Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 54: Revelation

Chapter 54: Revelation

Atticus and Sirona exchanged a wary glance. Clearly, Daphne’s mind had suppressed her memories of her kidnapping to make it easier for her to cope, and if they told her what really happened to her, she might pass out from shock.

Yet she had to be told. They couldn’t let her live with her ignorance, but they couldn’t tell her flat out that she had burnt men to a crisp. Sirona frowned, thinking of a kinder way to break the news, only for Atticus to cut in.

"Sunshine, do you want the good news or bad news first?"

"What?" Daphne blinked in confusion. "What news?"

"I have some good news for you." Atticus smiled. "You’re no longer the only Reaweth royalty that doesn’t have magic!"

Sirona put down her bowl and walked towards Atticus, smacking him lightly on the head.

"You fool!" Sirona hissed. "This isn’t a joking matter."

Daphne’s mouth fell open in surprise, but then a hurt look crossed her face.

"You’re still lying to me?" Daphne asked, frowning. "This isn’t funny."

"I’m not!" Atticus protested. "Sirona, tell her!"

Daphne squinted suspiciously at Sirona, remembering the time when Sirona also lied to her about Atticus’s sickness. Not even a week had passed since that incident but it felt like a lifetime.

"Your Highness, you’ve been unconscious for two days," Sirona began. Daphne choked in surprise.

Two whole days? That would at least explain why her throat felt like she had just swallowed a mouthful of sand and why her belly was grumbling like a bear.

"You suffered severe strangulation bruises on your neck and your lungs were full of smoke," the healer continued. "Frankly, you were very fortunate to be alive when the king found you."

"Can I have a mirror?" Daphne asked weakly as she sat up. Sirona handed her one of her own tiny compacted mirrors, which Daphne received gratefully. The image that greeted her back caused her to pause in shock.

It was one thing to hear Sirona repeat her injuries, it was another thing to see it in person. Daphne gingerly reached for her neck and winced when she felt her fingertips touch her abused skin.

The marks of strangulation had manifested as a dark, discolored mark encircling the neck, serving as a haunting reminder of the violent and traumatic pressure inflicted upon the delicate skin and underlying tissues. She could clearly see the imprint of what looked to be from fingers, quickly connecting the dots on who it must’ve been that had done this.

The gruesome sight triggered her memory. Suddenly, she was back in the cabin, hidden in the corner, trying not to make a sound.

She recalled there was a man with haunting eyes that had been speaking to a mystery employer and another that had a scar over his eye. They were trying to ransom her to someone, but she couldn’t remember how they addressed that person.

She remembered how said man tore her dress, wanting to ruin her because she had the nerve to fight back. Goosebumps appeared on her skin. She instinctively huddled down to protect herself, her breath coming out in shudders. Her fingernails dug into the soft skin of her upper arms, causing pinpricks of pain.

"Daphne!" Atticus exclaimed as he saw her eyes glaze over. He immediately reached out for her, slowly but gently prying her hands away from her arms.

Daphne was startled; she had forgotten that she wasn’t alone. Her face flushed in embarrassment as she realized that Atticus was looking at her with so much concern, enveloping her cold clammy hands with his own warmer ones.

"You’re safe now. No one will harm you. I vow this with every fiber of my being: the people responsible for your hardship will die excruciatingly painful deaths." Atticus continued to say, rubbing her hands. In comparison to his deadly words, his hands were nothing but gentle as they massaged the tension away from her.

Daphne could only nod mutely. The memory wasn’t pretty and neither was the physical reminder of it that had been left on her body, but it was easier to feel safe in Atticus’s presence.

"Sorry to interrupt this tender moment, but I have to ask. What do you remember?" Sirona prompted.

"Sirona!" Atticus scolded disapprovingly. "She’s still in shock!"

"I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’m fine," Daphne said, squeezing Atticus’s hands. She gave him a small, weak smile, but her voice was firm. "I need to let you know in case I forget."

"Alright. But you can stop whenever you feel uncomfortable," Atticus said, offering her his hand to hold. Sirona felt like a proud mother; Atticus had come so far from his old emotionally-constipated self.

