Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 441: The Punished Guilty III

Chapter 441: The Punished Guilty III

The silvery blade glistened under the moonlight, catching the light and reflecting it with a menacing glint. Paired with the maniacal expression that was across Atticus’s face, no one dared to step close; no one dared to even breathe too loudly.

"Atticus, wait! We need him alive!" Sirona yelled from where she stood at the infirmary.

They still needed Zephyr’s wings for Daphne’s medication. If Atticus wasn’t afraid of his wife’s fury once she realized her pet bird and dear friend was dead, then he should at least consider the fact that he was a necessary ingredient in making sure Daphne wouldn’t succumb to her injuries.

Surprisingly, Atticus heard her loud and clear this time. Perhaps he always did, but simply chose to ignore her.

"No matter," he said. A slow deranged grin stretched his lips, his eyes nearly humorous if it weren’t for the oppressive atmosphere he was giving off. He let out a huff, not quite a sigh nor a chuckle, but somewhere in between. "We can always harvest it off his dead body."

Panic flashed across Zephyr’s eyes once he heard Atticus and Sirona’s exchange, causing him to struggle even harder against Atticus’s grip. Yet, he wiggled around just about as effectively like a worm on a hook― absolutely futile. He was trapped without anywhere to escape.

"Daphne..." The name slipped from his lips, his cry for help. Unfortunately, it was a trigger for the man driven insane.

"Don’t you dare utter her name," Atticus growled, squeezing even harder. Zephyr’s face had turned purple and his head felt like it was filled with so much blood it was about to explode. "You have no right! You are the reason why she is on that bed right now. You are the reason why she is slipping between the borders of life and death. You are the reason why our child is dead!"

"Jean Nott―"

"He is just as much to blame," Atticus said, cutting him off. "Oh, don’t you worry. Once I am done with you, I will rip his head off with my own two hands. You’ll have a lovely companion to keep you company on your trip down to hell."

Zephyr’s wings flailed and flapped, trying to fan up some sand and dust to buy him some time. However, just one huff of air from Atticus’s lips and everything was blown back. The griffin had already lost count of the type of magic he had seen this man display ever since they first met― just how many different affinities did he have?

Was he even human?

"Daphne would not forgive you if anything happens to Zephyr," Nereus said from above, glaring down at Atticus below.

He didn’t come down, partly because he was afraid that something might happen to Daphne if there was no one helpful enough in the infirmary, and partly because he knew there was nothing he could do to physically help Zephyr. Without his one eye, he was just about as strong as Princess Cordelia from Nedour― powerful, but nothing but an annoying fly in the face of King Atticus.

"Daphne? Forgive?" Atticus echoed. He slightly released his grip on Zephyr’s neck and the latter immediately gasped for air, breathing heavily as his shoulders heaved. "The question is, would she forgive him for what he had done to her?"

That caused Zephyr’s breathing to still for a second, his blood turning cold in his veins.

"When Daphne learns that her child is gone, when she remembers that this beast that she saved and raised is the reason why we no longer have our would-be-firstborn, would she forgive him or would she agree with my intentions of slaying him just like I should’ve when we first met in the maze," Atticus continued to say.

"Get Queen Lavinia," Sirona murmured to Nereus, whose eye gleamed with panic. Seeing his hesitation, she emphasized, "Now!"

The kelpie dashed off, jaw clenched and fingers wrapped tightly into a fist. He disappeared down the corridors, searching desperately for someone who knew where Queen Lavinia’s chambers were.

Meanwhile, Atticus already had the tip of the saber pointed at Zephyr’s throat. The griffin stopped struggling, fear taking control of him as he stared helplessly at the blade. He wanted to move — it shouldn’t be that hard to roll out of Atticus’s strike zone — but he soon realized that it wasn’t simple panic that had him tied down to that spot.

Atticus had used his magic to bind him down, holding him in place like a chicken for slaughter. It was just as the degrading nickname the Vramidian king had always used on him― Zephyr felt like he was just a piece of meat on the chopping board, waiting for the chef to bring the knife down to his flesh.

"You should be praying for death," Atticus said, laughing. There was no hint of joy in his voice, nor was there any mirth. It was filled with mockery and contempt, things that curdled Zephyr’s blood and caused his stomach to coil uncomfortably. "After all, death would be more merciful than what I am about to do to you."

Without saying another word, Atticus raised the saber above his head, causing Zephyr to shut his eyes.

The crowd was silent, lest for the scream that tore through the crowd.

"King Atticus, stop!"

But it was too little, too late.

Atticus brought down the blade, aided by the purplish aura of his obsidian ring, adding force to drive the weapon right through Zephyr’s right wing like a butcher’s knife through flesh and bone.

Zephyr’s scream tore through the palace, his howls so loud that even the birds roosting in the trees nearby all flitted away in fear. Blood splashed across the lawn and even over Atticus’s clothes before eventually pooling under Zephyr’s body.

Eventually, the pain was numbed away by adrenaline. Yet, it didn’t cease the panic that filled Zephyr’s body when he could no longer feel his right wing― a limb of his that he could easily control and maneuver to his own free will. What was there was now gone, left with a stub that bled out and throbbed.

Atticus bent down, releasing Zephyr from his magic while using his ring to pick up the severed wing from the ground.

"This is what you owe her," Atticus whispered right by his ear. "Consider yourself lucky― I could’ve taken them both."

With that said and done, Atticus walked off, completely ignoring Cordelia and Queen Lavinia’s horrified expressions as he walked past them, Zephyr’s blood still dripping from the detached wing and staining the grass beneath.