Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 483: An Incurable Disease

Chapter 483: An Incurable Disease

Every thud, every beat, Daphne could feel it prominently beneath her palm and her fingers. Atticus’s heart was right there, an ever-present sign of his humanity― and in this case, his love and devotion for her. She wondered, just briefly, if she actually used magic to go through with it and killed him, would he allow her? Or would he fight back, with his words nothing but for show?

Magic tingled on the tips of her fingers at the mere thought. It would be so simple to end this tyrant once and for all. At the same time, end the husband whom she vowed to protect, to stand by, and to love.

She was sure that Atticus was sensitive enough to the sparks of magic that had triggered on her fingertips, but he didn’t even flinch. He simply stood still, watching Daphne in silence as the others stared in bated breaths. Atticus practically had his arms wide open, ready to receive a possible death sentence.

In the end, Daphne simply applied a little bit of pressure to push Atticus back. He hadn’t expected the light shove and stumbled back a little all while watching her with eyes of surprise. Daphne, however, didn’t meet his gaze. She whirled around and grasped Zephyr by the arm, pulling him out of the room with her and leaving Atticus, Jonah, and Sirona stunned.

"Did my wife just escape with another man?" Atticus blankly asked, staring at the door where Daphne and Zephyr had disappeared past.

"That’s what you’re worried about?!" Jonah all but shrieked. "She could’ve killed you!"

"She wouldn’t," Atticus immediately said. "She’s too good for that."

"You were betting your life on the goodness of her heart?" Sirona asked with a snort. "Humans are finicky creatures, Your Majesty. Push her hard enough and she might just bite back."

"I wasn’t betting my life on it," Atticus said, scoffing. "I meant it when I said she had the power to kill me and I would gladly take whatever she is willing to serve."

Jonah threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "That’s it!" He lamented, "Our king has gone mad! Sirona, quick, do something about him!"

Sirona merely leisurely folded her arms as she leaned against the wall, rolling her eyes as a small smirk crept onto her lips.

"Unfortunately, Jonah, I cannot."

"You’re a miracle healer, with and without your magic! I am sure you’re more than capable of doing so."

"Ah, but you see," Sirona’s eyes sparkled, "love is an incurable disease. And our king has got it bad."

***

"Daphne!" Zephyr screeched out as he was hulled by Daphne, left with no choice but to dutifully follow behind. Even with his long legs and need for speed, she was going a little too fast for Zephyr to keep up without panting. "Slow down!"

Daphne only halted abruptly in her steps when she nearly collided face-first with a servant who was rushing down the corridor. After a seemingly endless exchange of profuse apologies, Daphne finally led Zephyr to the garden, this time, much slower.

She sighed and sat down heavily on the stone bench, burrowing her face into her hands as the sun beat down mercilessly against the back of her neck.

Good.

She wanted nothing more than to shrivel up in the burning sun and die.

When a sudden shade came over her, she peeked out from between the cracks of her fingers. Zephyr had extended his wing to use it as a parasol, shielding her from the sun’s raging golden rays of light. His shadow offered some cool reprieve, and Daphne couldn’t help but smile at him, albeit a little weakly.

"What am I going to do, Zephyr?" she asked. "I am lost. I haven’t been very sure of myself right from the beginning but now, it feels horrible to have no bearing after finding what I thought was the shore."

Zephyr merely stayed silent. What more could he say? He was afraid of saying the wrong things when it seemed like Daphne merely wanted to vent her emotions. Perhaps if Nereus was here, he could impart some wise words of wisdom. Unfortunately, Zephyr had lost a lot of the spunk from before. Now that his wings were back to normal, he wasn’t looking to offend that madman again.

However...

"I don’t blame him."

"What?" Daphne asked, looking up at Zephyr in confusion.

"I said," he repeated, a little more firmly this time, "I don’t blame King Atticus for what he has done to my wings."

"Zephyr!" Daphne looked more appalled than Zephyr was. "How could you say that?"

"I deserved it," Zephyr continued. "It was indeed because of me that you’ve lost your child. I am just as responsible for it as Jean Nott was. And you only have the heart to forgive me because you’re kind, and also because you’re pinning the blame on your crazy husband instead."

He weakly smiled, but the way he fiddled with his thumbs was a clear enough sign to Daphne that Zephyr was feeling any and everything but smiley inside.

"If anything, King Atticus relieved me of my guilt. A wing for what could’ve been the royal heir of Vramid. It feels like a fair exchange."

Words clogged Daphne’s throat as she shook her head, aghast. She supposed she understood Zephyr’s point, but also, she couldn’t imagine what he must’ve gone through to be able to so readily forgive Atticus like that. The Zephyr she knew was proud, bombastic, and carefree. Now, it seemed like every word and every action he made was filled with calculation and fear.

If it were under any better circumstances, Daphne would even think that Zephyr had finally grown up and matured. It was still utterly heartbreaking, of course, to watch him have to lose his childlike innocence for the world.

"He didn’t have to take your wing," Daphne said, standing by her point. "You could’ve talked to me."

"No, I don’t think I could’ve." Zephyr smiled. Yet, it was filled with needles all over.

Daphne recalled the way he had acted when he visited during her period of recovery. That version of Zephyr was not only physically weak but mentally broken as well. He hadn’t forgiven himself, even after Daphne had forgiven and forgotten about the entire ordeal.

Just like Daphne.

Even though he had his wing back, she still felt indebted to him. If she had never brought him back, or if Daphne had released him into the wild after he had grown old enough to care for himself, perhaps Zephyr wouldn’t have needed to go through all that pain.

Yet, if it wasn’t Zephyr, it would’ve been another griffin.

It seemed like Zephyr thought the same as well.

"I’d rather it be me," he said. "If King Atticus didn’t take my wing, he would have to hunt down an innocent griffin. With me, at least, he had every right. I owe him at least that. But what wrong would the wild griffin have done to receive such a punishment?"

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