Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 132: The Griffin’s Nest IV

Chapter 132: The Griffin’s Nest IV

"You don’t think so?" Atticus repeated mockingly, as though he couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. "Prince Alistair, don’t be ridiculous, since when do you even think?"

Prince Alistair’s face purpled, and his eyes blazed with rage. "How dare you insult me?"

"Are those ears attached to your head merely just a decoration?" Atticus retorted. "Or perhaps you’ve lost whatever little sense you had fighting the griffin earlier. Open those eyes of yours. I slayed this griffin. It’s my kill." Atticus said the last few words slowly, pointing to himself as though he was talking to a particularly dim-witted child.

"Your kill is... " Atticus made a show of looking around before a pitiful look crossed his face. "Nowhere to be found."

True enough, there was no second carcass lying around. Chances are the griffin had fled from the nest entirely by accident, thanks to its broken wing. Atticus mentally wished the best of luck to whoever was unfortunate enough to stumble upon a crazed injured griffin.

Alistair gritted his teeth. He refused to return empty-handed. After enduring so much hardship and injury, and wasting a ton of his arrows on hunting this beast, he needed to have it to ensure his victory over Atticus.

"That griffin is also my kill," Alistair insisted. "If I had not distracted the first, would you have been able to kill the second?"

"You didn’t even remember a second griffin existed," Daphne pointed out, glaring at her older brother. To think he had the nerve to fight with Atticus over what was rightfully his! "Not only are your hunting skills lacking, you are ungracious and lacking gentlemanly conduct. To think you would steal from Atticus!"

"Shut up, you useless quim." Alistair’s eyes were filled with hatred as he glared back at Daphne, but Daphne remained unmoved. She wasn’t going to be scared of such a man any longer, even if he used foul language.

"Don’t think just because you have Atticus’s backing you’re worth something! Deep down, you’re still the useless, pathetic excuse of a―"

Alistair didn’t manage to finish his sentence, for within a blink of an eye, Atticus had drawn his sword and wasted no time resting the sharp edge against Alistair’s neck, his eyes full of unadulterated loathing for his brother-in-law.

"Continue your sentence, I dare you," Atticus growled quietly as he flexed his fingers. The blade dug deeper into the soft unprotected skin, as gentle as a lover’s kiss, but Daphne could see the thin trail of red forming at the edges.

Drusilla gasped, torn between worry for her brother and immense jealousy.

Why did Daphne, out of all people, have someone that defended her honor so protectively?

"Why are you so silent?" Atticus goaded, a nasty smirk on his face as he watched Alistair swallow his saliva. "Weren’t you so loud when you were insulting my wife?"

"Unhand me this instance. I am the future King of Reaweth. Lay one hand on me and you’ll regret it!" Alistair hissed out, but Daphne could see his eyes darting warily to the blade at his neck, then at his own blade at his side, mentally calculating if he could get away before Atticus cut him down like a rice stalk that had grown too tall.

"What I regret is not leaving the both of you to die," Atticus said heartlessly. "Without me, your precious little sister would be nothing better than a carcass strewn all over the grounds. You’ll have to scour the nest for bits and pieces of her body. There wouldn’t be enough of her to even send back to Reaweth."

Atticus finished viciously, delighting in Drusilla’s pale, shaking figure. He had spent so much effort slaying the griffin to save this ungrateful woman, and her foolish brother still wanted to fight for spoils? He’d might as well slay both of them here and claim the griffin did it.

"...Brother..." Drusilla’s weak voice interrupted the standoff between the two men. Alistair reluctantly took his eyes off Atticus.

"What is it?"

Drusilla’s eyes were wet with tears. "Please don’t fight over this griffin! King Atticus is right. If not for him, Brother, I would be dead! For my sake, please!"

Atticus and Daphne both looked at each other in surprise. Would wonders never cease?

"Drusilla, what are you talking about? Don’t you believe we deserve the griffin?" Alistair demanded, agitated at her behavior. Drusilla clutched at his sleeve, looking up at him beseechingly, willing her brother to understand her hidden message.

"Brother, just let this go. I believe we can win. In the end, I believe we’ll still prevail over them." She emphasized the last few words, reminding Alistair of the idea he had thought of earlier.

He took a deep breath and pasted a look of grim reluctance on his face before finally stepping away from Atticus’s blade.

"Fine. For the sake of my sister, I shall let this go, just this once," Alistair declared. "But don’t think this is over. I swear on my ancestors, I’ll get you for this!"

"For saving your sister’s life?" Atticus asked, dumbfounded at the sudden change in behavior. He narrowed his eyes at the pair, watching their movements carefully. There was definitely something that he was missing, but he couldn’t figure out what.

"Atticus, let’s just go and get the griffin," Daphne said worriedly. She was also suspicious of their sudden change. From personal experience, her siblings were stubborn as bulls when it came to getting what they wanted.

"Sunshine, you go on first. I’ll watch these two leave," Atticus said, with a minute tilt of his head. He didn’t trust these two to strike when their backs were turned. "Walk all the way to the furthest wall, and keep your hands where I can see them, or I’ll shoot. Unlike you, I don’t miss."

A muscle twitched in Alistair’s jaw as Atticus reminded him of his earlier failure, but he gave a begrudging nod. He’ll let Atticus enjoy the spoils for now. When he returned from the maze, high off his victory, Alistair would take great joy in kicking him down the tower he had built for himself.

They walked slowly away, and Atticus kept his eyes on them the whole time. Meanwhile, Daphne had stored the griffin carcass inside her bag, wincing at the state of it. She heard a series of tiny anxious chirps and looked down to see a baby griffin, desperately calling for help while flapping its tiny wings. It was too small to fly anywhere, and it could only hop around hopelessly.

Daphne felt her heart ache. The griffin chick didn’t understand why its parents were gone, mercilessly slayed by people for sport. She reached out a hand to touch it but stopped short when it backed away in fear.

It would be cruel to just leave the animal here, especially for a baby to be killed for mere sport. Such a waste too, since griffins were so sought after. Who knows when they might run into one again.

"It’s alright," she cooed, trying to pacify it but the baby griffin merely jumped further away. It didn’t completely run; it stopped every couple of steps to turn back and watch Daphne. Yet, it made itself very clear that it wasn’t following Daphne anywhere.

She sighed and considered backing down and leaving, but then she heard a familiar, ominous groan that reverberated through the arena.

The maze was shifting again!