Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 439: The Punished Guilty I

Chapter 439: The Punished Guilty I

"Unhand him immediately!"

Almost at once, all the guards moved away, leaving a huge space to move about. Swords were immediately sheathed and the heads were immediately turned down as a sign of respect and apology.

Atticus cared not for their little false display― he doubted the guards truly cared whether or not the man they had just pointed their swords at was the king of Vramid. They were probably only worried for their own necks if Atticus chose to retaliate.

Either way, it was mildly hilarious that they thought a few pieces of sharpened steel could do any harm to Jean Nott, much less Atticus. If the mood was any better, Atticus might even laugh and mock them for their foolishness.

Alas, he had no time for such petty things.

"Where is my wife?" he demanded, his voice low and ominous. In the glint of the sparse moonlight, his golden eyes seemed to glow like a wild beast, red lines coloring the whites of his eyes like a demonic entity that had crawled straight up from hell.

"This way, Your Majesty."

Atticus followed that one knight who had the courage to speak up while all the others didn’t. In silence, they quickly crossed corridors until they eventually stopped right in front of the infirmary doors.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Without even knocking, Atticus pushed right in, slamming the doors open and causing those inside to jump from fright. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the various healers before eventually on familiar faces. He continued to search the room until he finally spotted Daphne on the bed.

At first, his heart skipped a beat. Was he too late? Did Queen Lavinia and Sirona fail? They were two of the strongest healers he knew― Queen Lavinia’s hydromancy was never used for offense but defense. She had great healing abilities when it came to water, the source of life. She couldn’t have failed, especially when paired with the great mind of Sirona, right?

Then, all panic left Atticus when he noticed the rise and fall of Daphne’s chest. Her breathing was steady and rhythmic. She was alive.

That was all that mattered.

"Heavens, Atticus, you’re finally here," Sirona said with a gasp. She quickly crossed the room, walking over to her king. Queen Lavinia, who was previously engaged in conversation with Sirona, came over as well, and they all stood by Daphne’s bed.

"How is she?" Atticus croaked, his voice cracking at the end as emotions overwhelmed him.

He didn’t even want to think of the baby Daphne was carrying. It hadn’t formed yet. There was no need to get attached to something Sirona had warned him could be easily gone. But Daphne.

His darling wife.

She had to be alive and well. If anything, she had to survive.

"Asleep," Queen Lavinia responded. They all turned to look at Daphne. "I gave her some medication and the bleeding stopped. She will still periodically bleed to pass out what’s inside her body, but if given constant medication to replenish her blood and heal, she should be fine after a couple of weeks."

"Thank you," Atticus said. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, his mouth dry and unable to reach for any other words but that of gratitude.

"I am sorry for your loss," Queen Lavinia mumbled.

"Daphne is alive," Atticus replied. "That’s all that matters."

"I will leave you all some space, in that case," Queen Lavinia said. She walked off after, with the horde of Xahan healers trailing after her, closing the door that Atticus had nearly busted down previously so that they would be given some privacy.

"What happened?" Atticus seethed, his hands clenched into fists at his side. "Jean Nott. Why was his name mentioned?"

"Where did you hear that?" Sirona asked, surprised.

"The guards," Atticus said, "When I returned to the palace, they thought that I was Jean Nott."

Sirona could only sigh as she recounted the story Zephyr and Nereus had explained prior to Atticus’s arrival. His face only became gloomier and gloomier with every detail, until eventually, he looked like a storm cloud had passed through his features.

"Queen Lavinia created a potion that would help with Daphne’s recovery, but it would require an ingredient that is... controversial," Sirona said.

"Controversial how?"

Sirona’s lips tightened into a straight line before she turned to stare at Zephyr. The griffin and kelpie stood near the windows, speaking to one another in hushed whispers. As if they had felt Sirona’s stare, they turned to look at her, curious.

"At first, Queen Lavinia suggested using griffin blood to help with nourishment and replenishment of blood," Sirona said. "But she ruled it out as it would be too taxing for Zephyr’s body. The only other way would be to use his feathers."

"How fitting," Atticus murmured under his breath. "Two birds with one stone."

"There’s something else."

"What is it?"

"Nereus mentioned that Zephyr and Daphne fell after Jean Nott used his magic against them. I don’t think it’s that simple," she said.

"So you’re saying that there is a different reason for Daphne’s fall?" Atticus questioned and his frown deepened.

"Yes. While the fall might not be what caused the miscarriage, I do believe that it was what triggered it. The baby could’ve been saved if she hadn’t fallen right on her stomach. With it being her first trimester and how frail the child was, it wouldn’t have survived with all that stacked against them."

"What actually happened, then?"

Sirona sighed. Her voice then lowered even softer, knowing that Zephyr and Nereus had heightened hearing that could easily catch her words if she spoke any louder than she did.

"Zephyr seemed afraid when Daphne was brought in. He could’ve been fearful for her safety, or―"

"Scared of being caught," Atticus finished her sentence for her.

"Yes," Sirona said with a nod. "I have reason to believe that he’s the reason why she fell."

The rest of Sirona’s unspoken words were clear.

Zephyr was the reason why their child was dead.

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