Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 320: Blue Glow I

Chapter 320: Blue Glow I

Daphne’s muscles ached.

Her shoulders felt as though she had the entire weight of the world resting on them. She badly wanted to slouch but the years of grueling etiquette classes disallowed her to show any of that. Fatigue was starting to creep over her like a heavy cloak, but even so, she met Alistair’s heated gaze straight on.

As she jumped through the flames, she controlled them to weave through the air, blasting right back in Alistair’s direction. Sparks danced in a blazing trail of red and gold, setting nearby furniture alight before blasting right into the wall.

Alistair had dodged at the very last minute, jumping out of the way of one stream of fire while redirecting the other, blasting right into the table situated right by the wall.

The tunnel was scarcely furbished — just some tables and chairs scattered around, most likely for the guards on duty — but they were still made of wood and were highly combustible. Soon enough, the familiar smell of smoke filled the passageway.

They were all going to suffocate to death in here soon if they can’t get out.

"You’re exhausted," Alistair observed, his tone mocking as he pointed it out. "It doesn’t take a genius to see that, Daphne. You are no match for me. If you surrender, I might even let your little friends go."

Daphne snorted rather ungracefully. She rolled her eyes and said, "As if. You have guards situated outside, ready to kill on sight the moment they leave."

Her clenched fists began to heat up and generate flames of her own. Likewise, the garnets on her ears heated up as well, reflecting the growing strength of her fire. She was tired but adrenaline demanded she be alive.

"You can’t fool me," she said.

"What a pity," Alistair commented, clicking his tongue. "If only you were like Drusilla."

"Why would I ever want to be like her?" Daphne shot back. "I am not keen on spreading my legs for just about any man that’s willing to shove it in."

"It wouldn’t just be ’any man’ at this rate," Alistair said enigmatically, his unsettling smirk causing Daphne’s stomach to drop.

Her flames flickered, dimming for a fraction of a second, a reflection of her mood. Alistair grinned― he knew he had her attention.

She frowned and asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"Maybe the king finally found a husband for her?" Zephyr suggested to Daphne, his voice low.

However, Daphne knew it couldn’t be that simple. If that was the case, Alistair would’ve never willingly mentioned it. Not when they were supposed to be right in the middle of a fight. He was clearly trying to use this fact to distract her and damn him, it was working a little too well.

"Aren’t they beautiful, Daphne?" Alistair asked. He spread out his hands even though they weren’t alight. He wasn’t planning to attack with magic. "They were like works of art. However, they weren’t perfect."

"Who is ’they’?" Zephyr questioned.

All of a sudden, Daphne sucked in a breath of cold air. Even though the room was hot — thanks to both the fire and the lack of natural airflow from outside — Daphne felt her body tremble with shivers.

Those dead women in the dungeons. They looked eerily like her. She hadn’t thought much about it and had brushed Zephyr’s earlier observations off as him having possibly spotted her siblings but there had been a sudden increase in blonde women in the palace.

Alistair was making copies of her. All those women had been experimented on to look just like her.

"What a shame," Alistair mused. "It seems like you are pretty clever after all. If Father and Mother had properly raised you, perhaps you would’ve actually been a proper competitor that could measure up against me."

"Where are Drusilla and Hazelle?" Daphne asked, her gaze steely.

She stared at Alistair, keenly watching his every move. He was making no signs of attack― or at least, not a sign that she was used to seeing on him. However, she wouldn’t put her guard down anytime soon. The more relaxed Alistair was, the more he thought he had things under his control.

That meant that they were still at a severe disadvantage.

Drusilla and Hazelle’s absence would be the reason for that, most likely.

"Back at the party, of course!" Alistair replied joyfully. "Hazelle wouldn’t be a good sister-in-law if she missed your coronation, now, would she? As for Drusilla... Well..."

The brighter Alistair’s smile got, the more worry clouded Daphne’s chest. She felt as though she was about to be suffocated if she stayed here for any moment longer. They need to leave.

"Drusilla is with your husband, of course," Alistair answered truthfully. "Or, to be exact, he would be her husband in no time."

"You have been trying to create a woman that could replace me," Daphne murmured under her breath.

"Oh, no, of course not!" Alistair said, waving her theory off. "Those women were just the lab rats. They exist solely for me to perfect the recipe. The plan was always for Drusilla to replace you. She is, after all, the superior sister. And soon enough, she will also be the superior wife for your husband."

There was no need for Daphne to hear any more than what she already did. With a war cry, she threw a hand out, a fireball thrust from her hand straight into Alistair’s face. Then another, and another. The intense heat that radiated from them made the very air quiver with their presence.

Their flickering light illuminated the surroundings in brief, brilliant bursts. Alistair’s laughter was maniacal as he either redirected or evaded Daphne’s attacks, countering them almost too easily. With her weakened, he was more than a match for her, even with just one complete hand and half of another.

Her fight with him allowed Alistair to have a taste of the old glory he used to have before Atticus had so kindly relieved him of a limb. And from the looks of it, in no time, Alistair would have his other hand fully back.

Daphne was an old horse well towards the end of her lifespan.

"Give up, Daphne, you’re no match for me―"

Alistair’s voice was cut short when a particularly strong blast of fire burst forth from Daphne, striking him right in his face before he could move out of the way. He screamed in pain, roaring out as his skin seared and burned.

Even with the Molinero family’s resistance to heat, a blast straight into his skin was too much for him to bear.

Alistair’s hand grabbed at his face, yelling his voice hoarse as he hunched over.

"Zephyr!" Daphne tugged at the griffin, gesturing to the window behind Alistair. "Now!"

"Got it!" Zephyr prepared to take flight but before he could, Alistair had straightened up.

Half his face had been burned badly, blistering and raw, further adding to the savage bloodlust that radiated from his eyes.

"Not so fast!" He growled. "You’ll pay for this! Fuck it!"

It was as if Daphne had gone back in time.

Alistair had poured in every bit of his strength and magic into a wave of fire so strong that Daphne could feel the heat before the fire even left Alistair’s hands. He swung forward, targeting this blast of magic straight at Daphne.

Just like before, she stood in between Alistair’s fire and Nereus.

The aquamarines that lined her wedding ring glowed. What followed was an icy cool sensation.