Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 444: All In Her Head I

Chapter 444: All In Her Head I

When Daphne woke up again, it was the dead of the night.

She wasn’t sure what it was she heard first― was it the rustle of the curtains flapping due to the breeze? Or perhaps it was the sound of a quill against parchment, scribbling down notes after a long day.

There was a bit of light, just that of a small flame placed on the table of the head healer’s desk, currently occupied by a man Daphne did not recognize. Beside him, there were two others hovering around the shelves, seemingly taking inventory of the medical supplies.

Daphne blinked once, then twice, then exhaled heavily. She could feel a subtle throb in her lower abdomen, thumping as though she had a bruise that was being constantly pressed on. Yet, she didn’t have the strength to sit up and have a look at what was wrong. Instead, she merely raised a hand and rubbed her eyes.

Her head was pounding. She felt as though she had just consumed her father’s collection of fine wines and hard liquor all in one sitting. In fact, her entire body felt heavy and lethargic, weighted down by an unknown force that kept her from springing up.

That was when she realized― when was the last time she had been up and about?

The door to the infirmary clicked open and she cracked open an eye to have a look. Through the half-drawn curtains that separated her bed from the others, she could see the man at the desk stand up to his feet. He bowed respectfully, as did the other men.

"Your Majesty," the man said, placing his quill down in the pot of ink before he spoke. "Good evening."

"How is she?" It was a voice that Daphne couldn’t be more than familiar with.

Atticus walked into her line of view, turning his head over to glance at where Daphne was. When he realized that she had her hand raised to her face, his eyes widened. Even in the dark and from this distance, Daphne could clearly see the glow from his golden eyes. They had their own luminance, shining like stars in the night sky.

"Daphne..." he murmured, and before any of the healers on duty could say anything, he quickly crossed the room and headed for her bedside. He crouched down, holding her hand in his tenderly as though he was afraid that if he exerted any more force, he would accidentally crush her.

"Atticus..." Daphne croaked out, his name comforting on her tongue.

The man in question immediately reached for the pitcher of water by her bed, pouring her a glass before helping her up to take a sip.

Daphne winced, gritting her teeth through the pain as she sat up. She would’ve preferred to lie down a little more, as it was much more comfortable, but her parched throat was crying out for reprieve. She felt as though she had been traversing the deserts for months and this was her first sip from the oasis’s springs.

"Get Sirona," Atticus immediately barked to the healers, and without another reminder, the man leaped from their spots and dashed out of the room to follow his command. Only after did Atticus turn back to his wife, helping her find a comfortable spot she could rest in. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Horrible," she replied honestly. "What happened? I remember being out in the gardens with Nereus and Zephyr... then... I think I saw Jean Nott..."

Her eyes shot open and her lips parted, gripping Atticus’s arm tightly. A blast of pain immediately shot through her body and she recoiled, her face twisted into a grimace.

"Be careful," he hurriedly said. "You’re still recovering."

"Jean Nott..." Daphne said through gritted teeth. She exhaled deeply, trying to regulate the pain before she looked up at Atticus’s eyes. "He was in Xahan’s royal palace. You must tell King Calarian!"

"Rest assured, they are already aware," Atticus replied. "We have both sent men to investigate Jean Nott’s whereabouts. He will be caught very soon."

"Why does my body hurt so badly?" Daphne asked. She placed her hand over her stomach, rubbing it and hoping that the warmth of her hand could help ease the pain. Perhaps it was just a placebo but the ache on her stomach slowly began to fade away.

The glow in Atticus’s eyes dimmed. "What do you remember?"

"Not much," Daphne admitted. "Nereus and Zephyr were with me in the gardens, I think. We were talking when Jean Nott showed up. I can’t remember what he said, but we got into a fight," Daphne recalled, frowning. "I think he shot ice at us. I recall falling." Her body stiffened. "Are Nereus and Zephyr alright?"

"They’re... fine," Atticus said. Daphne did not like the hesitance in his voice, but she didn’t get a chance to question it before he continued. "What else do you remember?"

"Nothing after," she mumbled. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to think back, but whenever she dug a little deeper, a piercing headache would shoot through her skull. It felt as though she was getting stabbed everywhere― her head, her stomach, and even her chest felt a little suffocated. "Did I get hit by the ice? Why does it hurt everywhere?"

Atticus’s lips tightened into a straight line as he silently watched Daphne. He was still struggling for a reply when Sirona suddenly burst into the infirmary, making a beeline for Daphne’s bed.

"Daphne!" she cried out, huffing. Her clothes were a mess, most likely due to the fact that she must’ve been rudely dragged out of bed by the news of her awakening. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Daphne said, "And tired. But just... really sore."

Sirona’s hands clenched into fists by her side, her expression apologetic. "I’m sorry for―"

"Sirona," Atticus said, cutting her off. Sirona turned to face Atticus, raising an eyebrow in confusion. He continued, but this time, directing his words at Daphne. He smiled softly, patting her head a few times as she relished in the warmth of his hand. "I need to have a word with Sirona. We’ll be right back."

"Go," Daphne said. She snuggled further into the pillows, her eyes slightly hooded over. "I’ll wait here."

Atticus leaned down and left a kiss against her temple before he strode out of the room. Sirona followed after, tactfully shutting the door behind her.

"What is it?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest. "I should be examining her condition immediately. We’re not too sure yet if the miscarriage―"

"Don’t speak of that in front of her," Atticus said.

"What?"

"The baby," Atticus explained. "She seems to have forgotten."