Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 237: Deal with the Devil I

Chapter 237: Deal with the Devil I

"King Cyrus, I have to hand it to you― you have the audacity to parade your mistress in front of your wife and your trueborn children, and you even have them sit at the same table, to host royal guests from other kingdoms. Shall I call all my men to sit around our table then? Since we are inviting anyone we like."

Queen Anette flushed an ugly red. She was utterly humiliated by Atticus’s acute observation. What he said was true but it didn’t mean that she liked hearing it said out loud, especially in front of everyone. Across her, Lady Josephine kept her head down, her eyes beading with unshed tears.

"But of course," Atticus said, "I suppose I might be expecting too much courtesy from the kingdom that sent only a single maid with no transportation to be my escort."

Atticus scoffed and flung his dinner knife straight at the table with so much force that all the plates jolted with the impact.

"Who was in charge of arranging our escort party? Is it the fool buried in his potatoes, or the imbecile shaped like a stick?"

Atticus was of course referring to Alistair and Leonora.

No one dared to meet his eyes.

"I’m waiting," Atticus said. "If no one answers my question, we’ll simply spend the rest of our days like this until I get an answer. It’s not hard."

To prove his point, Atticus slammed both siblings against the table once. And again. And again.

Mashed potatoes and gravy flew everywhere, and some sticks of asparagus had also begun to roll out of the dishes. Everyone that could still move tried their best to dodge, but oddly enough, no matter how much they twisted and turned, their butts were still glued tightly to their seats.

"That’s enough disrespect at the dinner table!" Queen Anette raised her hand, and sharp ice daggers flew straight at Atticus’s face.

Daphne’s eyes quickly caught her mother’s action and she instinctively raised her hand as well, conjuring fire to melt them. The icicles splattered harmlessly on the table and turned into a puddle of water within the flash of an eye.

All at once, everyone at the table turned silent in disbelief.

"I believe there’s no need for such violence, Mother," Daphne calmly said, adjusting her dress in her seat. She looked up and smiled serenely. "Atticus was merely trying to protect me. A perfectly reasonable behavior for a perfectly reasonable husband."

"You...! How?" Queen Anette rarely lost her composure, but the sight of her oldest daughter’s mastery of the flame after nearly two decades of failure had caused her to become tongue-tied. She wondered if she had simply imagined it, but from the gobsmacked faces of her children and husband, they had all seen it for themselves as well.

"Why wouldn’t Daphne know magic?" Atticus replied cheerfully. "If even a bastard child can conjure a flame, why wouldn’t the trueborn daughter manage to do it?"

While Daphne was mostly watching Drusilla’s reaction of jealousy and fear, she managed to notice the way Blanche flinched at Atticus’s words.

It was very reminiscent of the way Daphne used to react whenever a noble mentioned Daphne’s lack of aptitude.

Was her youngest sister like her too? Daphne vowed to speak to her at the quickest opportunity.

"Because she’s useless! She’s a fraud!" Alistair exclaimed, in that brief moment his head was raised. He had seen Daphne conjure a flame, but he couldn’t believe his eyes. His head had smacked the dining table over and over again, and his vision was clouded by the mashed potatoes on his face.

Maybe there were problems with his vision!

If not... It meant that his dear younger sister had decided to approach Jean Nott after all for a cure to her deficiency. Alistair laughed to himself, causing his siblings to eye him in trepidation.

"HA! You made a deal with the devil, didn’t you? Even you can’t help her!" Alistair exclaimed triumphantly, his eyes glinting with fervent brightness.

This was better than he expected. There was no way Atticus could punish him now, even if he found out about Alistair’s connections with Jean Nott.

After all, even a powerful man like King Atticus couldn’t help his sister become less pathetic. His useless sister definitely begged this dangerous criminal for help! She might even have given her body as repayment!

Just the very thought of King Atticus getting cucked made Alistair laugh uproariously. Atticus flexed his fingers, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he slammed Alistair’s fat head back on the table to shut him up. Never before had he wanted to fling a fork through someone’s throat so badly!

"The devil?" Luis repeated.

"What is he referring to?" Silas asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine. The hidden mystics?" Luis shrugged.

The two boys muttered to themselves, casting wary looks at Daphne, as though they expected her to sprout horns and a tail.

Meanwhile, Leonora was seething from her frozen position. How could her sister be skilled with fire?!

The only reason why Leonora was the favored princess was because Daphne was as useless as a broken clock despite her beauty. Drusilla was a bastard; Blanche didn’t possess the flames of the Reawethen royal family.

It was Leonora who inherited brains, beauty, and power! Yet with Daphne’s reveal of her powers, Leonora found her status in greater jeopardy. Was she simply allowing Leonora to enjoy having her mother’s favor before coming back to tear it away from her?

Did Daphne pretend to be useless all this time so she could ensnare a powerful husband before revealing her powers?

How despicable of her to play to the desires of men to get their attention!

She would make this lying snake of a sister pay for this!

But she held her tongue. She wouldn’t make Alistair’s mistakes. Their eldest brother might be a magical prodigy and he might be the crown prince, but he always had bricks for brains. There was no brain matter inside that skull of his and he always acted and spoke before he ever thought it through properly.

Truly a fool’s behavior.

"You really don’t know when to shut up," Atticus mused casually, but his anger was palpable to anyone who knew him. He caught the hidden meaning in Alistair’s words; this bastard clearly implied that Daphne had dealings with Jean Nott!

"King Atticus, please, have the magnanimity to release my brother, he was simply too surprised at seeing my sister’s powers," Drusilla pleaded weakly, her eyes wet with unshed tears. She was the very picture of a loving sister, innocence radiating from her very pores.

Drusilla’s very world had collapsed upon seeing that Daphne had powers. After all, her status in the royal family was a lot more precarious than Leonora. Atticus had already made sure no one would forget her origins at the dinner table.

The only way for Drusilla to compete with her is to snatch herself a better husband.

Or better yet, Daphne’s husband.

And she needed Alistair’s help for that. Even if they had consummated their marriage, Drusilla was confident in her ability to seduce King Atticus to her side. With time, any man would realize she was the better choice.

Unfortunately, neither Atticus nor Daphne bought the act. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. In fact, Atticus smirked at Drusilla and flung Alistair through the air like a rag doll, causing him to crash into the suits of armor lining the walls of the dining hall.

Panicked screams rang through the air.

"Brother!"

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