Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 70: Missing

Chapter 70: Missing

The walk back from the dungeons was silent. There was nothing to say after they were greeted with such a horrifying sight. If one included the inmates, there were a total of at least twenty over dead bodies lying in the dungeon, courtesy of one man alone, Eugene Attonson.

Daphne could not comprehend it. How could a man like Eugene, who treated her so kindly, be such a ruthless killer? If he had been capable of such feats, why wasn’t he able to save her from the kidnappers? Did he purposely let himself get hit so that she would be captured?

And if he wasn’t responsible for the murders, that would mean that someone else took him. Daphne hoped he was taken prisoner, just so she didn’t have to think the worst of him.

But deep down, a quiet voice in her mind knew the truth. Her gut churned with nausea, and Daphne rubbed her temples.

All these thoughts were making her head throb with pain, and she desperately needed answers.

"We’re here," Atticus said, halting his footsteps. Daphne, who was still lost in her thoughts, bumped straight into him and stumbled, nearly falling if not for Atticus’s quick reflexes.

"My apologies, thank you," she said faintly, realizing that Atticus had taken the time to walk her back to her room. She had simply followed unknowingly, and she realized there were only two of them in the corridor.

"Where did Jonah and Sirona go?" Daphne looked around, as though expecting them to appear from the corner.

"They went back to check on the bodies for clues," Atticus said.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Daphne asked hopefully.

"There’s nothing you can do for now. Your job is to simply rest and recover." Atticus’s sharp eyes roamed all over her, cataloging her exhaustion. "You look dead on your feet. Get Maisie to draw you a hot bath or something."

Daphne nodded dumbly. A bath sounded great, Maisie would know how to help... Wait. When was the last time she saw Maisie?

This morning? No, she wasn’t there. Yesterday? The day before?

Her eyes widened with fear.

"Atticus, have you seen Maisie this entire day?" Daphne asked, panicking.

"No, but that’s nothing new. She’s your maid, not mine," Atticus said, frowning. "Why?"

"Oh no, oh no, this is all my fault!" Daphne clutched at her hair, nearly tearing it out as the realization sunk in.

"I don’t understand. Can you explain yourself?"

"I sent Maisie down to look after Eugene a few days ago," Daphne said faintly, her eyes welling with tears. She hadn’t spotted Maisie for the entire day, but she had assumed that Maisie was busy with her other duties. She should have known better. Maisie would never have gone without telling Daphne where she was in case Daphne needed her.

And now she needed Daphne, but Daphne was so foolish and wrapped up in her own problems she didn’t even realize she was missing!

Guilt threatened to swallow her whole.

What if Maisie was captured, or worse?

"Maisie is missing! What if he did something to her? This is all my fault... Maisie could be dead..." Daphne’s breaths grew shallower as fear crept into her heart. Maisie was a sweet gullible girl. If Eugene Attonson was as terrible a man that Atticus claimed he was...

Daphne had effectively sent a baby chick into the fox’s den. A sob escaped her throat as she began to wail. Why was she so stupid!

"Don’t worry, we’ll find her," Atticus promised, prying her hands away from her hair. "We didn’t see her body in the dungeons, so she’s definitely still alive."

Daphne sniffled. Atticus had a point, but for young girls like Maisie with no power, there were fates worse than death.

"What’s important now is for you to get a good night’s rest," Atticus continued firmly. "I’ll get Sirona to brew you a draught if necessary. You need to keep your strength up. When we find him, I’ll even let you blast his face off first before I kill him."

Strangely enough, Atticus’s words comforted her. He said ’when’ and not ’if’. And he was even letting her get the first hit in. He thought highly enough of her to assume she could injure him.

"Do you really think we will find him?" Daphne asked weakly."He could be anywhere by now."

"He’ll be back. For people like him, they will not be able to resist the allure of power. And no one is more powerful than I," Atticus declared. There was a sharp glint in his eyes, his voice exuding the same confidence that matched the intensity of his words.

Daphne swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

She watched his every movement, stunned speechless. It was as simple as a shake of his head, or when he pouted a bit to puff a bit of air so that his fringe was no longer in his eyes. But the way Atticus carried himself was mesmerizing. Infuriating, yes, but Daphne could not deny it.

He did indeed have the power and right to say what he said. If Atticus called himself second, no one would dare call themself the first.

This was the man that called himself her husband. Suddenly Daphne felt very unworthy in his presence, as though she was a mere ant in the face of a lion.

How had anger blinded her from her fear? Instead of the kidnappers, instead of the assassins sent after her life, this should be the man she was most scared of. Yet, she was carefree and careless enough around him to even dare throw her tantrum.

And he let her! Truly, she was alive by the grace of Atticus’s mercy, and not by any of her own merits.

"Before I forget, I have something of yours." Atticus reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny ring box. A quick click, and the box opened to reveal―

"My earrings!" Daphne exclaimed. She had forgotten she wasn’t wearing them before. Atticus must have instructed Sirona to remove them from her ears when she was recovering from the kidnapping attempt, in case she accidentally caused an explosion in her sleep.

"Wear them tomorrow morning," Atticus instructed.

"Why? What’s happening tomorrow?"

A wolfish grin appeared on Atticus’s face, and his eyes lit up with manic glee. The sight sent goosebumps rising on her arms, but his grin was magnetic.

"Sunshine, we’re going to train your magic so that the next time you see Eugene Attonson, he’d be begging on his knees for your forgiveness."