Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 305: Pointing Fingers I

Chapter 305: Pointing Fingers I

"My fault?" Hazelle took a wary step back, but there was a slightly condescending look on her face as she looked at Drusilla. "Are you daft?"

Gone was the princess that was the very picture of perfect sweetness and delight; Drusilla now looked nothing better than an ordinary woman from the streets, albeit clad in a fancier gown.

Hazelle’s lips curled as she eyed Drusilla’s hair, haphazardly tied into an untidy bun. Her servants clearly didn’t bother with making her presentable. After all, it wasn’t like she was allowed to meet anyone.

And those people who wanted to meet her wouldn’t be looking at her hair.

"Of course it’s your fault!" Drusilla demanded hotly, raising a hand encased in flame. Her eyes were bright with indignation. "This was your scheme to begin with! I never should have trusted you!"

"My scheme?" Hazelle’s eyes widened and she gasped, as though she was in shock. She made a big show of looking around for spectators. Finding none, she continued her act. "Princess Drusilla, are you implying that I made you take off your clothes and seduce the duke?"

"Yes!" Drusilla seethed, "You gave me the aphrodisiac to―"

"And you took it willingly," Hazelle replied boredly. "You knew it was an aphrodisiac, and yet you still drank it in your wine at the party and you’re upset that it worked exactly as promised. I do not know how you can blame me for this."

Of course, Drusilla wouldn’t be Drusilla if she could take advice in good faith― especially not when she had reached a new low in her life. A sneer painted Hazelle’s face as she watched Drusilla throw a tantrum that would make any child proud.

"This is your fault! I don’t care! You need to fix it! Or else... Or else I’ll have your head!" Her flames danced dangerously around her, and Hazelle took another minute step back.

"I can’t fix it, and I don’t want to," Hazelle said with a prideful scoff. "I’m not the woman who whored around so much that Duke Lanperouge didn’t want to be saddled with you for a wife. The aphrodisiac was only the icing on the cake."

Drusilla screamed in rage and flung a ball of fire at Hazelle’s head. Hazelle shrieked and dodged the fireball in time by flattening herself against the ground with a loud thud.

"How dare you act so high and mighty in front of me!" Drusilla snarled victoriously as she stomped on Hazelle’s wrist, causing her to let out a hiss of pain. "Even when I’ve fallen, I’m still better than you! Brother will still like me more!"

"The moment you spread your legs for some other man, you were already ruined," Hazelle said viciously, looking up at Drusilla. "If you want to burn me, go ahead. I’ll make sure to add disfiguring your sister-in-law to your list of crimes."

"Don’t think I wouldn’t dare!" Drusilla howled and leaned closer, a manic gleam in her eye. Hazelle tried not to flinch as her fiery hand came closer to her face.

"What is the meaning of this? Why are you making so much noise outside?" A familiar voice sounded. Hazelle turned, she had never been this happy to see her husband before.

"Hazelle! Drusilla, what is the meaning of this!" Alistair roared. Almost immediately, Drusilla sprung back, dousing the fire on her hands. She reverted back to being a meek little lamb, looking up at Alistair through her limpid hair.

"Brother I was just―"

To Drusilla’s utter surprise, Alistair actually moved to help Hazelle off the floor. Even with one hand remaining, Alistair was the very picture of a gentleman. He then saw Hazelle’s rapidly darkening wrist and scowled.

"Did you do this to her?"

"Brother, I was just―"

"I asked you a simple yes or no question. Did you do this to Hazelle’s wrist?"

Drusilla’s mouth fell open in shock as she caught the brief look of smug satisfaction that crossed Hazelle’s eyes. Her brother was... supporting Hazelle? He was helping her address her wrongs? She couldn’t believe her eyes.

No, it was simply preposterous. Drusilla simply had to remind Alistair that she was his favorite sibling for a reason.

Unknown to her, Alistair had all but written off Drusilla as his sister. After he found out that his supposedly pure younger sister was making the rounds among a vast number of gentlemen in his circles, he was bombarded with letters claiming that they were the first to savor Drusilla’s maidenhead, and they would love to call him a brother-in-law.

The nerve of Drusilla! He couldn’t even tell which one was the earliest, despite King Cyrus wanting an answer. Drusilla fucked so many of his peers, it was easier to find out who she didn’t spread her legs for.

Her poor reputation notwithstanding, it was her failure to even complete one simple task that rankled him. After talking so much, it turned out that she was the main stumbling block!

Hazelle had provided everything, and all Drusilla needed to do was to execute it.

She couldn’t even drug the right person! Whoever heard of someone so incompetent that they drugged themselves?! And then still fornicating in front of their parents?

Alistair clearly doted upon her in vain. If he was imprisoned in the dungeons and had to count on her for rescue, he would be deader than the cooked chickens for dinner. At least Hazelle was still useful for something.

She had most certainly proved her worth the last couple of days, tending to Alistair’s every need with a patient smile on her face. It was so much so that — with the aid of his better mood, thanks to the effect of Jean Nott’s drugs working — he was starting to see the appeal of his wife.

After that insane tyrant had severed Alistair’s hand, it was Hazelle who had stayed by his side and taken care of him. With the consistent doses provided by Nott, what was once a stub that ended at his wrist now grew out into half a palm.

Alistair was so close to regaining his former glory. Jean Nott’s drug worked wonders. Now, he just needed Drusilla to stop being a nuisance. Her insanity had locked Daphne in her room with her husband, and with that, Alistair hadn’t been able to access her since.

"It hurts..." Hazelle trailed off, frailly leaning into Alistair’s embrace, just as she had watched Drusilla perform countless of times. "Drusilla... Drusilla said she wanted to give me a matching pair!"