Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 275: The Gentleman’s Return I

Chapter 275: The Gentleman’s Return I

Queen Anette froze, and Daphne saw the slightest hint of fear enter her mother’s eyes. That, more than anything, told her that she had to be on guard. Daphne could count on one hand the number of times when she saw her mother afraid.

After all, Queen Anette was infamous for being a mountain of ice, the embodiment of glacial calm. It was rare for her to display any negative emotion outwardly. Even the presence of Lady Josephine and Drusilla in her marriage was endured with nothing more than a stony silence.

"Alistair, you should still be resting," Queen Anette scolded as she looked over Alistair critically, sounding every inch the concerned mother. "You’re still recovering."

Alistair let out a mocking laugh, casting her a derisive glance. "Mother, I can sleep my hours away, but it will not regrow my missing hand. Daphne’s beloved husband had made sure of that."

Queen Anette pursed her lips at her son’s rudeness, but she didn’t rebuke him.

Daphne couldn’t help but notice that there was something strange in her older brother’s demeanor― she had expected despondency and anger; the entire palace had heard his nightly howls of outrage and his destruction of property wasn’t quiet.

Whenever Alistair’s tirade started, Atticus would applaud at every noise, delighting in Alistair’s suffering.

Daphne didn’t bother to stop him. She only wondered how Hazelle was enduring under her husband’s volatile temper. Alistair lived and loved to torment the people around him, and Daphne doubted his injury would have made him easier to live with.

Yet, her brother seemed remarkably well-adjusted in broad daylight. Gone was the sunken look in his eyes and his hollowed cheeks. His hair was longer and untamed, resembling a lion. There was a manic gleam in his eyes as he stared intently at Daphne.

Goosebumps began to rise on Daphne’s arms.

"Mother, Hazelle has been looking for you. She has questions regarding Duke Lanperouge’s birthday ball. You wouldn’t want her to seek advice from that whore Lady Josephine, would you?" Alistair asked, not even bothering to give his mother a second look.

The intent was clear; he wanted to get Daphne alone. Daphne didn’t miss the brief look of alarm her mother shot her, and a part of her couldn’t help but feel pleased at this tiny hint of concern.

But Daphne merely steeled herself and nodded minutely in response. If Alistair tried to hurt her, she had no qualms about lopping off his other hand.

"Fair enough, I shall see her then. I have dawdled long enough outside," Queen Anette said with a huff, walking back to the castle.

Alistair and Daphne watched their mother’s retreating back vanish from view before they turned back to face each other. Beside her, Zephyr flexed his wings, prepared to snatch Daphne into the skies if the confrontation went sour.

"Tell your little pet to stand down," Alistair sniffed, as though Zephyr was something dirty stuck at the bottom of his shoe.

"Zephyr can make his own decisions," Daphne replied with a smile that showed off all her teeth. "What brings you outside, my dear brother? Are you trying to tire yourself out so that you’ll finally sleep without screaming and yelling?"

A muscle twitched in Alistair’s jaw. "Your arrogance will be your undoing!"

Daphne had to scoff at his response. "Have you looked in the mirror recently? That is a statement that suits you more than it does me. No one told you to fight Atticus when you were so blatantly outclassed."

"I had him!" Alistair roared out. "Your husband cheated, and now you’re out for my position!"

"Excuse me?" Daphne vibrated with righteous indignation at this slight to Atticus’s honor. "Atticus was injured earlier, and he still managed to use his powers to take down a dragon. You ambushed him when he was tired after he did you a great service!"

Daphne did not give Alistair the chance to rebut. She had grown much bolder from her screaming practices with Atticus in the early days of her marriage and arguing with her brother was nothing in comparison.

"If anything, you are a disgraceful cad! An utter failure as a prince!" Daphne yelled, not caring who heard her.

Zephyr internally cheered. This bastard prince deserved every bit of vitriol spewed his way.

"Like you are any better!" Alistair yelled back, an ugly glint in his eyes. "All you do is hide behind your husband and now your new human pet! How many other men are you going to seduce into doing your bidding? Don’t think that just because you have that bastard Atticus as your husband the world is yours!"

He raised his own remaining hand. Power coursed through it and he aimed it straight for Daphne’s cheek, clearly aimed at disfiguring her.

Thankfully, Zephyr caught his hand before he could do any damage.

She raised her own hands, power coursing through her as she snarled.

"Touch me with that other hand and it’ll be the last time you have hands," she warned.

"You’re crazy!" Zephyr added, shaking Alistair’s wrist like a dog with a bone.

Alistair fought to regain control, spitting at Daphne, but Zephyr wasn’t a mythical creature for nothing. Bolstered by dragonfire, Zephyr easily won the tug-of-war over Alistair’s own hand, causing Alistair to stumble as Zephyr dragged him forward.

"Be careful," Daphne said with deliberate dismissiveness, her eyes flicking to Atticus’s enraged face. "He only has one hand left. Try not to tear it off by accident."

After all, Daphne wanted to do it herself. Zephyr loosened his grip, and Alistair shook him off, pulling himself to his full height.

"Thanks for your concern sweet sister, but it’s entirely unnecessary," Alistair sneered, "You are once again mistaken."

Daphne raised her eyebrow. She wondered what new nonsense Alistair was coming up with.

"I will get my hand back. Simple rest may not suffice, but the heavens will never let someone as blessed as I am to suffer at your hands." Alistair’s eyes glinted viciously. "But I must thank you for sweetening negotiations between us. Things would not be so easy otherwise."

"What are you talking about?" Daphne demanded. "You can’t regrow a hand. No one can."

"The same way no one can give magical powers?" Alistair asked knowingly, loving the way his sister subconsciously took a step back, her face paling in the sun.

He knew it. She had definitely gotten help from Eugene Attonson, and most likely promised to sleep with him but didn’t deliver. That would explain that man’s obsession with his sister, why he kept an army of whores that looked like her.

"Oh yes, sweet sister of mine, thanks to you, I find myself befriending a particularly knowledgeable and well-connected gentleman, who only wants one thing in return." He took a step forward. "You, dead or alive."

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