Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 93: Dragoness

Chapter 93: Dragoness

Daphne felt like she was on death’s door, with her breath coming out in short sharp pants due to the smoke caused by the fire, her head reeling with pain. Her hands were on the floor, wet and sticky with blood and alcohol.

’What a way to die,’ Daphne thought hysterically to herself.

Her mind suddenly conjured up old memories, from the first time she saw her brother perform magic, the first time when she had failed her magic test, to the dismissive gazes of everyone in her family when years passed and she had nothing. The whispers of ’useless princess’ that were initially silenced when she walked into a room eventually transformed into statements said straight to her face without any hesitation.

There was no seat at the table reserved for her, and no one bothered to call her by name. Her title was merely a formality that held no weight.

She lived a life of luxury but it was as hollow as a bird’s bones, a perfect gilded cage.

What a wretched, miserable existence. Her hands instinctively curled into fists as the sheer unfairness of her circumstances hit her.

Useless princess.

But she had powers. So why hadn’t they showed up before?

Why hadn’t her parents tried harder to help her? Why did she get kidnapped when she tried to do one good thing for her kingdom? Why did Atticus treat her like she was a priceless treasure and then discard her?

Why? Why? Why?

There were so many things she wanted to do, so many places she wanted to go.

How could this be taken from her?

Her palms started glowing hotter than she had ever felt. Every breath seemed to scorch her throat.

’This must be how it feels to burn.’ Daphne thought dimly. ’How painful.’

"Say hello to my brother for me," Bram’s eyes radiated sheer hatred, and Daphne opened her eyes weakly.

She wasn’t going to die flinching like a coward.

Bram slammed the rod straight down at her face, and Daphne screamed, in fear, in indignation, in outrage.

She wanted to live.

Flames erupted once again, but this time, from her mouth.

Bram leapt back in surprise but he wasn’t fast enough. The steel rod turned a bright golden red and he hissed at the pain. Daphne could hear the sizzle of his palms as the steel rod burnt his skin.

"You bitch! Just fucking die!" Bram swung the burning rod at her, determined to burn off her face. Daphne caught the rod with her hands and roared another burst of flame straight into his eyes. He howled.

Daphne suddenly saw a bright light envelop the room. Clearly, her time in the mortal world was up. She tried so hard and got so far, but in the end, it didn’t even matter.

In the midst of all the chaos, the door to the basement burst open.

"Daphne!" Atticus screamed in horror as he saw her crumpled form on the floor.

Bram’s face was charred, but there was still enough recognition in his eyes when he saw the goddamn fucking king of Vramid storm through the door to cradle his wife in his arms.

That was the last thing he saw before iron stakes pierced through his gut and heart, turning him into a pincushion.

"Daphne! Can you hear me?" Atticus screamed, but he sounded very far away to Daphne’s ears. There was no mistaking the tortured look in his eyes though, as he looked at her.

"Sorry," Daphne mouthed weakly, trying to speak but only ashes emerged from her mouth.

Atticus had a look of horror on his face. She would have found it funny if it wasn’t so sad. Finally, she had seen him afraid. She wanted to reach out a shaky hand to touch his face, but even that seemed to take an insurmountable amount of strength.

"Help Maisie, please." Daphne mouthed. "Thank you for your love. Goodbye."

And then she knew nothing more.

***

Atticus had waited anxiously, watching the skies for the barest hint of the signal flare. The first one had gone off in an alley in the morning but when they got there, all that was left were some fragments of the clear quartz Atticus had given to Daphne, nothing more.

When the hours passed and Daphne did not appear, he knew that something must have happened. He wanted to tear through the town, but Jonah had talked him down from such recklessness.

Now, as he looked down at Daphne’s hurt, beaten body lying on the bed at the inn, he wished he had insisted on it. In fact, he should have insisted on following her personally! Why had he let her wander around on her own for the sake of her maid?

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Maisie was in much better shape than her mistress. She was traumatized, but the wounds on her would heal naturally as they had missed all the vital organs. She had spent the time looking after Daphne devotedly, but Atticus could not bear to look at her and sent her to the guards. The very sight of her made him angry.

Who was she that Daphne would risk her life in exchange?

Looking at their wounds, it was obvious that Daphne had shielded Maisie from the worst. Daphne’s wounds were so severe that it was beyond the physician the small town had.

"I’ve sent a message to Sirona," Jonah whispered as he entered the room and closed the door.

Guards were posted along the corridor, just in case another murder attempt was made on the queen. They found the guard posted with her― his head, at the very least. His men were scouring for the rest of the body.

"She says she’ll make her way here in two days."

"Two days?" Atticus hissed angrily. "Daphne might not have that long!"

"She’ll live, Atticus. She’ll live," Jonah said, clasping his arm tightly, a fervent hope in his eyes. "Daphne is very stubborn. Go talk to her more. She’ll wake up, if only to argue with you."

"What if she doesn’t wake?" Atticus choked out the thought that was plaguing him the whole time, weighing him down like a stone. He crumpled to the floor, his head in his hands. Thankfully, no one else saw him like this. "What if I’m made a widower?"

Jonah had no answer to that, but he hugged Atticus tightly. Atticus could only cling to him helplessly like they were children again.

"She’ll live," Jonah repeated firmly. "You have to believe it. I’ll handle things outside and let you know. You just focus on thinking about what you want to say to her."

With that parting statement, Jonah exited the room, leaving Atticus with only his thoughts and his own paralyzing guilt.