Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 49: Flames of Fury

Chapter 49: Flames of Fury

[TW: Violence & Suggested Sexual Assault]

Stumbling to her feet, Daphne made a mad dash towards the door. Unfortunately, while she was small and agile, she still wasn’t fast enough compared to a seasoned mercenary that had years of violent experience under his belt.

Clive reached forward in a few quick steps, grabbing a fistful of Daphne’s hair, causing her to yelp in pain. Her hands reached back instinctively, trying to worm herself free to no avail. With a swing, Clive sent her toppling to her floor, her head harshly hitting against the leg of the table. It hurt badly but thankfully hadn’t knocked her out.

"Maybe the payment really isn’t worth all the trouble," Clive said to himself under his breath. He bent over Daphne, a sadistic smile curving his lips. "Then again, since he’s late, I suppose the rules can indeed be loosened a little. What say we have a bit of fun? I’ve never fucked a queen before."

All of her blood seemed to rush into her head. It felt like her heart was pumping at twice the speed, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Daphne reached back to where she saw the shards, picking up a piece.

In smooth succession, she kicked out one leg, landing her foot solidly against Clive’s chest. She wasn’t strong enough to completely knock him back but it did cause him to shift away from her just a tad bit. Daphne made use of the space, bringing her hand forward and swiping the broken ceramic across Clive’s face. It had done its purpose, carving a fine line across the bridge of his nose, sadly missing his eye due to his quick reflexes.

"Fuck!" The man hissed in pain, running his hand across the wound. When he noticed the blood that coated his fingertips, his vision went red with anger. "You’ll pay for that!"

He lunged towards her, his vein clearly visible on his forehead due to his heightened fury. A sharp tear of fabric resounded across the room amidst Daphne’s horrified screams. Her collar had been torn right open, revealing more of her cleavage than what was modest.

"I was prepared to make it enjoyable for you," he sneered, "but since you’re such a troublesome one, I’ll make sure it hurts. I’ll take joy in killing you after torturing you slowly, painfully, until you are nothing more than a writhing, squirming, worm beneath me."

His entire body hovered over Daphne’s, locking her in place. One of his hands was tightly grasped around her neck, the other squeezing her cheeks tightly until her jaw ached.

Her breath clogged at her throat, causing her lungs to feel like they were set alight. Her hands reached for Clive’s, clawing at his hand that had been placed against her neck. Yet, her strength was no match for him. All she left were futile red lines, courtesy of her nails. It barely even drew blood.

"You will be begging for the sweet release of death," Clive promised, a sinister glow in his eyes. "And you’ll find that even darkness will not welcome you with a warm embrace."

His knees edged further up, moving a little too close to her body. Daphne squeezed her thighs tightly together, squirming violently in his grip. However, she moved no more than a little, barely even enough to shake his huge body off her.

Reveling in her fear, Clive chuckled. He seemed to feed off it, his excitement only growing the more she struggled in his grip. His hands clutched on tighter, causing the skin beneath his fingertips to turn red, almost purple.

"Difficulty breathing?" Clive asked. He didn’t expect a reply, of course― the purple shade of Daphne’s face was enough of an answer. "Perfect. That will make you feel tighter."

Daphne wasn’t too sure what happened next.

All she knew was that her ears suddenly felt like they were on fire, the tingling sensation more of a welcomed warmth than an uncomfortable burn. It started from her ears, slowly moving down her head to her neck, her shoulders, then her hands. Her palms felt as though she was grasping onto a hot iron rod.

Maybe it was because of the adrenaline, maybe it was her fear of death, maybe it was desperation. Whatever it was, it nullified the pain of the burn. In fact, it felt like a rush of raw power. Her blood was boiling.

Ironically, at a point where she was closest to death, Daphne felt the most alive.

There was a bright flash of red and an ear-shattering explosion before everything erupted into chaos.

***

Meanwhile, Eugene wasn’t in a much better state. He looked up at Atticus through the swelling in his left eye and bowed lowly, feeling his limbs ache with every minute movement as guards forced his knees to the floor. Blood from his temple dripped onto the pristine marble floors of the palace, leaving marks of scarlet.

He was starting to regret his decision of approaching Atticus personally. If he had sent someone in his stead, claiming to have been badly injured, perhaps he wouldn’t have suffered the consequences of the king’s wrath.

But there was no time. Every second was precious and could mean fatal for the queen.

"Your Majesty," Eugene said, "I’m sorry that we have to meet under these circumstances."

Atticus stared down at him with a thunderous look on his face, not liking the forced levity in Eugene’s words.

"Speak." Atticus’s one-word command had the whole throneroom plunged into silence. "Where is Daphne?"

"The last time I saw her was at the edge of the southern slums." Eugene hung his head low as he recalled the incident. "A group of men surrounded us and managed to kidnap the queen."

Daphne had taken a blow to the head, and he saw how they dragged her prone body away. None of the slum dwellers bothered to watch further, ducking back into their alleys.

Eugene had been left alone after one last kick to his head. He clearly wasn’t their target. Yet, it didn’t mean that he was let off lightly. He suffered from bruises and cuts all over and his ribs hurt when he breathed in too deeply. He had no doubt that something had snapped in the scuffle.

Atticus snarled and decked Eugene hard enough that he fell to the floor. Eugene could only stumble weakly, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"Useless bastard!" Atticus roared at him, his face twisted with rage. The obsidian stone in his ring thrummed with power, and his guards gave it a wary berth. "How dare you!"

Not only had Eugene Attonson dared to bring his wife out of the castle, he even took her to such a seedy location and got her kidnapped!

"How dare you show your face here after what you’ve done?"

The glow of Atticus’s ring filled the room with an ominous purple brilliance. Eugene was promptly lifted off the ground, seemingly by his neck. The man weakly reached for the invisible fingers, breathlessly grasping at nothingness in an attempt to ease the hold on his throat.

Atticus’s voice was low. "How dare you run back here with your tail between your legs while the queen is out there, her exact whereabouts and wellbeing unknown?"

"We were out for lunch," Eugene choked out, wheezing in pain. "We hadn’t meant to go too far out of the town square and we were attacked soon after."

A glow of orange emanated from Atticus’s pockets. Soon after, the smell of burnt flesh wafted through the air. Where Eugene was held by the neck, a ring of red had appeared on his skin, marked by fire created using magic.

"Then you should’ve died for her there," Atticus glowered, "and not ran back like the coward you are."

The slums. Atticus felt old memories threatening to resurface, weakening his already fragile control. He knew better than anyone what horrors dwelled in those dilapidated buildings. And for Eugene to purposely bring her there...

Was he out to mock him on purpose?

Did he truly not know what dangers it could bring to the queen, a princess of a faraway land who knew no magic?

He couldn’t stand looking at Eugene Attonson a moment longer than necessary.

"Guards, take him to the dungeons."

The glow of the obsidian ring immediately disappeared and Eugene fell to the ground with a thud. His knees landed first, a sickening crunch echoing through the otherwise silent throne room. No one dared to even breathe, afraid that if they made too much noise, they would be the next outlet for the king’s anger.

"He is to await trial for losing the queen."

The guards grabbed his arms, but Eugene wasn’t done speaking.

"Your Highness! Before you lock me up, please let me say this," Eugene cried out, fighting against the pain that enveloped his body in waves. "Those men were purposely after the queen. It sounded like they had us followed right from the very start, waiting to strike."

"If you didn’t take Daphne out of the palace, none of this would have happened." Atticus’ eyes were a maelstrom of emotion. "You’d better hope that Daphne doesn’t suffer any mishap, or I’ll burn your family to the ground!"