Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 221: The Sentencing III

Chapter 221: The Sentencing III

"No!" Francessa Seibert screamed, all but flinging herself forward at her captors. However, no matter how loudly the chains around her hands rattled at her efforts, they still held firm, pulling her to the ground.

Daphne merely gave Francessa a smirk, enraging her further.

Francessa tried to crawl back onto her feet, making another attempt to reach forward to strangle them both. However, the knights posted around the royal couple were much faster. They pinned her back down onto the ground, preventing her from moving an inch further.

"No! You can’t do this! You can’t!"

The previously high and mighty Marchioness had gone off the bend. She screeched and trashed with insanity, struggling against the knights’ hold. Lucien Seibert watched from one side, his eyebrows furrowed together as he observed his wife’s reaction.

"One more thing," Atticus said. "Lucien Seibert."

"Yes, Your Majesty?" The man in question had his head bowed, looking anywhere but at the king.

His heart was torn from the sight of his beloved wife in such a state. The woman that he fell in love with, the woman that he cared so much for... was nothing more than a shell that was filled with his imagination. She was never the person Lucien Seibert had imagined her to be and it was only now did he understand that.

He had been in love with a dream.

"While exiled to the Northern borders, you are to take care of your wife."

Atticus’s words struck Lucien Seibert like a bolt of lightning. The man jolted before sharply turning his gaze towards the royal couple, his eyes widened like saucers and his jaw hanging agape.

The king continued, "Neither of you are allowed to file for a divorce or separation of any kind from now until death do you both part."

That was it. The last nail in the coffin.

Lucien Sibert collapsed down onto the ground with a thud. At first, his expression was blank but in the midst of his wife’s frantic howls, a slow smile — devoid of any joy — slowly began to spread onto his face. He chuckled once, then twice, then burst into a full-on guffaw that sent the crowd into shock.

It seemed like the Marquis had followed suit in the descent into insanity. The screws in his head had finally come loose as well!

"For the rest of you in attendance," Atticus said, barely even giving the two insane people a second glance and instead, chose to directly address the crowd, "let this be a lesson for all of you. As well as a fair reminder that whoever dares tread the path of malevolence will be swiftly dealt with in the name of law."

Daphne took a few steps forward, walking to where Francessa Seibert was still pressed onto the ground. Her face was now smushed with a layer of dirt and random rotten wastes, but even that did not manage to hide the wild look of fury that colored Francessa Seibert’s irises.

She paused her thrashing when she noticed the shoes right in front of her, simple yet pristine. Francessa’s line of sight followed it all the way up, just to meet Daphne’s cold blue eyes staring down at her.

Even though the queen was dressed in nothing more than a maid’s drabs, she still looked every bit as refined and regal as a ruler had to be. As compared to the first few times Francessa had met with the queen, Daphne Molinero now reeked with confidence and conviction. She no longer had the attitude of a meek little princess still trying to find her footing, familiarizing herself with the inner workings of the court and the wider world.

For the first time, Francessa Seibert felt a fraction of fear for the monarch before her. Her mouth went dry, and her heart pounded with trepidation.

"In case there was any doubt," Daphne said, meeting Francessa’s line of sight dead on, "I am the law."

The crowd — including the deranged Francessa Seibert — grew silent. Those who dared to riot against the queen during the events of the Spring Parade quickly cowered back, afraid to show their faces lest they incur the wrath of the queen.

On the other hand, the few who spoke up for her gleamed with pride, their chests puffing― they felt like a mother watching their child finally grow up.

Daphne did not waste this opportunity now that the crowd was finally silent. It was time to turn the tides on the people’s opinions of her as their ruler.

"The Seiberts’ confiscated riches will be used to better the lives of the people, as per it was originally intended before it was stolen," Daphne said. "More information will be passed down in the coming days."

At the thought of there being a monetary handout, the townsfolk cheered and celebrated in roaring joy. They jumped and hugged one another, completely forgetting the previous animosity they had held for their queen because of Francessa Seibert’s words and the events of the Spring Parade. What they knew now was that at least their queen was willing to make substantial amends.

In comparison to the ghastly, two-faced Marchioness that used others to pad her own glory, their queen was truly a saint!

"Any final words?" Atticus asked, glaring coldly at the Seiberts, who were both shaking violently on the ground.

"None, Your Majesty," Lucien Seibert finally said, since his wife chose to remain silent.

Francessa’s line of sight had been glued to the ground ever since Daphne had announced her plans. Her lips were parted and quivering, her fingernails digging into the ground from her strong grip. Even though the knights’ hold had slackened on her, Francessa Seibert did not make any signs of moving. It seemed like she had all her fight churned out of her.

"In that case, men," Atticus ordered, "take them away!"

Lucien and Francessa Seibert were escorted into the caged carriage in handcuffs. This time, there were guards posted around the couple to make sure the people would not be throwing anything any further. They had already been stripped of any and everything that mattered to them.

There was no need to further rub salt in the wound.

Also, his citizens shouldn’t waste their food supplies on these criminals.

Once the couple was towed out of sight, Atticus breathed out a sigh of relief. He got Jonah to clear out the crowd as he and Daphne made their way back to the castle. He had been planning a surprise for his beloved wife for weeks now, but it had been delayed again and again because of the good-for-nothing Seiberts and their talent at disrupting Atticus’s designs.

Now that they were finally dealt with, he can finally move on with what he had in mind.

"You’re looking awfully jolly," Daphne commented when Atticus brought her to the courtyard of the castle. Was it just her, or were there more flowers than usual?

"Why do you seem happier than I am about Francessa Seibert’s fall from grace?"

"I don’t give a rat’s ass about those two," Atticus said with a scoff, rolling his eyes.

Without warning, he curved one arm around Daphne’s waist, pulling her close and into his embrace. She yelped a little in surprise, her hands landing on his broad chest to stabilize herself. Only after did she realize how intimately positioned they were, with her face just mere inches apart from his.

"My dear Daphne," Atticus murmured, "will you marry me?"