Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 331: Payments Due

Chapter 331: Payments Due

"You sure took your time," Jean Nott said, languidly resting his chin on the back of his hand, scanning through a pile of documents that had been spread across his table.

Out of the few visits Alistair had made, he had never seen this man at work. He was always lazing around, enjoying the various blonde beauties that surrounded him, or relaxing with a glass of wine while hidden in a corner of a theater, watching whatever performance was being put up that week.

Alistair wasn’t surprised, however. If he hadn’t seen Jean Nott hard at work, he would’ve started to doubt his reputation as the leader of the Serpents. For such a massive underground assassins’ guild, it seemed to run fairly well with their figurehead gallivanting off, enjoying his best life in random kingdoms.

"I wasn’t aware you were busy," Alistair said, eyeing the documents on the desk. He understood absolutely nothing that was on the parchment; it didn’t stop him from looking either way.

Jean noticed Alistair’s lingering gaze, merely smirking in response without lifting his head to even spare the prince a glance. He wrote something then dipped his quill back into the pot of ink once he was done, finally lifting his eyes to meet Alistair’s gaze.

He smiled. "I wasn’t aware I had to tell you," he said back. Leaning back in his seat, he placed his elbows on the armrest, pressing the tips of his fingers together. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"The week has ended," Alistair said. "I am here to get the next dose."

"Ah, right." Jean nodded. "The next dose, yes. But why should I give you the next dose?"

Alistair clenched his jaw, his teeth pressing so tightly together that they might shatter if they were any weaker.

"Because that was the deal," Alistair replied. "You said you would help heal my hand back to what it was before."

"And I have kept up my end of the bargain thus far, have I not?" Jean responded. He looked pointedly at the stub of a hand Alistair had, raising an eyebrow. "It looks to be growing fairly well."

"It’s not fully healed."

"Of course it isn’t." Jean’s reply was immediate. "You, on the other hand, unlike me, have not kept your promise. We made a deal and I wasn’t paid for my services."

Met with Alistair’s silence, Jean sat up straighter and reached for another piece of paper from the pile. He began to write again, scribbling words from an unknown language before setting them to one side. The action repeated over and over, each on a different parchment with different lines and images, none of which Alistair could understand.

Once again, the prince that had fallen from glory felt like a toad sitting at the bottom of a well. He could see the bright sky outside but was barred from understanding how everything worked.

Prince Alistair finally understood how Daphne felt growing up. The thought was sickening. The tables had turned and he was desperate to turn it back so that the world could once again be righted on its axis.

"Your payment is due, Your Highness," Jean finally said, not looking up from the documents he was reading through. "Unless you are here to cough up what you’ve oh so generously promised weeks ago, perhaps you should leave. As you can see, I am busy and in no state to entertain unwanted guests."

Unwanted guests.

Alistair’s eyelid twitched with irritation. Every fiber of his body demanded he walk over and flip the table upside down so as to scatter whatever it was Jean was looking through. However, he still needed to be on this man’s good side. Once he had his hand back, once he was reinstated as the crown prince of Reaweth, he could easily squash this ignorantly arrogant plebeian.

"Why are you so obsessed with Daphne?" Alistair asked with a scoff. He had questioned Jean Nott about this numerous times now, yet the latter had never given him a straight reply.

As usual, Jean Nott merely smiled. He finally looked up, his eyes serene and his expression tranquil. If a stranger had chanced upon him right now, they might’ve even thought that Jean Nott was an ordinary man with a compassionate heart.

At least, he was able to play that part exceptionally well. It was no wonder that Alistair’s sister had fallen so easily into this snake’s trap when they had first met. Daphne, a sheltered princess, could’ve never been able to differentiate between a genuine person and a scheming one.

On the other hand, Jean Nott’s smile merely made Alistair’s skin crawl.

"Are you ever going to be tired of asking this question, Prince Alistair?" Jean asked. "I am sure I have answered you before at least once through the numerous times you’ve interrogated me."

"I wouldn’t call it an interrogation," Alistair said. "Just curiosity."

"Some things men shouldn’t be too curious about," Jean replied. "Do you have anything else worthwhile you would like to say while you’re here, Your Highness? If not, the door is right there. Please see yourself out. We could perhaps adjourn for tea and crumpets on a different day."

Alistair took a deep breath.

"I have what you want," he said.

Jean’s quill paused right where it was, causing a splotch of ink to land on the parchment.

"What did you say?"

"You wanted Daphne," Alistair said. He watched as Jean slowly lifted his eyes from the parchment, meeting his gaze straight on.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed together, knitting tightly to create creases in the skin of his forehead. He frowned, his eyes slightly squinting as he observed Alistair’s expression as if he were trying to read his mind.

Just in case Jean Nott truly did find a way to invent mindreading, Alistair made sure to keep his thoughts blank. He didn’t want to risk anything and he had seen enough insanity that Jean Nott was capable of doing.

"Is that so?" Jean asked. He set his quill down and sat up a little straighter. "Bring her in then. It’s not nice to keep a lady waiting."

Alistair nodded. He then turned to the door, his heart beating at the speed of light inside his chest. It felt like the organ was ready to jump right out of his throat at any second now.

He called in the door’s direction, "Come on in, Sister."