Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 344: Monster On The Loose III

Chapter 344: Monster On The Loose III

"Atticus," Daphne gently called out. When her mother stepped away, she placed a hand on her husband’s and carefully pulled him back to stand by her side rather than ahead, poised to protect her. "Not now. We have to deal with Hazelle’s body. As well as Alistair’s possible whereabouts."

"What of Alistair?" Luis asked, having been hiding behind his parents and sister the entire time. "Speaking of which, where is he?"

"Did you just notice he is missing, you dimwit?" Atticus said with a scoff. He folded his arms across his chest, huffing as Daphne began to run her hand up and down his back in an attempt to placate him.

"He’s most likely the main culprit behind this," Leonora said, huffing. "I knew he despised Hazelle but I never thought he would do something like that. She must’ve said something."

"What could she possibly say to induce such carnage?" Daphne said, aghast. She, too, didn’t like Hazelle when the latter was alive but it didn’t mean that Daphne stood for such blatant victim-blaming.

"Your Majesties, Prince Alistair was most likely poisoned."

All at once, several heads turned to face Prince Nathaniel, watching as he fiddled with the empty vials that had been found in Alistair and Hazelle’s bedroom. He held up the glass bottles, placing them in full view for the others to see.

"Poisoned?" King Cyrus echoed after him, his face darkening. "Who dares to poison Reaweth’s prince?"

"Himself," Nathaniel swiftly replied.

Before King Cyrus could flare up and declare war on Raxuvia for the insult against his son, Nathaniel launched into a lengthy explanation on the negative side effects of cinnabar, on top of the positives, and how he could’ve been using it to treat his missing hand.

Nathaniel recounted the story of his experiments with the field mice and how the animals had gone insane after the cinnabar exposure. The violent vampiric tendencies the mice had displayed were eerily similar to what had happened with Hazelle and Alistair. Sirona’s test results also proved the theory.

The dots had connected and everything had its parallel.

"If this is indeed a case of cinnabar poisoning, then I am afraid Prince Alistair is too far gone to be saved," Nathaniel grimly said. "There is no available cure for cinnabar poisoning― even the poisons themselves are rarely seen, since cinnabar is hard to come around. The studies on this ore are rare and outdated."

"Then what can we do?" Queen Anette asked shakily. "If Alistair is out there, is there no more hope to save him?"

"Your Majesty, there might be nothing more to save," Sirona said, stepping in. "The cinnabar will corrupt his mind. He is no longer the son you once knew."

The Queen’s face paled as she fell back into her husband’s hold. Her lips quivered, tears threatening to spill from her cheeks.

"Frankly," Prince Nathaniel said, his eyes downcast, "there might be nothing more to save."

***

Silas collapsed against the bed, his chest heaving up and down rapidly as pleasure washed over his body. The woman beside him was equally out of breath but her hands were disloyal, continuously trailing up and down his toned chest while tracing circles into his skin.

"Lottie," Silas said, his voice playfully teasing. It carried a hint of warning― not that it was anything serious. He loved the flirtatiously playful way Lottie often carried herself.

"You’re an absolute beast, Your Highness," Lottie said, her lips curling. "Have you been stressed out lately?"

She climbed up, the silk sheets slipping from her body and onto the bed. Golden sunlight was cast against her skin, and just like many other times, Lottie resembled a goddess who had descended from the heavens above. As she moved, her hips sashayed back and forth until she eventually knelt behind Silas and placed his head on her lap.

"Close your eyes and relax, Your Highness," she cooed.

Silas did as he was told and his body entirely relaxed the moment Lottie pressed her fingers against his temple and began to gently rub circles into his skin. Her movements were expertly calculated, having done it before many other times, and Silas felt all the tension leave his body in an instant.

Lottie asked, her voice soft and gentle, "Would you like to talk about what’s got you so bothered? I can be a good listening ear."

"Aren’t the ladies of the brothels excellent gossip-mongers as well?" Silas questioned, eliciting a chuckle from Lottie.

"Oh, of course not," Lottie said. "We know what can be said and what can’t. If it’s matters of the palace, I’m smart enough to know that it needs to be a secret I’ll have to take to the grave."

Silas nodded, smiling. He didn’t open his eyes but he knew that Lottie’s expression most likely reflected his own.

"My brother has been a little sick recently," Silas said, sighing. "I have a feeling it’s the concoction that Nott’s been making him drink. I heard that there’s cinnabar in it and it can be... harmful, to say the least. The human body isn’t made to withstand such a potent ore."

Lottie remained silent and Silas took that as a sign to continue.

"I am starting to think that it’s a mistake introducing Alistair to Nott. I am not sure for how much longer he will be able to retain his sanity."

A drop of warm liquid landed on Silas’s cheeks. Had his story been so touching that she cried? He hadn’t even said much. Her hands had even stopped moving.

Another droplet landed and then another. Silas raised a hand and wiped the liquid away from his face, though it remained unceasingly constant. His eyes instinctively opened, ready to wipe the tears away from Lottie’s eyes before offering bodily comfort. However, the sight that greeted him had his words clogged right in his throat.

Lottie’s head was tilted to one side, completely exposing her neck. A man latched onto her, his face pressed into the crook of her neck. The longer he stayed, the more she paled. Her lips were parted wide open, poised in an inaudible scream as her eyes stared helplessly ahead.

Blood dripped from her neck and Silas soon realized that not only did the man press his face against her skin, but his mouth was also on her, teeth embedded right in her blood vessels.

When the blood-sucking monster slightly shifted his head as he adjusted his position, Silas caught sight of who it was that had committed such a heinous act.

As fate would have it, it was none other than the older brother Silas had just spoken of.

Alistair.

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