Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 306: Pointing Fingers II

Chapter 306: Pointing Fingers II

"A matching... pair?" Alistair echoed. He looked a little confused, with eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed tightly together. He watched as Hazelle sobbed, nodding.

She cradled her hand as though it had already broken into two and was held only by the skin outside. Though, that was far from reality. Drusilla had only stepped hard enough for it to bruise, nothing more. Yet, Hazelle knew that anything related to broken hands and injured wrists had become a trigger point for Alistair ever since he had lost his own.

Drusilla had dug her own grave and Hazelle was more than happy to bury her in it.

"Yes," Hazelle sobbed out. She winced, pretending to be in huge pain. "She said... She said..." Hazelle choked on her words. "If I lost a hand, I would just be like..."

Rather than finish her sentence, she glanced quickly at Alistair’s missing hand before sharply looking away. Her actions were so obvious that he couldn’t have missed it.

Alistair’s blood boiled.

"Brother Alistair..." Drusilla backed away after she noticed the murderous glint in Alistair’s eyes. Cold sweat began to bead across her forehead; the more Alistair stepped forward, the more she cowered away. "I didn’t― It wasn’t my intention― Urk!"

Before she could even think of an excuse for herself, Alistair’s hand had come to wrap around her throat. He might’ve lost a hand but before all of this, he was a well-trained prince who was efficient in combat. Alistair easily lifted Drusilla off the ground, causing her to release strangled, choking sounds as she clawed and pried at Alistair’s hands.

Yet, his fingers remained wrapped around her throat with a vice-like grip. His eyes were bloodshot― Drusilla had never seen her older brother, someone who had adored and doted on her ever since they had first met as children, act like this.

Especially not with her.

Drusilla was a prized jewel, too precious to even rest in the palm of their hands. Now, she was treated like a mere ant beneath a giant’s boot.

"You’re just a bastard daughter," Alistair said, his tone much lower than usual. "You dream of overtaking Daphne but even that useless bitch is stronger than you and better than you in every other way. Just because we favored you back then never erased that fact."

With a careless swing, he threw Drusilla back to the floor as she collapsed in a heap. She started hacking, her hand resting around her throat as she struggled to regain her breath.

Alistair hadn’t left her breathless for too long but his grip had already left red marks on her skin, coloring her pale neck a little red and purple. When a shoe appeared in front of her, Drusilla scampered back in fright.

However, she hadn’t managed to make it far.

Alistair reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Drusilla’s hair, forcing her to look up at him. Even though he had crouched down, she still had to strain her neck just to meet his gaze. For the first time in her life, she was utterly terrified of the man before her.

Drusilla finally realized what a mistake it had been to come here. Alistair, the easily manipulated brother she had known, was truly a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

"Brother Alistair..." Drusilla sobbed. "Please... I didn’t... I swear..."

"You are beautiful."

"Huh?"

"Uh..."

Both Drusilla and Hazelle let out sounds of confusion at Alistair’s sudden compliment.

Hazelle’s fists had tightened, clenched so tightly that her nails dug into the palm of her hands. Was her husband having a sudden mood swing? Just seconds prior, it looked like he was about to personally rid the world of this two-faced whore.

But the moment Alistair’s face darkened and Drusilla’s face paled, Hazelle let out a small breath of relief.

Good. At least for now, it didn’t seem like Alistair was about to raise Drusilla up onto yet another pedestal.

"Yet, despite your beauty, you’re still not good enough for the king of the North," Alistair commented with ire.

He let go of Drusilla’s hair; without him pulling at her scalp, she dropped back down onto the ground.

"It wouldn’t even have been a bad thing for you to have drugged yourself instead of Daphne," Alistair continued. "You just needed to make sure that the man caught in bed with you was King Atticus, not that useless duke."

"That’s impossible, Brother Alistair!" Drusilla cried out. "King Atticus wasn’t even in the ballroom at that time. That was how I managed to spike―"

"But you didn’t, did you?" Hazelle cut in. "You didn’t manage to go through and spike Daphne’s drink. That’s what got you into this mess."

Drusilla gritted her teeth. "I wouldn’t have been in this mess if you had spoken up for me."

"Spoken up for you?" Hazelle barked out in laughter. "Please. If I did, I would practically be admitting to the fact that I was in cahoots with you." Hazelle knowingly glanced at her husband, smirked from where he couldn’t see, and said, "By doing so, I would be dragging Alistair down the mud with us. I’m sorry, Drusilla, but for Alistair’s sake, I can’t help you."

She blinked delicately. Right as Alistair turned to glance back, Hazelle even squeezed out a few tears to pair with her act. She threw on the look of a delicate flower, shaking her head slightly as the droplets of tears streamed down her face like dew off a petal.

"You understand, don’t you, Drusilla?" Hazelle asked. "Alistair’s reputation is important, should he have any chance at regaining the title of ’crown prince’. His name mustn’t be sullied by such a sinister plot against the current crown princess."

Drusilla’s nails dug through the fibers of the carpet beneath her palms. That was it. She had truly underestimated Hazelle and that had resulted in her defeat.

Her head hung low. She couldn’t accept it. This humiliation, this betrayal, this loss...

She wouldn’t accept it!

Yet, with how Hazelle phrased her words, Drusilla knew that there was no way out for her. Whatever she said would go against Alistair. And whatever went against Alistair, he would eradicate mercilessly.

"But..."

Drusilla’s head abruptly snapped up at Alistair’s singular word. Her eyes gleamed with hope, unshed tears rimming the edges, forced in place as she remained silent so that Alistair could speak.

"Is there something I can do, Brother Alistair?" Drusilla implored. "I can’t live like this! Please, if you have a way to fix this, please help me!"

"I might have a way," Alistair admitted, nodding.

The grin that shaped his lips was diabolical, but Drusilla hadn’t noticed it. She was too hung up over his words, too eager to know the way out of this mess.

"You will just have to replace Daphne. Both in mind," he said, "and in body."

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