Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 522: Guilt Prevents Happy Endings

Chapter 522: Guilt Prevents Happy Endings

Sirona won five hundred gold pieces in the end. It wasn’t a huge fortune, of course, but it certainly paid handsomely. With this money, she could invest in all sorts of medical books and equipment, enough to fuel her experiments for at least the next few months. Prince Nathaniel would be pleased to hear that their newest project would have additional funding.

Of course, Sirona didn’t get to keep all five hundred in the end.

"Here’s your share, as promised," Sirona said, placing a small bag of gold coins in Daphne’s outstretched hands. With the way Daphne’s eyes glimmered, one would think that she was a common peasant girl, not the queen of a prosperous kingdom.

"This feels a lot heavier than I imagined," Daphne confessed, lifting her hands up and down as she tested the weight of the bag.

"I doubled it," Sirona said. "There were a couple of last-minute bets thrown in, and because of your amazing assistance, they lost their money."

Daphne frowned. "Now you’ve got me feeling a little guilty," she said. "This money comes from all the hard-earned wages of the people."

"Some, yes," Sirona said with a shrug. "But most of them came from the nobles in the underground betting ring who don’t know our king quite as well as they think they do. Most of the servants have actually made quite a profit, thanks to you."

Steal from the rich, give to the poor. Perhaps that should be Daphne’s new motto. Hearing this, she felt a lot more at ease with the money she had received.

"In that case," Daphne said with a grin, "don’t mind if I do!"

She stuffed the pouch into her pocket, humming a merry tune under her breath as she did.

Sirona carefully watched her queen, her lips pursed tightly. After the months spent back here in Vramid, Daphne had opened up a lot more. She regained much of her old radiance, and the gloomy cloud that once hung above her head had mainly dissipated. It was a shame how Jonah didn’t get the chance to see this with his own eyes, given how they were friends before the incident.

"Is there something on my face?" Daphne asked, raising her hand to dab her cheek. Her fingers came back clean.

"It’s nothing," Sirona said. "I was just thinking."

"Thinking?" Daphne echoed. "About?"

The healer pursed her lips. She didn’t know whether she should voice her thoughts. After all, the wound had already scabbed and was en route to healing well. It would no doubt leave a scar, but if Sirona prodded at it again, she was worried it would bleed once more.

However, she also knew how much it worried her king.

"How are things between you and Atticus?" Sirona asked, her tongue darting out to lick her dry lips. The moment those words left her lips, Daphne’s smile dimmed.

"Fine," she said. "It’s really just the same as ever. It’s not bad."

"But not the same as before, is it?"

Daphne simply pursed her lips, refusing to reply.

Sirona sighed. She understood that her queen refused to broach the topic, but it was always the heaviest conversations that were most important. While Sirona was a doctor of the physical human body and not the state of mind, she still knew enough to know that keeping these feelings in would only strain and fray whatever was left of their relationship in the long run.

If anything, Sirona had a theory on why Daphne and Atticus’s relationship wasn’t getting any better or worse.

"Forgive me for being frank, my queen, but allowing guilt to control you will not lead to any happy endings," Sirona said.

"G-Guilt?" Daphne repeated, her eyes widening. "I don’t―" She paused in the middle of her sentence, realization dawning upon her face.

Truthfully, Sirona had only made an educated guess. She hadn’t thought that she would hit the nail right on the head, but now that she did, she felt the innate urge to pat herself on the back. The months cooped up in the laboratory had not dulled her senses when it came to human interactions, thankfully.

"Perhaps it’s time to talk it out with your husband," Sirona advised.

"We have," Daphne immediately said, feeling the need to defend herself. "Multiple times, in fact!"

"Somehow I don’t think the topic was ever concluded," Sirona replied, wrinkling her nose.

Immediately, Daphne’s cheeks flushed red. Sirona thought she even heard a mini bell ringing above her head, signaling that she had gotten it right once more.

Daphne, on the other hand, could only recall the day she had planted the seed of doubt in Atticus’s head regarding Jonah’s letters. That was the last time they came anywhere close to the safe little boundary they had both wordlessly set for themselves― or at least, Daphne had set for them both.

Guilt, huh?

She hadn’t thought of it that way, but now that Sirona had pointed it out, it appeared to be so. There were so many things that Daphne felt guilty for― her lack of understanding of Atticus’s choice to remove magic from the world, her failure to protect Nereus and Zephyr from unnecessary hurt, and her failure to keep her child safe.

How could she be a good queen — something she had strived so hard to become in the last few months — when she couldn’t even be a good friend or wife?

Then, she had also felt guilt over feeling upset about Atticus’s betrayal. Atticus had taken her negative emotions in his stride, which made her feel even more guilty. It was like a never-ending spiral.

"I don’t remember if this was ever addressed," Sirona said, "but on behalf of Jonah and myself, I do apologize for everything we’ve kept from you. It was... easier that way. Perhaps some might deem it the coward’s way out."

"But it was also a form of loyalty," Daphne replied with a sad smile. "We were friends, but above all, Atticus is your king. You two were bound by duty. I get that now."

Daphne understood it, but still, it had hurt a fair bit.

"’Were’?" Sirona echoed.

"’Are’," Daphne corrected. "Even now."

Strangely, that warmed Sirona’s cold, unfeeling heart just a little. She showed a tired smile.

"Talk to the king, Your Highness," Sirona said. She stood to her feet, stretching left and right as light pops resounded across the room. Her back felt crunchier than boots smashing across ice, a sign that it was time for Sirona to stretch and take a break from work. "Don’t keep him waiting for too long."

Daphne nodded. "I will."