Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 235: Ice Cold Family

Chapter 235: Ice Cold Family

"King Atticus has yet to arrive?" a booming voice asked. He was met with the response of the sound of silverware against fine china; no one dared to reply.

"Father, it seems like the head maid has been left at the borders and is slowly making her way back to the palace," a young lady said. Her back was pin-drop straight and her expression was cold, emotionless.

"Are you sure, Leonora?" King Cyrus asked with a frown.

The lady merely nodded, which was all the sign King Cyrus needed from his daughter. Princess Leonora was the leader of the knights and guarded the borders. Her words were some of the most dependable ones in this palace, especially when it came to important state affairs.

He then set his sights upon his eldest son. "Alistair? What is the meaning of this?"

"Father, I didn’t know―"

"You mean to tell me that you aren’t able to even properly look after a simple maid?" The king had swiftly cut Alistair off, leaving him no room to speak. He continued, "And now the poor woman is out there walking back to the palace alone, yet you have not heard of this?"

"Word on the street is that Brother Alistair hadn’t even sent horses nor carriages to wait with the head maid," the young man sitting by Princess Leonora’s side said, his voice clearly filled with mockery. He picked up his glass of wine and took a huge swig as if it were simple mead. "Poor Helena is stranded there because of his incompetence."

"Watch your tongue, Silas," Alistair hissed. "You of all of us have the least authority to talk about this. Even Blanche is more competent than your sorry self."

"It seems like King Atticus arrived at the royal palace just a few moments ago, Father," Drusilla chirped, her voice merry and sweet. It sounded like a melody, easily releasing all the built-up tension at the table. "But..."

"But?" Her mother, Lady Josephine, asked. She sat by the king’s left, her utensils frozen in place as she looked at her daughter with interest.

"Well," Drusilla shrugged, "it seems like Sister Daphne had dragged him over to have a look at her old room," she said. "I am not sure why, too. A new room had been prepared for them and... well... her old room isn’t exactly very fitting for her to stay in, especially given her new status. That and her husband must surely wish to spend the night with her in the same chambers."

"That woman has clearly gone insane," to Drusilla’s side, Prince Luis said. He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth, swallowing it without barely even chewing. "She is masochistic to want to go back to that tiny little room there."

"She was the one that chose it for herself in the first place," Silas said with a scoff. "Everyone knows that Daphne is obsessed with playing the victim. She and her constant dreams of going from rags to riches."

"Come on now, Brother Silas," Drusilla said, frowning. "That’s not a very nice thing to say about Sister Daphne. I am sure she only picked that room because she didn’t wish to see us too often. After all, if I didn’t have magic, I, too, would wish to keep magic out of sight. It would just be so painful to see others use so easily what you can never have."

"Her envy will be the death of her," Alistair said with a huff.

The dining table rose with chatter, their topic switching from Alistair’s incompetence over to the way Daphne had acted back when she stayed in Reaweth’s palace. All this while, a girl with snowy pale blonde hair sat at the far end. She dug into her food quietly, ignoring the conversation of the older members of her family.

Princess Blanche was the youngest of the Molinero royal family. Unlike her older brothers and sisters, she couldn’t understand why everyone else seemed to hate her oldest sister this much. From what she recalled, Sister Daphne had always been sweet, albeit rather quiet and introverted, and treated Blanche well.

The months that Daphne had been gone were the worst for her.

King Cyrus raised a hand and the table fell into a hushed silence. At first, everyone stared confused, waiting for the king to say a word. But it was the queen who spoke instead. She smiled warmly in the direction of the door from her seat — which was to the king’s right — causing everyone to turn their heads.

"Greetings King Atticus," Queen Anette said, her tone pleasant and even, "and welcome to Reaweth." She then turned her glance to Daphne, her smile dimming a little. However, it still remained plastered on her face. "Welcome home, Daphne."

"Quite the welcome parade," Atticus commented, resisting a scoff. He would’ve gone through with it if it weren’t for Daphne’s fingernails digging into his skin from where she held onto his arm. He was sure for a moment that she was about to draw blood. "Couldn’t even tell that we were welcomed, actually."

No one had heard them come in and everyone had their eyes widened with surprise. Prince Luis’s Adam’s apple had even bobbed up and down as he swallowed his food, a look of guilt coloring his pale face even paler.

"King Atticus! Sister Daphne!" Drusilla all but bounced up from her seat, a bright smile curving her rosy pink lips. She excitedly came over to Daphne, holding her hand.

Too slow to dodge, Daphne decided to just watch and see what this half-sister of hers had in store this time. Had her last lesson back in Raxuvia not been enough? It seemed to Daphne now that Drusilla was simply itching for a good slap.

"It is wonderful to see you again," Drusilla said. "Come, come. We’re about to start dinner. We’ve all been waiting for your arrival."

"What took you so long?" Queen Anette asked, addressing her daughter directly.

The queen was a very beautiful woman. She looked much younger than her actual age and it was from her where Daphne got her platinum hair and frosty blue eyes from.

Daphne’s father, King Cyrus, had a head of bright golden hair. The people had always said that it bore resemblance to the sun and when Daphne’s hair first grew out as a toddler, they weren’t too happy that she had inherited her mother’s whitish locks.

Well. They hadn’t known then that there would soon be more for them to be unhappy about when it came to Daphne.

Although, even as her mother, Queen Anette hardly protected Daphne from the whispers and stares of the others. Even now, she wore a look of distaste, just one scowl short of glaring her down from her own seat.

"My husband was curious about my bedroom, so I brought him there," Daphne breezily replied.

The couple sat down, and the moment they did, Drusilla’s eyes flashed. Her gaze landed on Daphne’s hand on the table, the huge moonstone ring still sitting snugly on her finger.

To her utmost despair, the moonstone’s sheen was now a beautiful rainbow.

Her sister had consummated her marriage at last! Drusilla’s smile wavered, but she kept herself calm.

Meanwhile, Daphne caught Drusilla’s expressions. She could already guess the stage lines that were flying through Drusilla’s mind at the moment and sure enough, her younger sister didn’t disappoint.

"Father," Drusilla said, "did you know that King Atticus managed to bid for the Symphony of a New Dawn? He had even gifted it to Sister Daphne as a wedding ring! Isn’t that most wonderful?"

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