued to rain a barrage of scoldings, her tolerance long gone.

"Was it not you, who started talking about your sister’s marital status when we were all having tea? Were you not the one that raised a fuss about your sister’s lost virginity, implying her to be a whore? Was it not your very own mouth that condemned your sister’s rumored dalliances with men twice her age?"

If Drusilla was pale before, she was practically ghostly now, her breath coming out in short spurts. Prince Nathaniel noted with grim amusement that he had seen livelier corpses.

Meanwhile, Atticus’s face had gone thunderous with rage. A loud clap of thunder echoed through the skies, as though the very heavens commiserate with him. His fingers flexed, longing to wrap around Drusilla’s slender neck and twist, silencing her for good.

"Is this true?" Atticus asked.

Drusilla shook her head, starting to plead for her life. "I never― I just―"

"Shut up, I wasn’t asking you," Atticus growled out, and Drusilla bit her tongue. "Princess Cordelia, is this what happened?"

"More or less," Princess Cordelia said with a wry smile. "I’m very curious why Drusilla insists that her sister is a harlot when she spotted the blue sheen on the ring even before the first event. Is it because she’s a bastard child, that she’s not schooled in basic gemstone properties?"

Drusilla let out a tiny squeak, similar to a mouse that got trodden on. Daphne felt no pity and Cordelia continued, a sharp grin on her face.

If she couldn’t kill people like Drusilla physically, destroying them in court would have to do.

"But that’s not the most puzzling thing. You would think every unwed lady would be determined to prove their innocence in light of such rumors. But Princess Drusilla has tried all means and ways to avoid putting on the ring, as though she’s a worm wriggling on her fisherman’s hook. She even called for the both of you to join us!" Cordelia exclaimed.

Prince Nathaniel sighed, shooting Drusilla a disgruntled look. He had actual problems he needed to solve! A criminal was out on the loose! But no, she had to waste his time with this useless nonsense.

"Then I propose a simple solution," Prince Nathaniel said evenly. Drusilla gazed up, her eyes wet with hopeful tears. Surely Prince Nathaniel would save her from this mess― her brother was his good friend, after all!

"Princess Drusilla, put on the ring."

Drusilla choked.

"I will not ask you again," Prince Nathaniel said, his patience wearing thin as Drusilla made no move to take the ring from her sister’s hand. "Either you put it on willingly, or I’ll get King Atticus to force it on your finger. The choice is yours."

Next to him, Atticus looked like he would be willing to force the ring on Drusilla’s finger, and then break said finger and shove it down her throat for dinner. Drusilla closed her eyes and whimpered.

"I can help," Cordelia volunteered, glee radiating off every single word. "Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle."

Daphne highly doubted Cordelia’s definition of ’gentle’ aligned with polite society. But part of her hoped that Drusilla would refuse, just so she could see what Cordelia would do.

"Put on the ring," Prince Nathaniel repeated. This time, it was no longer a request, but an order.

Drusilla’s hand slowly inched towards the ring held in Daphne’s open palm.

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