"I remember their names," Daphne continued. Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip which was so dry that the skin had started to flake. "Clive. He was the one in charge of my kidnapping. That man... he had been speaking to someone over a piece of sodalite. They wanted to ransom me off."

Atticus’s ears perked a little. He had received the stone from Jonah after the search that night and had ordered the latter to look into the matter. Yet, it was still a dead end so far. They couldn’t track the owner, and when they tried to reactivate the sodalite, there was no one on the other end.

"Ransom? Who would dare?" Atticus seethed.

Daphne tried to remember, but there was a blank in her memory. No matter how hard she tried, she only succeeded in giving herself a headache.

"I don’t remember, I’m sorry," Daphne said, her face falling.

"It’s fine, you can just tell us what you know."

"There was also another man. His name was Broc, I think." Daphne frowned. "He has a twin brother."

Atticus and Sirona immediately exchanged glances. Unknowingly, Atticus’s other hand had tightened into a fist.

"I think his name is Bram. That’s what his brother called him."

"Do you remember what he looks like?" Atticus pressed.

"He had a scar here." Daphne gestured to her lips, outlining where Bram’s face had been seemingly split into two. "He looks pretty young. Maybe in his late twenties? The brothers have orange hair if I remember correctly."

"Do you remember anything else they said?"

Daphne swallowed and shook her head. It wasn’t what they said, but more what they tried to do that scared her. She focused on the warmth of Atticus’s hand instead.

"Clive and Broc were with me in the shed before I blacked out," she said. "Did you save me from them?"

"I would love to take credit for that, but you saved yourself, sunshine. I only arrived after the dust had settled."

"Then..." She took a shaky breath. "What did I do?"

Atticus pursed his lips.

"Well," he said, "the bad news is that you, like the rest of the Reawethen royals, are adept at pyromancy."

Daphne pulled her hand away from Atticus, frowning. "That’s nonsense. If you want to cheer me up, you’re better off getting me a puppy."

"I wouldn’t lie about this," Atticus said, even as he made a mental note for the future. "Sirona, convince her for me."

"That’s true. This king of mine is a filthy liar, but he wouldn’t be able to come up with a lie as outrageous as this."

"Hey!"

A giggle escaped Daphne’s lips and some of the tension left her shoulders. Then, she truly registered the meaning of their words and paused.

"So I really do have powers? How is that bad news?"

The other two people in the room exchanged glances, both unwilling to play the villain and break the news. In the end, it was still Atticus that spoke first. Sirona returned to tending to her herbs and tonics, pretending to keep herself busy.

"You are too adept at it." Atticus explained, "The display of raw power greatly overshadows most if not all of your entire family. It’s also highly destructive."

Daphne’s frown deepened. She seemed deep in thought, the skin between her eyebrows creased as she hunched a little, silent.

Then, she spoke. "What did I do?" When Atticus didn’t provide an answer, Daphne raised her gaze and her voice. "Damn it, Atticus, what did I do?!"

"You completely obliterated the property." It was Sirona that replied. Yet, she didn’t look away from her pot for even a second. "Those two men, Clive and Broc, we found them."

Maybe it was the way that Sirona had said it but there was an odd feeling in Daphne’s chest. It felt like a huge rock had been lodged there in her lungs, causing her to not be able to breathe properly.

Their names. She had just said those two words herself, yet when she heard Sirona say it again, it felt like a jolt ran through her body in the worst way possible. The hair on her body stood to their ends, her blood chilling as perspiration started to pool on her palms and the soles of her feet. They were cold to the touch.

She rubbed her palms together, giving her best attempt to gather warmth. It didn’t work too well.

"Um, where are they, then?" Daphne asked, her voice slightly quaking. "In the dungeons?"

"No," said Sirona.

Daphne’s heart stopped. It felt as though she had been plunged into cold water, left in the freezing deep ends of the world. Unknowingly, her tremors started to get worse. She hadn’t even noticed it until a warm hand finally enveloped hers, keeping her from shaking too badly. Looking up, she met Atticus’s eyes, kind and patient.

He didn’t say a word, though, and Daphne appreciated that.

Sirona was the one that spoke up, knowing fully well that Atticus wasn’t going to be the one to break the news.

"They’re dead, Your Highness. Burned down to nothing but bone."