Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 242: Black Sheep I

Chapter 242: Black Sheep I

Someone else was in the library. Daphne was immediately on the defensive, holding her breath as she heard the footsteps approach her, frantically thinking of ways to conceal her presence.

She didn’t want to see any of her siblings― if they found out she was reading such a basic historical text to better understand her own magical abilities, there would be no end to their mockery. Even seeing a servant wouldn’t be good, since they would report back to Alistair or Drusilla.

She needed to hide, but the book... she needed it more.

Her hand instinctively heated up and she curled her fingers around the chain. The heat from her palm should have made quick work of the metal chain, but it was clearly reinforced with other enchantments to prevent theft because Daphne’s fire powers barely softened it.

She cursed under her breath.

How was she supposed to take the book like this? Daphne channeled more power into her hands, beads of sweat forming on her temples.

"Sister Daphne, please don’t do that, you’re causing the library to overheat," a tired voice said.

Daphne whirled around to see her youngest sister Blanche, who stared at her with disapproving eyes in the very same shade of blue as their mother’s. While all the trueborn daughters took after Queen Anette in some form or another, Blanche seemed to be a carbon copy of their mother, inheriting all her features, from her silver hair to the shape of her icy blue eyes.

Daphne made sure to keep calm. She wasn’t going to be intimidated by her youngest sister, who only came up to her chest in height.

"My apologies, Blanche," Daphne said politely, "Are you looking for a book?"

’Please be looking for a book. Please let said book be far, far, away from me,’ Daphne thought fervently. She needed privacy.

But alas, that was not to be. Blanche shook her head and said, "No, I was looking for you. I thought you might show up here."

Daphne could only smile. Just great. Was her youngest sister trying to curry favor with her oldest siblings by ambushing her?

After all, who knew what sort of lies she would have heard about Daphne all these years.

"I see. May I know why you were looking for me? You could have just sent a servant to call on me," Daphne said, turning so she fully concealed the book from Blanche’s eyes.

"No, I don’t want others to know we spoke," Blanche spoke gravely, a far cry from the young girl she was.

Daphne paused as she looked carefully over her youngest sister, recalling her reaction to Atticus’s words, and the way she had stayed silent as she watched them both during dinner.

"Fair enough. What do you wish to talk about?"

"How did you get fire powers?" Blanche asked, almost desperate. "I’ve tried everything, but nothing works."

Daphne blinked in surprise. "You have no magical abilities?"

"I have magic," Blanche corrected. She raised a hand, and Daphne’s mouth fell open as tiny ice fragments began to form on Blanche’s palm. "But I do not have fire."

"Why do you want fire?" Daphne asked, "Cyromancy is as impressive an ability as pyromancy." If Daphne had manifested ice powers when she was younger, her life would certainly be very different indeed.

Blanche stared at her, unimpressed. "Sister, fire melts ice. How is cyromancy possibly as impressive as pyromancy? That’s ridiculous!"

Daphne spluttered; she had the strangest feeling she was being judged by a teenager.

"Reaweth’s royal family had always been pyromancers. Not only is Father disappointed in my lack of fire abilities, Mother doesn’t care much for me either," Blanche continued, a deep frown forming on her face. It didn’t fit her youthful features, and Daphne wanted to poke her sister’s forehead to get her to relax.

But she stopped herself just in time; since she and Blanche weren’t close, Daphne couldn’t be so presumptuous. Instead, Daphne focused on her complaints that were frighteningly familiar.

"Mother doesn’t care about you? How can it be― you’ve inherited her powers!" Daphne exclaimed, confused. Her own neglect was terrible but understandable. Queen Anette had ridiculously high expectations, and when Daphne was deemed a failure, she had all but ceased to exist in her eyes.

But Blanche was her direct successor. A cyromancer in a family of pyromancers― wasn’t that a blessing?

"Your guess is as good as mine," Blanche said, sounding too bitter for her age. "Father suspects Mother had an affair that resulted in me, but I bet it was that foul concubine that fed lies into his ears."

"That’s utterly ridiculous." Daphne scowled. Of course Drusilla’s mother would pull such tricks. "Mother would never cheat on Father. She has too much pride and honor to do so."

Queen Anette would have sooner poisoned King Cyrus than cuck him, no matter how much her father deserved it.

"We know that, but what’s the point? But since she refuses to defend me in front of Father, my only hope for a happier life is if I manage to conjure up some fire. You’re the only one I can ask," Blanche said seriously.

"...I don’t know how to help you," Daphne confessed. "I never thought I would develop any magical ability to begin with. It was only when..." Daphne paused, wondering how much to tell her sister.

"When?"

"When Atticus let me hold some of his crystals, then he realized I had some magical abilities," Daphne said, deciding not to mention the smuggling. It technically counted as sensitive information. "I’m still trying to figure it out for myself. Why do you think I’m reading in the library?"

"If you don’t want to tell me, fine," Blanche scowled petulantly with narrowed eyes. "Don’t patronize me like Drusilla."

"Trust me, I live my life refusing to act anything like Drusilla." Daphne pulled a face at the thought. Blanche’s lip twitched at the disgusted look on her older sister’s face.

"She is insufferable." Blanche tugged at her own hair angrily. "Between her and our parents, I’m this close to running away all the way to Xahan so that I don’t have to see any of them. I hate this place. I want to leave, but even marriage is out of the question."

Tears of anger beaded in Blanche’s eyes.

"I’ll take any husband to get out, but no one wants me because I’m too young!"