Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 92: Tango

Chapter 92: Tango

"Maisie!" Daphne yelled in horror as she watched Maisie collapse to her side. Blood began to pool through her clothes, mixing in with the wine that was already on the floor.

Bram laughed, a wild, crazed look in his eyes as he watched the flames dance across the room. Every second that passed was another second in which the fire grew in intensity. It seemed correlated to Daphne’s emotions and seeing Maisie injured ― and possibly dead ― had allowed her flames to grow as if a doorway to hell had been split right open in this very basement.

Yet, this wasn’t even nearly as extreme as what he had witnessed that night.

That fire had been so vivid and powerful that it was a terror of the night. Even now, Bram could imagine the heat that it had caused― a flame that could burn down winter and bring summer to Vramid early.

If there ever was a feat of magic, this was it. Bram finally understood, upon seeing Daphne go out of control, why his client had been so obsessed with a princess that was rumored to be useless. It was entirely their fault that they had been so careless with her. That carelessness was what resulted in Broc and Clive’s deaths.

The queen of Vramid was the epitome of chaos.

"Now, that’s it!" Bram’s laughter was maniacal. "Isn’t it wondrous to burn?"

He clapped in joy, akin to a child that had been thrust into a candy store with no limits on what they could purchase and sample. His pupils dilated, dancing with an unhinged fervor, while a sinister grin stretched across his face, revealing a glimpse into the darkness that consumed his mind.

The intensity of his gaze held an unsettling mix of delight and cruelty, almost as if he reveled in the discord and suffering that was inflicted upon Daphne and Maisie. In his eyes, Daphne found sociopathic joy gleaming in his eyes, resembling shards of broken glass that reflected his equally broken mind.

Daphne raised her wine-soaked hand instinctively, causing the pool of fiery wine on the floor to fly with her movements. They gathered and coated Bram, soaking him from head to toe as his clothes and body began to burn. Even though he was fighting off the pain, the crooked smile never left his face.

She hadn’t the time to play in his twisted games. As Bram tumbled to one side, attempting to quell the fire that threatened to consume him alive, Daphne reached for Maisie. She held onto the girl, tears pooling in her eyes.

"Maisie?"

Carefully, Daphne shifted Maisie to look at her injury. The wound to her side could barely be seen since the rest of her clothes were soaked red as well. It was only when Maisie hissed in pain did Daphne know that she had found the spot Bram had pierced through.

"Your Highness," Maisie replied weakly. She winced, her breathing haggard. "Run, Your Highness. Don’t worry about me."

"I am not leaving without you!"

Outside, the sun had set and a veil of darkness descended upon the land. Shadows grew longer, stretching like inky fingers along the cobblestone paths, while the fading light painted the sky in hues of deep blue and dusky purple. Gas lamps flickered to life one by one, casting a dim, amber glow, providing mere glimpses into the nocturnal world.

The light in the room came only from the fire that Daphne had created. As Bram soon extinguished the flames, they were plunged back into darkness. Even the light from the gas lamps outside couldn’t shine in well enough through that one small window.

Using the darkness as an aid, Daphne quickly and carefully moved herself and Maisie into a corner of the room. Bram had been so preoccupied with his situation that he hadn’t even noticed they were no longer where he had left them and Daphne used that to her advantage.

She gestured for Maisie to stay put, to which the latter merely nodded. Maisie’s head was already feeling light. Even the fierce pain that had rushed through her abdomen could barely be felt anymore, with the world quickly growing numb.

Even so, she offered her queen a smile, only hoping that she could see it despite the darkness.

"Aren’t you going to play with fire, my sweet?" Bram mused, slowly standing back to his feet.

With his towering height, Daphne caught a stroke of light on his face. The fire had fed off the alcohol instead of burning his skin directly, leaving him with little to no additional injuries. However, his one eye was squeezed shut― liquid had most likely entered his eye.

Daphne wasn’t sure why Bram was so eager to have her use her magic. What well would it serve him if she was proficient at it? He would only be defeated much quicker. However, she wasn’t going to try. Especially not when she couldn’t control it well yet, lest she accidentally burned Maisie into ashes along with Bram and everyone within a mile radius.

Instead, Daphne chose to use a steel rod that had been lying in a corner of the room. She equipped it, holding it high and ready to strike.

Without warning, she quickly pounced forward, slamming the steel rod down. Unfortunately, Bram was much more agile than she thought he would be. He easily avoided her attack, his smile widening significantly when he realized she had come out of the dark to play. As if they were dancing, they moved back and forth― for every push she served, he pulled away.

Their little game brought Bram much delight, chuckling every time Daphne’s makeshift weapon hit nothing but thin air.

"You’re not made for the battlefield, sweet pea," Bram said. When Daphne struck down again, instead of dodging, Bram grabbed the steel rod this time. He held it in the air mid-strike, meeting Daphne’s horrified gaze. "You’re better off sitting pretty in a cage for your owner to stare at. Pretty girls aren’t meant to be anything more than an accessory."

Daphne said nothing at first. She spat right in his face, causing Bram to recoil in disgust.

"Not this one," she said through gritted teeth.

Using his spare hand, Bram wiped her spit off his face, his smile along with it. That murderous look he previously wore returned to his eyes.

"Maybe you just need a little bit of persuasion." He glowered.

With one swift tug, Bram yanked the steel rod out of Daphne’s grip. In the same movement, he kicked her down, using his foot to hold her in place, stepping square on her abdomen so she couldn’t move.

Terror gripped Daphne like a vice. She could only watch as Bram lifted the rod into the air, the steel catching a ray of light, glinting menacingly. Her breath clogged in her throat, unable to think straight.