Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 371: Die Trying I

Chapter 371: Die Trying I

"Let it be said that I do not approve of this in the least," Atticus grumbled as they prepared to head out, watching Daphne put on a suit of mesh armor underneath her dress. The mesh armor was made out of many tiny metal links weaved into soft leather, and it covered nearly every inch of exposed skin other than her face.

Daphne personally thought that it was an overkill, but Atticus on the other hand thought it was too little. If he had things his way, Daphne would be walking out in a full set of armor with an entire bevy of trained guards surrounding her at every given moment.

But that would defeat the purpose of using her as bait. Daphne was supposed to look approachable, a vulnerable young queen coming to reassure her citizens, dispense aid to the needy, and mourn the departed.

So instead of a full set of steel armor, Daphne put on a periwinkle blue dress with long billowing sleeves and a high neckline. There were pockets lined in her sleeves, where a tiny syringe was tucked safely inside so that she could quickly draw it out if necessary.

"Yes, Atticus, my dearest husband, you’ve told me that many times in the past hour," Daphne replied in a long-suffering tone, as though Atticus was a nagging housewife and she the tired husband. "Once again, I have listened to your objections but I am still proceeding with this plan for a lack of better options. And you’ll be there lying in wait, along with my sister’s best soldiers and Nereus."

Atticus scowled, but he could not argue otherwise. His alternative proposed idea was to raze towns to the ground to draw out Alistair, and that was shot down by everyone at the table, including the talking head.

"I think... please be careful," Atticus said with a heavy sigh, coming around to embrace Daphne from the back. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple and rested his chin on her shoulder while she adjusted her dress, making sure no hints of the armor showed underneath the fabric. "You just recovered from a grave ordeal. I don’t want you to get hurt again."

"I understand," Daphne said, stroking the underside of his chin and planting a kiss on his lips. "But I have recovered enough to conjure small flames. I’m not entirely helpless. And you’ll also be there, hiding. Now go get the maids to help me with my hair."

Atticus sighed again but obediently stalked off to do as she asked.

In no time at all, Daphne was fully prepared. She had purposely got people to leak the news that she would be out and about in Wethstadt to pay her respects to the dead and she would not like to be disturbed. Citizens should line up at the center square after for their handouts.

Alistair wouldn’t be able to resist.

***

Wethstadt was a ghost town. The streets were silent, heavy with death and decay. The air was still filled with soot from the multiple funeral pyres that had been lit up to burn the dead after they realized they didn’t have enough room to bury the dead townspeople in individual graves.

That was a sobering thought. Daphne’s boots stepped over the cobblestones, and she could sense countless eyes staring at her through the gaps in their boarded windows, their fear palpable even from a distance.

It wouldn’t be long before things regained normalcy, she promised herself. Once Alistair was taken care of, she would make sure that Wethstadt would rebuild stronger than ever.

Daphne felt her heart ache for these poor innocent townspeople, whose lives were uprooted simply because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. Her hands subconsciously tightened around the flower bouquet in her hands as she made her way to the red light district, the most renowned place of Alistair’s destruction, the place where he first ambushed Silas.

Knowing Alistair’s ego, he wouldn’t miss the chance to hunt down another one of his siblings at the same location. He was a wild beast, but his arrogance would never waver no matter what he became.

Daphne put down the flowers and clasped her hands together. She spoke softly as if she was alone and at peace, but her eyes were on the ground.

"Dear God, may the dearly departed find comfort and peace in the afterlife, and please bring comfort and peace to those who mourn their loss."

A shadow shifted, its claws impossibly long. Daphne’s hands went to her sleeves, but she made it look natural.

"Thank you for your mercy―"

The sky darkened, and Daphne felt the phantom touch of claws brushing through her hair. She ducked and whirled around, immediately firing a flame to the skies.

True enough, it hit none other than her wayward beastly brother, who snarled at the surprised ambush. His skin peeled a bright red at the heat. Daphne didn’t waste any time, she fired another blast and ran.

Her flames weren’t as powerful as before, so she had to make sure that every blast counted. She sped up, purposely luring him to an open area, where Atticus was waiting in the skies.

This would be a job better meant for Zephyr, but with his illness, no one felt comfortable about risking him. The most damage Zephyr could do right now would probably just be sneezing in Alistair’s face.

"Daphne... I’ll drain you dry!" Alistair roared behind her back, putting a burst of speed as he chased down the thorn in his side. Even in the haze of his animalistic rage, he recognized Daphne as the person responsible for everything wrong in his life.

Once he killed her, everything would be perfect. He would suck out all her blood and rip her from limb to limb!

Alistair’s claws raked down her back as she found herself pinned down by him like a mouse under a cat’s paw. Daphne struggled, trying to reach for the syringe in her sleeves, but there was no room for her to pull it out. There was a loud rip; Alistair’s claws had torn through the soft fabric of her dress, causing it to split, and his claws dug into the soft leather.

Alistair snarled; he was going to sink his fangs into her covered neck or die trying!

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