Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 159: The Shortcut IV

Chapter 159: The Shortcut IV

Alistair frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Eugene merely smiled. However, what was creepy was that he did so in the direction Atticus, Daphne, and Nathaniel were hiding in. His line of sight directly met with Daphne’s, causing her to break out in cold sweat.

"Hmm... I wonder what," he mused. Whistling, Eugene pulled out a dagger, swinging it around his index finger by the small hoop attached to the handle. "How many sisters do you have that are dubbed useless, Prince Alistair? Surely you don’t come from a family of failures."

"You can’t possibly be referring to Daphne," Alistair said, scoffing. He folded his arms across his chest, his nose wrinkling as the skin between his eyebrows creased. "The sky would sooner fall than for her to be useful."

Eugene Attonson clicked his tongue in a rather mocking manner. He threw the dagger up in the air, easily catching it without any hesitation. His movements were practiced and trained. Even though it was no spectacular feat, it also wasn’t something someone could do on their first try without looking like an amateur.

Every single toss Eugene made was too perfect. His fingers and arm never wavered or trembled, and the dagger flew so straight that it could have been a makeshift arrow.

That made Daphne frown.

The rumors she had heard of Viscount Attonson were that he was a handicapped lord, someone that although made use of underhanded tactics to gain his current position of power, was actually inconvenienced in some way. With the short amount of time Daphne had spent with him, it was clear that it wasn’t with his legs― he could walk and run perfectly fine.

However, by the looks of it now, it didn’t seem like his arms had any issues either.

With all of that put out of the way, it just meant one thing, one thing that Daphne had never realized― Eugene Attonson had an alternate identity. It was just like Alistair had said, a comment she had thought was off-handed.

Who, in that case, was Jean Nott?

"Why can’t I?" Eugene asked, merry. "Queen Daphne is a lot more talented than you lot. You should’ve seen her in action. Fire-breathing, man, that is something none of you brothers and sisters can do, isn’t it?"

The more Eugene spoke, the deeper and darker Alistair’s frown became. Nonetheless, Eugene paid him no mind. He continued his little steps, practically dancing excitedly along the hallway like a child on Christmas morning.

"Oh, you Reawethen royalties have always been so pretentious. So hasty too― definitely much too quick when judging a person’s skills and abilities. Just because she was a late bloomer doesn’t mean that she didn’t have the potential to become something great."

"My sister was a failure at birth, a failure as a child, and now that she is an adult," Alistair said, "she continues to sully the Molinero family name. What is she but common in a family of prodigies? Are you so blinded by your feelings for her that you parrot such a ridiculous statement as fact?"

"Too full of yourself too, it seems." Eugene clicked his tongue under his breath in distaste, ignoring Alistair’s question. "But it does not matter. Sooner or later, you will realize that the sister you’ve always hated is nothing more than a late bloomer. But heed my advice, Prince Alistair..."

Eugene suddenly took a sharp step forward, causing Alistair to back against a wall in surprise. The dagger in Eugene’s hand slammed right into the stone, finding its place in between the pieces that made up the palace. Small pebbles fell onto the floor from the sudden force, the entire room ringing and vibrating.

It didn’t take a trained eye to see that Eugene had used magic in that hit. His strength was greatly enhanced, allowing his blade to pierce through the smooth stone like it was nothing. If he had been any faster, Alistair might’ve even been stabbed right through.

"A flower that blooms only once a year will always be far more precious than a flower that opens its petals for every ray of morning light. You lot better start placing more importance on that forgotten princess of yours. If not, she will become a very powerful tool for an equally powerful enemy. Vramid is not a kingdom you want to look down on."

With that said, Eugene pulled the sword from the wall, sheathing the small blade into a hidden pocket. He wiggled his fingers, smiling brightly.

"I shall not charge you since you didn’t get to win your little ego war. Take my words as... compensation, if you will," he said. "You’ll definitely need it in the future."

Whistling under his breath, Eugene merrily walked away. He chose to head in the direction opposite where the trio hid, not forgetting to turn back and smirk for a brief second. Alistair, who was still too stunned to react, hadn’t noticed Eugene’s reaction. The smug bastard soon disappeared into the shadows.

"Why aren’t we chasing?!" Atticus asked, his voice a little too raised. He was prepared to move out and charge toward Eugene Attonson but was promptly held back by Prince Nathaniel, who only shook his head.

"This is more serious than just a possible kidnapping and break-in, King Atticus," Prince Nathaniel said.

"Fuck Jean Nott," Atticus cursed. "It doesn’t matter which name he prefers hiding under. When it boils down to it, he is just a slimy little weasel that is too afraid to see the light of day."

"Many kingdoms have a bounty on Nott’s head, King Atticus," Prince Nathaniel reminded. There was a fire burning in his eyes, equally filled with as much rage as what was in Atticus’s golden irises. "If he was that easy to catch, we would’ve caught him in the maze. He only waited for us to show up because he wanted to let us know he was there."

Daphne watched in silence from where she was. She half-listened to their conversation and half-eyed her brother, who stood up like a lifeless ghoul before walking away limply. His figure soon disappeared after Eugene Attonson, leaving just the three of them in the hallway.

"You think I don’t know that?" Atticus seethed. "Every attempt forsaken is an attempt lost. Who knows how many lives will be lost just because we’re too slow to act?!"

"And how many lives will be lost just because we’re too hasty?" Prince Nathaniel countered. "We will call for an emergency conference with just selected leaders. I propose King Calarian, Princess Cordelia, and Queen Yvaine. The latter two hadn’t participated in the earlier conference when they should have, thanks to my sister’s tea party. They need to know about this as well."

Atticus breathed heavily but eventually relented. He nodded, prompting Prince Nathaniel to loosen his grip.

Finally, Daphne spoke. "Atticus?"

Both men turned to look at her, curious as to what she might say.

"Yes?"

"Who’s Jean Nott?" Daphne asked.

This caused Prince Nathaniel to frown as he cast a look of doubt in Atticus’s way.

"You’ve never heard of Jean Nott?" Prince Nathaniel asked, dumbfounded. To which, Daphne only shook her head.

"Sunshine," Atticus sighed, "Jean Nott is a wanted criminal across many, many kingdoms. His list of crimes is unending. However, he is most famed for one thing."

Atticus pursed his lips, frowning.

"It seems like your little friend is actually the leader of the assassin’s guild."

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