Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 449: Zephyr’s Guilt

Chapter 449: Zephyr’s Guilt

"Jean Nott? What did he do?" Daphne demanded frantically.

She quickly looked around, half-expecting Jean Nott to descend from the ceiling to finish Zephyr off. Daphne couldn’t recall anything of their earlier confrontation, but if there was anyone who could hurt Zephyr, it would be someone as ingeniously cruel as Jean Nott.

This was the man who set a dragon on the loose and knowingly turned Alistair into a bloodsucking monstrosity. There were no depths to his depravity.

Sirona’s eyes were grim. "He attacked you and Zephyr with his ice magic, and your bodies reacted very poorly to it. It got to a point where you and Zephyr both lost quite a lot of blood because his magic was directly hindering our attempts to heal you with traditional methods. Why, we even had to build a campfire to help Zephyr recover."

The best lies had an inch of truth in them. If Daphne was well enough to interrogate the servants, they would tell her there was indeed a campfire built.

Daphne’s mouth fell open in surprise. "How could this even happen?"

She had experienced Jean’s magic before, back when he tried to kidnap her during the Crown Conquest, and when he recently paid her a visit in her bedroom. Both times, she had been terrified, but her body didn’t feel extraordinarily wounded.

Then again, the wrist did feel strangely cold, and her body was lethargic after she tried to use her powers to chase him off. Perhaps Jean Nott returned and decided to do more than grab her hand. Her body would certainly suffer from his attacks.

Maybe her recent lapse in memory was also due to his efforts.

"But Zephyr is a magical creature, he shouldn’t be susceptible to Jean’s magic like I am, " Daphne said, sensing inconsistencies in Sirona’s logic. "And even if he was, he should have recovered quicker than I did. Can’t you transform him back into his griffin form and heal him again?"

It was risky, but now that she was awake, she could ensure that Zephyr’s wings weren’t harvested by her husband.

"We offered, but Zephyr refused," Sirona said, knowing full well she had done nothing of that sort. Once she turned Zephyr into his griffin form, there would be no explaining the missing wing. "He seems to believe this was an appropriate punishment for him to atone for his mistakes."

"Punishment?" Daphne squawked with outrage. "Whatever for? There’s no mistake he could make that deserves this!"

Sirona internally scoffed. If only Atticus felt that way.

"It was Zephyr who had indirectly caused your injuries to worsen. If Jean Nott had laid the trap, it was Zephyr who pushed you into it," Sirona replied evenly.

"That’s impossible," Daphne immediately retorted in disbelief. But Sirona continued to explain.

"When we stumbled upon you, you were lying on the floor in a pool of your own blood, with icicles embedded in your body. Apparently, Jean Nott had created icicles that jutted from the floor. And Zephyr had accidentally caused you to land on them. It could have been due to his weight, or his wings. Regardless of the reason, the icicles stabbed straight into your body, causing massive bleeding in your system. You even went into severe shock."

"You nearly died because of him. I believe that’s why he has been starving himself," Sirona finished quietly. "He felt guilty that his body was too heavy; if he didn’t weigh as much, the fall wouldn’t have hurt you as badly."

"Zephyr..." Daphne staggered weakly towards Zephyr’s bedside, cradling one of his hands with her own.

He was so cold, and his skin felt too thin― it almost felt like she could tear through his skin with her fingernails. His name escaped Daphne’s lips in a sob as she stared down at him, tears welling in her eyes.

She finally understood why Zephyr looked like he was on the verge of death and why he had refused to visit her for the longest time; why he tried to refuse her offer of eating with him when eating together was one of their beloved pastimes together.

Why he didn’t he have his wings with him when he loved to fly more than anything else.

If he had knocked into her with them, seeing his wings would have been rubbing salt in a wound.

Her poor boy. She reached out another hand to stroke his cheek, tears rolling down her cheeks. "How could you be so foolish? It’s not your fault... It’s Jean Nott’s fault. Sirona, can you help him recover?"

"I’ll do my best," Sirona promised, "But in my humble opinion, Zephyr would heal faster once he knows you bear no grudge against him. His guilt has been eating him up from the inside."

"I’ll tell him," Daphne sniffled, wiping her eyes dry. She squeezed Zephyr’s hand tightly, as though she could transmit her life force to him with sheer will. "Zephyr, can you hear me? I don’t blame you at all. Please recover. Please..."

Unfortunately, Zephyr did not respond to her impassioned pleas. He had used up too much energy during his earlier breakdown and was now completely dead to the world. Only the slight movement of his chest highlighted that he was still breathing.

"Daphne, you should go," Sirona ordered, this time more firmly. "We need the space to work, and there’s nothing you can do for him now. We’ll let you know the moment he wakes up."

Daphne could only nod. With one final glance at Zephyr’s sleeping face, she reluctantly pulled her hand free from his and dragged her weary feet back to her own bed. Sirona and the other healers descended on Zephyr like vultures on a rotting corpse; Daphne cursed her mind for putting that image in her head.

There was nothing that she could do for Zephyr but pray. As Daphne tried to rest, there was a niggling thought in her mind that refused to vanish.

Throughout Sirona’s explanation, she had not mentioned a single hint about the mysterious baby.