Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 287: Searching For A Woman

Chapter 287: Searching For A Woman

Sirona’s palm crisply collided with Prince Nathaniel’s cheek. It was something that she had badly ached to do ever since his healers had her kept in the infirmary against her will back in Raxuvia.

The prince awoke from the impact, greatly startled by the sudden slap. He groaned, adjusting his posture in his seat only to realize that his movements had been greatly hindered by creeping vines that wrapped around him like a constricting boa.

Furthermore, there was no seat. Unless he counted the cold, wet floor of some random back alley, well hidden away from the view of passersby. There was barely even any light; the sun had set and there were no lamps in the area that illuminated the path. All that shone was the silver moon in the sky, though it was barely even enough.

"What... happened..."

"Rise and shine, Your Highness," Sirona sang. She smirked, looking proudly at her handy achievement.

The side that she had slapped just so happened to be the same direction the moonlight was cast. In the silvery glow, the red imprint contrasted vibrantly against his pale skin. Beautiful. Men do look better with a bit of blush.

"That wasn’t necessary, Sirona," Jonah chided with a frown. In the dark, other than the moonlight, only his malachite was glowing brightly. It pulsed, causing the vines to tighten and loosen whenever the intensity of the light changed.

"He wouldn’t wake up otherwise," Sirona muttered under her breath. She sat herself down on a nearby barrel, huffing.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Prince Nathaniel questioned, trying to regulate his breathing.

Slowly, the bits and pieces of his memory started to return from prior to his blackout. He had been in the red light district, searching for someone. And yet, King Atticus’s healer had pricked him with a needle and his body turned numb before he eventually fell unconscious.

"Apologies for the rough handling, Your Highness, but we cannot take any chances," Jonah said. He did, however, slightly loosen up the tight grip of the vines so that Nathaniel would not look so purple.

"Where are my guards?" Prince Nathaniel asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Taken care of," Sirona immediately replied from behind, earning her a glare from Jonah.

"But alive," Jonah added, all while giving Sirona the stink eye. "They’re just unconscious. They were not harmed."

"May I know why I am now tied and bound in a random back alley, in that case, Sir Jonah?" Prince Nathaniel asked, his patience wearing thin. He tried not to look at the damned healer, who had been giving him nasty glares and taunting smirks ever since he had regained consciousness.

"We were looking for a particular person," Jonah said. "We believe that you are looking for him as well. But the question is, what for?"

"What could a man be doing in the red light district, then, Sir Jonah?" Nathaniel laughed coldly. "Aren’t most people here looking for the same thing? They’re here to court pleasure."

"Not you, Your Highness." Jonah’s tone was firm.

He had seen everything― from the way this prince had acted all the way to the investigation reports Atticus had ordered on Prince Nathaniel, Jonah was sure that the crown prince of Raxuvia would be the last to be caught in a brothel in the arms of another woman.

Sadly for Atticus, Prince Nathaniel was much too whipped by Daphne to go floundering into the arms of another woman, much less a sex worker. There was nothing wrong with prostitution, just that there was no way this man — who was the walking embodiment of refined elegance — would seek the comforts of the flesh. Especially not before marriage and not with anyone lesser than a member of the nobility.

"Besides, if you were looking for harlots, you could easily find one in Raxuvia. Why come all the way to Reaweth?" Jonah asked. That question quickly rendered Prince Nathaniel speechless.

Thus, if Prince Nathaniel hadn’t been sniffing between brothels — and one overseas at that — for women, then it had to be for another reason.

"Unless, you’re not looking for a female companion," Jonah deduced. "But a man―"

"You are just like your master," Prince Nathaniel spat out in disgust. "I have no idea what is it with you and King Atticus but that is enough of smearing my good name with―"

Sirona’s laughter was what cut Prince Nathaniel’s ranting off. She clutched her stomach and leaned forward, chortling carefreely, even raising a hand to wipe tears away from the corner of her eyes. Both men turned to look at her at the same time, one more confused than the other, all the way until her laughter eventually dimmed down.

"Are you finished?" Prince Nathaniel deadpanned.

"Oh, Jonah," Sirona said, sighing as she shook her head. "Your words are so easily misunderstood."

"What do you― Oh." Jonah’s lips were parted, formed into the shape of an ’o’ as he slowly turned to look at the crown prince. He then pursed his lips, swallowing the bile in his throat rather guiltily.

"That’s not what Jonah meant, Your Highness," Sirona said. Then, she smirked slyly. "Unless... you are feeling awfully guilty and ashamed of the fact that he had, in fact, gotten it right."

"Utter nonsense," Prince Nathaniel said. "Why would I look for a man to― Never mind." He huffed and turned to face the other way, angered to the point of speechlessness.

"I meant that you must know Jean Nott is hiding here," Jonah clarified, pinching the bit of skin between his eyebrows. This was becoming a bigger headache than he had even predicted it might be. "Are you here to find him?"

Prince Nathaniel maintained his silence.

"Maybe this will help," Sirona said. She pulled out a small vial filled with a blue liquid.

Seeing it, Prince Nathaniel immediately pursed his lips tighter together, not allowing them to feed him any of the kyanite substance.

Only, what he had done was absolutely useless. Sirona never had the intention of feeding him this kyanite serum in the first place. It wasn’t an ordinary mixture that had controlled doses, but rather, a fluid that Sirona had specifically developed that contained insanely high doses.

Ever since kyanite had been brought in to interrogate the Seiberts, she had snuck some off of Jonah’s stash to formulate her own doses. She needed only a little for it to stay in effect for days.

She inserted a clean needle into the bottle, coating the tip with a thin layer before walking towards Prince Nathaniel. With the vines keeping him tightly bound together, she first ripped the carnelian brooch off of him to prevent him from ridding himself of the kyanite in his body. Then, she jabbed the needle right into his flesh, eliciting a hiss of pain.

"Why are you looking for Jean Nott, Your Highness?"

Prince Nathaniel gritted his teeth in pain. However, the effect of the blue kyanite was way too strong for him to resist. His lips were pried open by imaginary hands, his willingness to speak the truth further fueled by the pain that seemed to spread through his veins, originating from the puncture point.

"He owes me something," Prince Nathaniel forced out, his voice low.

"What does he owe you?" Jonah asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Prince Nathaniel hadn’t seemed to have any dealings with Jean Nott― at least, not since they had visited Raxuvia.

Ever since then, Atticus had Jonah dispatch men to make sure Prince Nathaniel never acted out of order. True enough, the prince had stayed away beyond letters of greeting and his assistance during the Spring Parade.

In fact, ever since the Spring Parade, it had seemed like Prince Nathaniel had locked himself in his palace, never to be seen outside since.

"My bride." Prince Nathaniel’s eyes seemed bloodshot, colored by both agony and insanity. "Your queen."

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